#no white woman accidentally marrying a native man for laughs

[nodudeshutup]

why the hell is the 'oops i accidentally married a native women' trope in so much cowboy media? was that a thing that ever actually happened? is it just a common bit of comedy? help, i have read countless articles on this subject and am still not closer to an answer.

[mostly-mundane-atla]

I enjoy learning from your blog sm—ty for all you share. Especially since I’ve found there’s very few sources. Sry if you’ve talked about this before, but if you’re still open to answering questions I was wondering what the culture surrounding lgbt+ identities? You talked a bit about gender roles and co-husbands, but is homophobia still prevalent? (Would it be less so in-universe versus a modern au?) Also, if you’re willing to share any terminology (whether two-spirit is used?) used?

Alright, here's where things get a little tricky.

It's hard to really talk about queerness in other cultures because the idea that sexuality and attraction is an inherent part of your identity is not in any way universal. This is where you get a lot of people claiming certain historians and anthropologists are homophobic (and that's not to say some of them aren't but people tend to make really harsh assumptions without reading into what's actually being said) for saying that x or y doesn't mean this person was gay as we understand it. In a lot of cultures, the people you persue personal relationships with isn't a part of who you are, just something you do. So a man who prefered the companionship of other men, say in medieval England, would likely still marry a woman and have children to help him with work as he ages and take care of him when he's old. Does that mean he couldn't have a loving relationship with his wife, just because she wasn't a man and he wasn't attracted to her? No. Is it wrong if he wouldn't consider this not being himself, because he grew up in a world where attraction and sexuality is what you do rather than who you are? I can't really answer that.

And so you take this idea that romantic relationships are something you do rather than an ingrained part of your identity, and you add to that this concept practically unheard of nowadays that romance really isn't important. That doesn't mean that people never had romantic feelings or acted on them, just that this idea of courtly love, that being in love makes you a better person and thus is inherently righteous, was never a part of the culture. You got together with someone because you weren't related and they were someone you didn't mind surviving and having kids with, not strictly because you were in love with them. And then, unlike medieval England, sex was not something to be considered shameful or sinful, and definitely didn't have to be exclusive between spouses.

There was a bit off accidental accuracy in Kya saying that sort of thing isn't talked about in the comics. You wouldn't hear stories about a romantic love between two men or two women, but you also wouldn't really hear about romantic love between a woman and a man; not unless that was your parents' or grandparents' experience and they shared that with you. The important loves are considered to be between family members. You'll notice in Inuit stories a lot that if a girl is kidnapped and force into a marriage, it's her brother who rescues her, not her sweetheart.

I'm sure there would be some prejudiced people, because let's face it, you can't please them all. But I think the main reason you wouldn't see many gay couples as we understand them to be would have more to do with needing children without access to artificial insemination, as well as very different and comparatively irreverent attitudes toward sex and romance. (In fact, I'm reminded of a story this elder woman shared when my class went to learn a bit about Native cultures back in elementary school. She and her friend left their village and started living among white people. They were still learning English and these two white men, friends themselves, were friendly with them and helped them out, not just that first day, but over the course of, I wanna say some months? Anyway, one of them proposed to the lady telling us this story and the other to her friend. The men had fallen in love and already considered themselves in romantic relationships with these women. The women got a good laugh out of this because they hadn't realized that being so personal and familiar and generally happy to be around someone could be interpreted as romantic interest. Their response to these guys was basically "sure, why not" because romantic feelings or no, they genuinely enjoyed their company.)

If we wanna talk gender, the cultural understanding there is a little different there too. Sipiniq is Inuktittut for "baby that changed its sex at birth" which, as far as I understand, has been used for both intersex and trans people. I can't find anything on the way they specifically were seen by the community, let alone regional specifics but to speak on gender as a whole the cultures are interesting for a few reasons. Inupiat names and third person pronouns aren't gendered. You are named after a person to carry on their soul, and this person is not guaranteed to be your gender. So if you're afab, no one is calling you "she" as opposed to "he" because that's not how the language works and a few people might actually call you "grandpa" or "uncle" because that's who you were named after and that's whose soul is kept in your body. You might be seen as having the body of a man or woman, and the limitations that come with it, but that which makes you yourself is not a gendered thing. King Islanders even had a Messenger Feast tradition where women would dress as men and men would dress as women. They had masks for it and everything.

Queerness is such a nebulous thing and so often we approach it with such a limited understanding, insisting ours is the only right way to treat it. Sometimes the answer to "well were they gay/trans?" can only be "it's complicated" and we all have to be more okay with that. Not every culture has the same concept of or places the same importance on sexuality, romance, or gender.

[labyrinth-runner]

Kilts and Kisses

Secret Cupid Submission

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, @peacefulwizardfox​. I accidentally posted this early so I’m really hoping I didn’t just ruin the surprise. 

Here’s some cute, fluffy Obi-Wan x Reader action for you.

Summary: Obi-Wan and Reader head to Stewjon to track down the source of missing resources. What they find instead? Feelings.

Warnings: None

Word count: Almost 5000. I’m not apologizing.

“Resources are missing. To Stewjon you will go. Get to the bottom of this, you must,” Master Yoda had said. His voice echoed in your mind as you watched the streaks of stars pass outside the viewport of your room. You had split off from Master Kenobi, noting that he took on a somber attitude since take off. 

However, left to your own thoughts, you found yourself thinking of the Jedi that was sent with you. You’ve always admired Master Kenobi. He was efficient and perhaps the best Jedi that you knew. Yet.... you couldn’t deny that he was also the most handsome Jedi that you knew. That thought had been banished to the back of your mind ever since you two had parted ways to become padawans to your respective Masters. The years apart did nothing to dull your feelings, unfortunately.

A breath passed through your lips as you heard a knock at the door. “Come in.”

Obi-Wan entered and took a seat on the bunk next to you. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

“Will you finally tell me what the plan is?” you asked with a slight smile. “After spending all that time alone, surely you have one by now.”

“Well, Stewjon is a fairly popular destination for people looking for agricultural work,” Obi-Wan noted.

“So we’re farmers,” you nodded. “With zero agricultural experience.”

“I never said it was a good plan,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “Fair enough.”

You felt the ship come out of hyperspace and got up. “Come on, let’s go land this ship.”

The world that you landed on was lush and green. There were sprawling hills and valleys filled with farms and small cottages on the outskirts. There were a few cities speckled here and there, great walls of stone erected to protect them.

“It’s odd to see such a peaceful planet with so many defenses,” you commented as you walked through the city.

“The early people of the planet were feudal clans. Since then, there’s been peace between them,” Obi-Wan explained. “But the Clans are still in charge, and there is still a bit of competitive friction between them.”

“If there’s friction, then how fragile is their peace?” you asked skeptically.

“Not as fragile as you would think. Every year they host games where the Clans compete against each other. It’s a way to get out aggression and foster unity,” he replied.

You nodded, “Well, how exactly are we going to investigate the missing resources?”

“Well, if we can get jobs as-”

“Abhainn!” A woman cried out as she grabbed the arm of the man beside her.

“Edine, what is it?” the man asked as he turned to her.

She pointed at the two of you and you froze.

“Well, this is the fastest I’ve ever been caught on a mission,” you muttered.

“You’ve clearly never been on a mission with me,” Obi-Wan sighed as the couple came over to you.

“I’m tellin’ you, Abhainn, it has to be,” she murmured in awe. “A mother always knows.”

“Lad, what’s your name?” the man asked.

Obi-Wan cast a glance at you. “Why?”

“You just... look like a boy I had to give up a long time ago,” Edine said softly, “We gave him up to be a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in shock. “I-”

“This is Obi-Wan Kenobi,” you said, gracefully stepping forward to take his hand. 

Edine smiled broadly and enveloped Obi-Wan in a strong hug. “A sheòid,” she said happily.

Obi-Wan hugged back, a conflicted look in his eyes.

She pulled back, confusion apparent on her face, “But why are you back? We thought you were to be a Jedi, a sheòid?”

“I was,” Obi-Wan looked at you, catching your eye with a smirk. He held up your hand in his, “But, then I met this one and decided to leave.”

You knew he was just trying to salvage the mission, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest.

Edine’s critical eye turned to you, taking you in to see if you were good enough for my son. “Well, Hen, I hope you’re taking care of him.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you nodded.

“Well, why’d you come back here?” Abhainn asked.

“For work,” Obi-Wan explained.

“I see,” his father nodded. “And where are you staying?”

“Probably in a hotel,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Nonsense, a sheòid!” Edine said. 

“She’s right,” Abhainn said, puffing up slightly, “You are the son of Clan Chief Abhainn of Clan Kenobi. No son of mine will stay in a hotel when he can stay in his ancestral home.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in concession, “Of course. We would be honored.”

“Edine, take them home. Tell the cook to prepare a feast. I’ll be home shortly as soon as I conclude business here in town,” Abhainn said, giving Edine a kiss on the cheek.

Edine beamed at the two of you before leading you back home. She pointed out all the important spots of town, trying to cram in 36 years of history into a 30 minute walk. It was important to her, you could see, that Obi-Wan knew that they never stopped thinking about him.

Soon enough, you found yourselves in an old stone castle. Your face was full of awe and wonderment at the idea that Obi-Wan Kenobi, your Obi-Wan, could have grown up in a place like this. Yet, the look was not matched. As you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, all you saw was embarrassment at being the center of attention and affection. Part of you wanted to laugh. The most dramatic man in the galaxy was embarrassed by his mother. Some things truly were universal. 

“Edine,” he murmured eventually. “We’ve had a long trip. Would you mind if we went to our rooms to rest before the festivities?”

“Of course,” Edine said, but you could see her deflate slightly at the rebuff. She showed you to a large room upstairs, “Here you go.”

“There’s only one bed,” Obi-Wan commented.

“Well, you’re married. I didn’t think it would be a problem,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“It’s not,” you replied. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had such nice lodgings. The ships we’ve been staying on have only offered pods or beds only large enough for one person. It’ll be nice to share a bed again. Thank you, Edine.”

“You’re welcome, Hen,” Edine said before leaving the two of you alone.

Obi-Wan laid on the bed and let out a long sigh. “Well, this is a mess.”

“On the contrary,” you replied, “I think this could work towards our advantage.”

“We’re trying to be stealthy, and yet we’ve attracted so much attention,” he groaned. “How is this ideal?”

“Well, we can get information from your family. Force, you could even use their connections to get you a better job that could garner more information than we could ever gain by working in the fields,” you said, sitting next to him.

“It just... feels wrong,” he murmured, turning to look at you. “We’re taking advantage of a woman’s kindness when I don’t even see her as my mother. The Order was my home. As incredible as Abhainn is, Qui-Gon was the closest thing to a father figure that I had.”

You swallowed, placing a hand on his. “What are the odds of meeting your biological parents, Obi-Wan? Perhaps this was the will of the force.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. Well, you should rest. I’m going to get ready for this feast and call back to Coruscant to let them know the latest developments.”

“Alright,” you replied, brow furrowing in concern. You crawled into bed to take a nap to counteract the lag you were experiencing from traveling.

When you woke hours later, you spotted a handsome auburn haired man in a kilt and a flowing white shirt. It took you a moment to realize it was Master Kenobi.

“Did you transform into a highlander while I was asleep?” you teased as you sat up.

“When on a planet, make like the natives,” he shrugged. “Here’s an outfit for you, too.”

You eyed the tartan garments wearily. It had been a while since you wore anything other than your robes, but you knew that Obi-Wan was right. If you were to succeed at this mission, you would have to blend in to the best of your ability. People were more likely to trust those who seemed like them. Turning your back to him, you undressed and changed into the clothes left for you. 

“Well, how do I look?” you asked, raising a brow at him.

“I...” he trailed off as a blush tinged his cheeks, momentarily speechless. He quickly cleared his throat and recovered, “Like a true clanswoman. Now, let’s head to this feast.”

He offered you his arm and you hooked into his, walking with him down the stairs to find a party already roaring in the hall. 

Everywhere you went, people clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder and welcomed him home. He gave them awkward nods and smiles, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention and affection. You couldn’t blame him. Everyone in the temple was quite withdrawn. You were lucky to have a slightly affectionate Master as a padawan, so you didn’t wither under the critical gaze of his family. Quite the opposite, really. You were thriving. You commanded the room with a sense of belonging. No one batted an eye at you as you made your rounds, learning names and stories to see who was best to help you and Obi-Wan in your mission.

Eventually, you found yourself talking to a cousin of Obi-Wan’s, Hamish.

“Someone as well-traveled as he is shouldn’t be working in the fields,” Hamish commented.

“I agree,” you smirked. “You haven’t seen him with my garden. He’s sent more of my plants to the force than I would have liked.”

“He should work with me,” Hamish nodded. 

“And where do you work?” you asked curiously.

“I work with the planetary government,” Hamish said proudly.

“I thought Stewjon was run by the clans.”

“Oh, it is, lass, but that doesn’t mean that there is no need for a governmental body. It’s part of how we keep the clans in check and keep trade open. Lately, a few of the clans have been underperforming in their exports. We’ve had to resort to opening up a dialogue with our neighbors. However, not all of them speak Basic,” Hamish said, leaning in. “We’re in need of a translator.”

You caught Obi-Wan’s eye from across the room and smiled, feeling your face heat up slightly. “I think he’d be perfect for that.”

“Great, I’ll bring him with me in the morning,” Hamish grinned. “He’s lucky to have a strong lass like you behind him.”

You chuckled, thinking of all the times you’d supported each other over the years. “Trust me, Hamish. I’m the lucky one.”

With a knowing smile, you continued your turn around the room until the party started to die down. Then, you carefully excused yourself to go back up to your room and sleep. 

When you woke the next morning, Obi-Wan was gone. He left you a note saying that he had gone to work with Hamish and that he would be talking to you about that later. In the meantime, you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself.

The lazy morning light streaked across your bed, casting you in a warm glow. You stretched slightly before getting yourself ready for the day. 

Once downstairs, you heard screaming and squealing. Your training kicked in immediately and you found yourself running towards the sound.

It was not what you had expected. There were children running and playing games in the field. Their squeals of laughter were infectious and you caught a tired Edine trailing behind them to keep an eye on them as she bounced a baby on her hip.

“Ah, good. You’re up, Hen,” Edine smiled as she spotted you. “I was worried you’d be down for the count after last night’s feast.”

“I can keep up, if that’s what you were wondering,” you smiled as you fell in step with her. Your eyes fell to the little girl in her arms. “Who’s this beauty?”

“Ah, this wee one is Greer,” Edine said, nuzzling her nose against the baby’s. “Technically, she’s your niece. Would you like to hold her?”

“Me?” you asked. A slight panic settled in your chest as she passed the babe into your arms. However, after the first initial wave of fear was banished, you found yourself thinking of all the times you’d babysat the chreche for Master Yoda. Back then, it had been out of duty. But now? Now this awakened something deep in you. As the baby looked up at you with her bright eyes, she smiled and grasped your finger tightly. Your eyes softened as you bonded.

“Hello, lassie,” you murmured. “You are so incredibly precious.”

Edine watched you closely, a smile forming on her face. “How long have you known Obi?”

“Years,” you admitted, playing with the baby to keep her from entangling her tiny fingers in the scarf you wore around your neck. As you rocked her, you listened to her coo and giggle.

“Would you ever want kids, Lass?” Edine asked.

You looked down at the girl in your arms, smiling softly at her. As a Master, you’d be responsible for a padawan. They would be like your own to guide. That would have to be enough for you. In another life, though... you let the thought die before it finished. “I would.”

Someone cleared their throat from behind you. 

You turned, slightly shocked to find Obi-Wan behind the two of you. He was looking at you differently, as if seeing you in a new light. You raised a brow at him.

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed your cheek, “I missed you, mo chridhe. Would you mind if I stole you?”

“Of course,” You swallowed, falling back into business mode. After all, you had a mission here. You couldn’t afford to have distractions. Gently, you passed Greer back to Edine and followed Obi-Wan back to the house.

“I think this is the perfect position for me to learn more about the missing resources,” he smiled.

“Good. How long do you think it will take?” you asked, genuinely curious. Your resolve was already cracking on day one. You weren’t quite sure how much longer it would last if you had to stay here.

“A few rotations. I’ve volunteered to look over their books. I’m hoping that will shine some light on things. I’ve already seen a few inconsistencies that I need to look into further.”

You nodded, “The sooner we can resolve this, the better.”

“Miss the Temple?” he asked teasingly.

“No, but I feel like I should be helping the war effort more, and instead I’m here on vacation. My men are currently reinforcing Skywalker in the outer rim. Part of me feels guilty for not being there,” you told him. It was a half-truth. 

“Well, I will do my best to learn more.”

“I have no doubt you will,” you replied, looking out the window. You let the conversation die off as you turned your mind back to your conversation with his mother.

A few days later he returned home from work early with good news. 

“I’ve done it, mo chridhe!” he grinned, picking you up and twirling you around. “I’ve got proof that the clans are not underperforming. Their missing exports are being rerouted to the Separatists.”

“The Separatists?” someone gasped behind the two of you.

Quickly turning, you came face-to-face with Edine.

“Mother, I-”

“I heard you come in and wanted to make sure you were alright because you were home early,” she murmured. “You mean to say that the clans are working against the Republic?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, honestly, “The clans are not the ones rerouting the supplies. It’s the head of the Council.”

“But Hamish is the head of the Council,” Edine replied, “He’s always been a good lad.”

“Have you noticed anything different about him lately?” you asked.

“Well, he has been wearing finer clothes, but I thought he just had a good harvest,” Edine sighed.

“He’s been selling supplies from the clans who used to cause problems to the Separatists and pocketing the money,” Obi-Wan explained, “Then, he’s charging the underperforming clans more since Stewjon has to import due to their failures. I’m surprised no one has caught onto it.”

“He won’t get away with it,” Edine said firmly. “To jeopardize the honor of the clan is a grievous act. Abhainn won’t stand for it.”

“Mother, I don’t think you should involve him,” Obi-Wan said gently.

“Nonsense. This is clan business,” Edine replied. “Your father must know.”

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, turning to you with a look that suggested he wanted your help with this.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder. “If this is how things are done here, then this is how things are done.”

“See? The Hen knows. I’ll tell Abhainn as soon as he’s home and we’ll go from there,” Edine said before leaving the two of you alone.

Obi-Wan turned to you, “How could you let her do that?”

“We are peace keepers. That means advising, not taking over,” you replied, “If this is how things are done on Stewjon, then who are we to interrupt clan politics and customs?”

“But what if they get hurt?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

“I’ll protect them.”

“And who will protect you?” 

“You say that as if it hasn’t always been you,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek. As you noticed his blush, you quickly amended your statement. “Is that not a husband’s job?”

“Right,” he said, hanging his head. “Of course.”

“Based on those standards, though, one could argue that we’ve been married for years,” you teased.

He smiled at the ground, taking your hand to give it a kiss across your knuckles, “I suppose they could, mo chridhe.”

Just then, Abhainn appeared in the doorway, a serious look on his face. His mouth was a hard line.

“So you’ve heard,” Obi-Wan sighed, dropping your hand.

“Aye, lad. Your Ma told me,” Abhainn nodded. “Come, we’ve got much to discuss.”

Obi-Wan nodded and the two of you followed him down into the great hall downstairs. Gathered there were a group of men from the clan, all ready to listen intently to the plan.

It was decided that Obi-Wan would go to work as normal the next day and make copies of all the evidence in case Hamish tried to destroy it. Then, a group of clansmen would sneak into the government complex through the servant’s entrance. From there, they would apprehend Hamish and retrieve him from the building to stand trial.

“But what of the other clans?” You asked when it was all settled.

Abhainn appraised you, surprised by your question, “We’ll sell off Hamish’s assets. The sale of those items will go towards paying back the clans he betrayed.”

You nodded, “And Hamish?”

“Clan law dictates that it is up to the victims to decide the punishment. I’ll be contacting the leaders tomorrow to inform them of the charges,” Abhainn explained.

The crowd started to disperse, leaving just you and Edine in the hall. You watched Obi-Wan and Abhainn walk towards the study to talk some more.

“He’ll never see him as his father,” Edine commented.

“What makes you say that?”

“He calls me ‘mother,’ but it is clear that he doesn’t view Abhainn as his father.”

You swallowed, knowing why that was the case. “When a Master takes a Padawan, it is essentially like an adoption. Although Obi-Wan’s Master died some time ago, the bond between Master and Apprentice is strong. In many ways, Qui-Gon was like a father to Obi-Wan. They went through a lot together.”

“I see,” Edine nodded, “Did he treat my boy well?”

You thought of all the times you’d seen the two of them frustrated with each other. Then, you remembered how Qui-Gon turned down a seat on the Council in order to stay with Obi-Wan. “He would have done anything for him.”

“As any father would,” Edine murmured. “I keep wondering what life would have been like if he had stayed, but then I remember that if you truly love someone, you must set them free to fly.”

“I’m glad to have met you,” you told her. 

“And I am glad to have met you, hen,” she grinned. “He’s lucky to have you.”

You felt your face grow hot as you went to leave, “No, it is truly the other way around.”

The next day, a pit of apprehension settled in your stomach. You were waiting in the corridor behind the building for Obi-Wan’s signal to enter. Behind you were a group of warriors, rustling in anticipation.

“Come on, Obi,” you murmured, growing restless yourself. 

As if he had heard you, your commlink beeped, signaling that it was time. Waving on the men behind you, you all quickly entered the building before they split off to block the exits leaving only you and Abhainn. 

“I’m surprised you tagged along, lass,” Abhainn muttered as you rounded a corner.

“I’m not defenseless,” you smirked, your hand settling on your lightsaber at your side.

“I had no doubt about that,” he grinned as the two of you came to a stop in front of Hamish’s office. 

You gave Abhainn a count of three before kicking down the door, your lightsaber igniting at your side.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hamish screeched as the two of you came into view. 

Obi-Wan ignited his own saber from his spot behind Hamish’s chair.

“You’re under arrest, lad,” Abhainn informed him, “For crimes against the clans.”

“Abhainn, I’ve done nothing against Clan Kenobi-” Hamish started to protest.

“A crime against another clan is a crime against the honor of Clan Kenobi,” Abhainn grit out. “You should be ashamed of yourself, lad. I know I am.”

“Abhainn, I can explain!”

“Explain it to the other clans at your trial,” Abhainn clipped, taking a pair of shackles out and handcuffing Hamish. 

The four of you made your way through the building and out front, meeting back up with your group of warriors. 

“Take him back to the clan,” Abhainn said, pushing him towards a duo who marched Hamish towards the road. Abhainn turned back to everyone else with a grin,  “I think this calls for a celebration.”

A cheer broke out among the men and you soon found yourselves swept up in a party in the great hall. The clan was quickly getting rowdy in their glee. You found Obi-Wan on the outskirts of the commotion and sidled up next to him.

“Not your cup of tea?” you asked with a smile.

“I’m just taking it all in,” he murmured.

“Thinking of what could have been?”

“In a way,” he admitted. “Although, as nice as they are, I know I’m on the right path.”

“How do you know that?” you asked with your brow furrowing.

His gaze settled on you and he smiled warmly, “Oh, I just know, mo chridhe.”

You tilted your head and turned back to the crowd, “We should get going. It’s a long way back to Coruscant.”

“We should change out of all this tartan first,” he said, looking down at his kilt. “Anakin would never let me live this down.”

You chuckled, following him back upstairs to change and pack your things before coming back to say goodbye.

A hush settled over the crowd as slowly the celebration came to a halt when they noticed that you were both back in your Jedi robes.

“We came to say goodbye,” Obi-Wan murmured.

“So, you’ll be going back to the Temple now?” Abhainn asked.

“How did you-” Obi-Wan started.

“The lightsabers gave it away, son. They’re only the weapon of a Jedi,” he smiled.

“It’s where you belong, a sheòid. You were meant for that path,” Edine said with a sad smile.  “Although, your acting was good. You had us fooled.”

You looked at Edine in a new light. A Jedi’s strength was in their resolve. You saw that same type of resolve now in Edine as she let her son go again for the second time in her life. It showed a strength of character that you weren’t sure even Master Yoda had.

“Well, we’ll walk you back to your ship,” Edine sniffed, holding her hand out to Obi-Wan.

He hesitated for a moment. You could see his feelings warring on his face as he contemplated taking it. She was his mother, and that was an unchangeable fact, but she was a stranger in many ways. Yet, he knew her heart. He smiled softly and took her hand, walking with her all the way back to the ship. Along the way, he pointed out the places she had told him about, reiterating her stories to show he had been paying attention. 

The ramp of the ship jutted out in front of you. The reality of the situation loomed over you both as you stood in the shadow of the vessel. 

Reluctantly, Edine let go of her son’s hand to give you a hug. “About what we talked about,” she murmured in your ear, “We have a saying here, ‘what’s for you won’t go past you.’”

“Where I come from we say, ‘if the force wills it, then so it will be,’” you replied as you pulled back.

“It’s the same sentiment, Hen,” she said, patting your cheek affectionately. “Safe travels.”

You smiled, walking up the ramp to give Obi-Wan a moment alone with his parents. As you passed into the ship, you caught a glimpse of them embracing. For once, Obi-Wan didn’t look uncomfortable.

Faintly, you could hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

“I know you were acting that you were farmers, but you can’t be acting about how you feel,” Abhainn said pointedly.

“Don’t let that go,” Edine pleaded.

Obi-Wan looked up at where you stood and smiled before turning back to his parents, “May the force be with you, always.”

The two of you made your way to the cockpit and initiated the flight sequence, moving as one. 

Soon, your ship was cruising through hyperspace, leaving a silence to settle over the two of you as you sat next to each other on a bunk.

“About the mission-” you started.

“We need to talk-” we need to talk he murmured.

You looked at each other and chuckled.

“You first,” he said.

“About the mission,” you murmured, “I have to be honest with you. I... wasn’t acting for a lot of it.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his lap, “Darling, we can’t. It goes against everything we were taught.”

“No it doesn’t,” you pleaded, taking his hand. “Obi-Wan, relationships are not frowned upon as long as you can let go of someone when the time comes. If all relationships were forbidden then we would all be solitary. Relationships are a form of support.”

He gazed up at you, stroking his thumb along the back of your hand, “That’s just the thing. I don’t know if I would be able to let go.”

Your eyes softened as he reached up to stroke your cheek. Leaning into his touch, you murmured, “But I’m not worth the Order.”

“You’re worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. “It’s just... there’s a war. We have our duties and our burdens to carry. I don’t want to add worrying about me to your list.”

“Obi-Wan, I’ve always worried about you,” you laughed. “That isn’t new.”

“If anyone found out...” he sighed.

“Last time I checked, you were better at keeping secrets than your Padawan,” you teased.

He smirked at you, wagging a finger, “He’s never been good at that.”

“Obi-Wan,” you murmured, leaning in slightly, “What does ‘mo chridhe’ mean?”

“Hmmm?” he asked, playing dumb.

“You kept calling me ‘mo chridhe’ while we were on Stewjon. What does it mean?” you pressed.

He blushed, running his hand through his hair, “It’s... it’s the native language for ‘my heart.’”

“I’m your heart?” you asked with a grin.

“You are,” he admitted softly, looking at you with eyes full of raw emotion. “You’re in the creases and the corners to the point where you overrun it and... and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You felt the air exit your lungs as you acted on instinct. In moments, your lips were pressed to his. His hand reached up to cup the nape of your neck as he kissed you back with equal passion, pressing you into the bed.

I love you.

He smiled against your lips before pulling back for air. 

You felt the unmistakeable feeling of the ship exiting hyperspace. 

“We’re home,” he murmured.

You nodded before pulling him back down for as many kisses as you could get in until you were pulled into the atmosphere. Only then did you allow yourself to quietly slip back into the mindset of a Jedi. Only then did you carefully tuck your happiness away to revisit later in the stillness of your chamber or on a desolate planet after a defeat. You would have time to dwell on it. Until then, you would be the perfect Jedi, fueled by the knowledge that you were in love, and loved in return.

[juhakn]

Spring Had Just Ended

Words count: 7.5k

Theme: Slowburn, angst, fluff, established friendship

Pairing: Ten Lee and reader

summary: this summer is not what you expected when your childhood friend is back in town for a month break from college. the same person, the same feelings

You lost your cat.

Well, rather, she was the one who got lost but for some invalid reasons, your family blames you for the incident. May I remind you, an incident you clearly do not have anything to do with.

So here you are, with your friend Ten; whom you consider is very useless in your journey of finding the cat. I am a cat person, he states. You cock my eyebrow at him, completely disagreeing with his statement. He hops on the rocks, the wet rock that lives in the shallow river. It used to be your hiding spot-your cat, Thian loved to follow you here.

But college got you two caved in.

The both of you forgot to keep each other updated as he studies in Thailand, his home city while you're stuck here, in a town you're getting tired with. He would always nag every chance he gets about how you're wasting my intelligence over a small town that doesn't offer great majors.

"It holds a special place in my heart," is what you'd say.

Right now, you feel like dropping.

Holding your phone, you continue to follow wherever he goes-except Thailand. Maybe you shouldn't have brought him with you, maybe both of you shouldn't have decided to come back here in summer. He stops, "hey remember this?" he grins, his hand grasping a rock, carved with his initial and yours. Your lips couldn't help but lift themselves into a gentle smile, "yes I do, idiot."

"I remember you telling me a cat person should be able to attract cats within 50 miles away- which is complete bullshit by the way-and I somehow wore a fucking cat ears just to prove you I am one, in Halloween." He looks at you with an idiotic smile on his face. The same old smile that always makes your heart do laps.

"for the record, we were 13 and yes, a cat person should be able to attract cats within 50 miles away. You were just in denial like you are right now," you scoff.

You're the one who's in denial.

[23:17]

The quest in searching for your family (and yours) beloved Thian was a fail.

But somehow, Ten did end up in your house, eating dinner with your mother who keeps complaining about how he doesn't remember her anymore (because it's his first time visiting her in three years). You're fiddling with the spaghetti you're trying to find interesting.

Ten was a friend you met during high school, he moved from Thailand to your small town- something you're intrigued by. Why would someone ever fly all the way from a beautiful country that has little bits to everything to a small, secluded, town that absolutely doesn't have everything?

My parents wanted somewhere closed off, he would say, with a shrug followed by.

He wasn't your neighbour, or at least in your point of view (you think neighbours are the ones who lives beside, not in front of two houses by) he was a classmate.

You couldn't speak Thai, but Ten still would talk in his native language with you. Slowly, you would pick up some words but that was after he rushed to college. You never had a chance to show off your skill. Not that he's here...you feel off.

Ten was just like anyone else, he showed no interest in learning but is forced to. He once confessed about dropping school so he could become a performer.

In which he left you, for a dance major.

For his dream.

You once watched him dance. It was the month before he left for Thailand, chasing his dream. He let his warm hand slid into yours, gently grasping your fingers and stroking your hand with his thumb.

"I wanna show you something." And he did, he tugged you to your secret little space by the stream.

You watched him take off his shoes, switching them with his ballet ones. He had a big grin plastered on his face, "okay, I'm not that good so...please tell me how I did." As his toes pointed to the ground, he took a deep breath and twirl with passion.

He was a ballerino and you were falling.

[10:44]

"Do you think she'll come back?"

It was a question you loved to ask yourself. It was winter and you were lost. You still are, but you think you're getting back on track now that he's here.

Both of you decided to catch up with life, drove to the city and hang out in a newly opened cafe. There's no talking, but it's not awkward. Rather, it's comforting. You stop picking with your vanilla cake.

You look at your friend's eyes, oh-you could stare into those beautiful brown eyes of his for god who knows-you sigh, "I don't know Ten, I don't know." And it isn't a question, it's a dilemma.

Should you tell him how you feel or should you not?

You clench your teeth, the bitter taste on your tongue stayed. You just want to dance with him, you want to tell him, take your hand and wish he'd take it like his life depends on it. But that's okay, you think. But that's fine, you think. But that's nice, you think

But that hurts, you smile.

"Does Mrs Millers still sell her cherry ade? Man, I miss those days when we got them for free. I never understood why she didn't want to market it. She could be a millionaire for all we know." Ten huffs, his palm resting on his chin. He had always had pretty features, a button nose, big doe eyes, beautiful tanned skin and long eyelashes.

You couldn't bring yourself to think about his lips, you're scared you might jump onto his pink ones.

He looks at you and you reply with a shriek, "she doesn't sell them but she does still give us them," you pause, "free of charge."

Ten hums, eyes darting away from yours.

He looks at the pedestrians crossing the street, the woman walking her raging chihuahua and a man beside her with his golden retriever. The old grumpy man wearing a checkered patterned flat cap, thrusting his hands into his old, thorned brown leather jacket. Those girls chatting while eating ice cream in the hot summer wearing a matching strawberry dress.

You chuckle softly, the old man must love his grandchildren to death. You wonder if he even does have one.

In your small town, they don't have a cute modern cafe but an old vintage one. It's a cute, small building that has gone old, probably more than two decades. Its owner is an old lady named Michelle Suh whose husband is far below 6 feet in the ground. She's a sweet lady who'd give the two of you free sandwiches after school ended.

She has gotten old, the cafe would probably be closed by a few months.

Ten's eyes wander off to the old couple swinging their hands sweetly as they cross the street, adoring each other lovely.

"I wish that could be us..."

The cream tastes awful.

[11:15]

"Have you two lads date already?" Is the first greeting Mrs Millers asked. She doesn't hesitate to express her feelings (which you do admire), it just slips off her lips.

You choke on the carbonated cherry flavoured drink, your cheeks heating up with the same colour as the deep red cherries. Ten laughs freely, brushing off the old woman with his hands jokingly, stating, "I don't think we don't suit each other."

You look down at your shoes, they're sandals with a huge sunflower on each to add more aesthetical pleasing. Or maybe you're looking at the shattered pieces of your heart.

The old woman with a cherry apron sighs, "I was wishing you two could get married after my son." She smiles bitterly, disappointed that her favourite ship is sinking.

"Oh? Jungwoo's getting married?" Her son perks your interest, you haven't seen him for years after he went to boarding school. He's a couple of years younger but he's handsome.

You noticed how Ten's face dropped after you changed the subject to Kim Jungwoo; the high school student you had a crush on. It was a phase, you say. Mrs Millers is Jungwoo's foster mom, after his parents couldn't afford to raise him so Mrs Millers took him into her family's warm embrace.

Kim Jungwoo still keeps in contact with his biological parents. You knew because he accidentally overshares about his family issues when you found him crying by the river after school. You knew because the two of you would hang out by the river before Ten came. You knew because Jungwoo was your friend.

"Jungwoo's engagement was off last minute. He's here but he's a guy with a broken heart. The love of his life left him and he's a human." You pity both Mrs Millers who's forcing her lips to smile and Jungwoo...who's overwhelmed with sadness.

"Can I talk to him, Mrs Millers?" You raise your hand, asking for her consent. She nods weakly, "you can, but I'm not sure if he'd answer." And you understand, because he hates it when someone sees him at his weakest.

Once again, you knew because he told you when he cried on your shoulder when his dog died. Tuu, a white Samoyed, was his emotional support (besides you).

You sigh, thinking of all possibilities Jungwoo might make them happen. "It's okay if he doesn't, I just miss him...I want him to know that I'm here, always."

Ten flinches, but no one noticed.

Mrs Millers walk to her fridge and take the cold ham sandwich before giving it to you. She softly whispers, "can you please bring this to him, (Y/n)? He rarely goes out these days."

You nod.

You left Ten and Mrs Millers talking to each other, completely in their world. You take a deep breath, "I hope he's okay..." And walk upstairs, carefully, without making too many noises.

You knock on Jungwoo's door, softly asking his permission for you to enter. There's no response. Twice, nothing. Thrice, still quiet. You knock aga-

Jungwoo opens his door. He has eyebags under his red, dull eyes. His skin looks lifeless, he looks lifeless. Like a zombie who has nothing to do with life. No passion, no motivation...no Kim Jungwoo.

His lips quiver seeing you and you mind yourself to not squish the cold sandwich when hugging him as you slowly take him into your arms. He sobs into your chest and you coo, "there, there, my pretty boy...I'm here, jungwoo. I'm home." You pat his back with a steady rhythm.

You gentle sway your bodies into his room and closes the door by kicking it with your toe. You caress his soft brown locks, still cooing his sweet words.

For a solid 10 minutes, his sobs have stopped. You look down at him, your thumb lifts his chin for him to connect your eyes. He looks miserable, heartbroken.

You stroke his cheek gently with your thumb, "whoever did this to you, they don't know you deserve more. You deserve better, my love." You give him a sweet longing kiss on his forehead. One that screams "I miss you!".

"Now don't cry anymore, you look like a lost sad puppy." You playfully squish his cheeks with your hands, drawing circles on his soft cheeks. His lips inch for a smile as he looks at you.

Plopping down onto his bed, he follows by resting his head on your lap as you brush his hair. It used to be a hobby of yours when you two were still in high school. You think the habit might come back.

"They said they love me," Jungwoo starts. "And I believed them..." His voice shakes, his heart couldn't bear the past. "They left me, saying we were just never meant to be...it hurts knowing that I still love them. For 4 fucking years, (Y/n)," he halts.

"For 4 fucking years, we were in love and they ended it. I left after that. I left Paris and got lost. But I'm here." He cries.

His sobs get louder when hides himself in his palms. You sigh deeply, your shaking hands' pats his head. "I know that feeling," you whisper.

You do? Jungwoo asks. For 6 years of friendship, you never talk about your love life to him. He thought you were just aroromantic, so he never really cares.

"Yeah, I do." You answered his question.

"That feeling when you're just not meant to be and now you're regretting taking their hands into yours, regretting being there for them when they're sad, regretting loving them because-"

"-they left." Jungwoo continues bitterly. You nod out a yeah, you don't mind if he interrupts, it's Jungwoo and you're willing to drop the whole world for him. You stop playing with his hair and take a moment before continuing, "or maybe you don't regret loving them. You think they're the right person, but as soon as you do...they just left."

"You wanna think it's a mistake, a mistake that they leave. But it's just regret." You playfully Boop his cute nose and he scrunch it. It's cute, you think.

"I guess we're the mistresses who fell in love with married guys." Jungwoo pouts, and you nearly squish him to death. He's adorable and you're this close to snuggle him to death.

"Except that they're not." You emphasis. "And I was going to." He says as he rolls his eyes.

You interlock your hands with him, rubbing them against your cheek. "We make mistakes but I don't know if it was ever a mistake," Jungwoo confesses rather timidly. And you know he's lost, just like you.

Two friends lost in love.

Jungwoo laughs with a thin line of sadness lined in between his sweet voice. "I think they were the ones who made a mistake for leaving us, don't you think so?" He looks up at you, eyes wide open as he asks curiously.

You hum, "in your case, yes. How could a little pretty boy who deserves the whole world got left?" You say as you bring your hands to cradle his cheeks and squish them together. You earn a lively laugh from him and honestly, that's all you ever wanted. For a moment, the two of you stare at the sunset. Into different worlds, the two of you are still able to communicate with each other. He's on his own and vice versa. It's a quiet time where you both enjoy the silence in each other's warmth. The cold sandwich has already gotten into Jungwoo's stomach and he quote, "cold ham sandwiches are superior."

Jungwoo realises about what you said so he asked, "how about yours?"

"It was my choice."

[14:54]

Ten is intimidated by Jungwoo's height but he could never bring that up or you'll tease him till death. By the time you wave at the mother and her precious son, he drags you to his bike. Ten never liked cars, he fancies bikes more than them, you recall.

"What did you guys talk about?" He asks carefully with a straight face while helping you with the helmet. You shrug, "We just talk and cuddle. That's it."

Ten halts, but quickly hops onto his bike. You watch him throwing a small tantrum-by pressing the bike's gear, creating a very loud noise. As he drives you to your house, he whines quietly.

"Cuddles? Seriously? What is he? A toddler who needs cuddles to cheer up?"

As he drops you off, he runs off-without saying goodbyes. You throw your head back, stressed over your bottled up feelings for your hot friend. Ten is hot, you admit.

For anything, he's so hot you remember thinking about him in a suit during prom in the exam that you forgot to answer the exam paper. It was embarrassing and nice. He's unbearably hot that your coffee was overflowing all because you're too busy staring at his new haircut. He's too hot that you nearly missed a traffic light while driving because you were thinking about how good he could be with you.

And Ten still doesn't know about your feelings.

And you're getting pretty tired with all those butterflies that appear every time he texts you good mornings and goodnights. You're tired of those flips your stomach does whenever he smiles at you. You're tired of your heart running miles every damn time he laughs at your corny jokes.

You throw yourself onto your soft bed, head in the pillow, socks still on your feet, your sling bag somewhere on the carpeted floor and your necklace are still on.

Tomorrow's Monday.

And you have applied to work at the small cat book cafe with Sicheng. Sicheng is a friend of Jungwoo's you met during the middle school reunion. Sicheng never liked reading but he said that's the only job the town ever has. And you agree with the Chinese man.

Ten haven't met Sicheng yet, you think.

Why does every time you try to think about anything that doesn't remind you of his gorgeous self, you always find a way back to thinking about him? It feels like he connects your universe (which he does), and you will never get lost.

But you feel as if you're disappearing in the forest of love. It's hazy, you feel dizzy. The fuzziness inside you never left and biology can't even explain the feeling scientifically. You're mad, mad in love with Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.

You shout into the poor pillow, letting your feelings go around messing your room instead of your brain. You are tired and you have work tomorrow.

So you sleep.

Wearing earphones, sad playlist shuffles to help you lull to a deep peaceful slumber without Ten.

[19:13]

"(Y/n), (Y/n)!"

Sicheng snaps you from your daydream. You blink, twice. You still can't get him out of your head. He's just there, running through your mind, living rent-free. He should at least pay one dollar for every time he crossed your mind and you'd still get only one dollar because he never leaves.

Sicheng doesn't know who Ten is, at least visually/physically, but he knows you like the man. Sicheng could tell from the way your eyes are reflecting love or whatever that shit is. He thinks love isn't real and you do agree...halfway.

"I'm sorry-what were you saying, Sicheng?" You ask with a sheepish smile, your hand awkward scratches the nape of your neck. Sicheng pinches in between his eyebrow, forehead creasing. "I'm suggesting, (Y/n). Stop thinking about Ten!" He glares, and you absentmindedly take note of Sicheng's cuteness when angry.

"I wasn't thinking about him!" Your voice is an octave high, so it's a lie. You can't lie anyways, Sicheng's sun in the Scorpio allows him to read your mind. You don't believe in astrology-it's all just a big coincidence. Sicheng however does study astrology along with astronomy. He hates physics for that, but he believes in magical stuff and rituals.

Sicheng is a spiritual man.

He rolls his eyes, "whatever. I'm saying if we can put up posters about your missing cat around the town." You bit your lips. Ten had already done that the second he found out Thian went missing. "Ten already spread the news around. If anything happens, they'd call him before me." You sigh, Ten is a smart guy.

"He's a nice guy."

That's the problem. He's a nice guy and you're pushing him away. You're the stupid one for not getting him, not confessing to him. He could be the one, he also could be a passerby.

You want him to be in your life, not just a passerby who watches your life from afar. Not just the star who appears only when you need him. You want him to be your love, always there even if you don't need him.

Maybe just maybe, he can be your Juliet-without the tragic death event(s).

Sicheng goes back to pet the fat orange cat on the counter whilst looking out for customers. He tends to keep away from rumours about him slacking off. He leans in against the marble counter, smirking, "you know, if you keep thinking about him, I'm afraid he might show up." Sicheng snarky comment make you feel less nervous.

"You attract what you fear," you warm him. You walk back to cleaning the windows, way too occupied with talking to your handsome co-worker. Sometimes you wonder what could you have done to be blessed with attractive people in your life. You're lucky to live in the same realm, era, area, with them. And the fact that you know them...personally, is, really wholesome.

"No wonder he's here." Sicheng comments and you nearly slip. A what feels like an electric shock makes your body slightly imbalanced from the slippery tiled floor.

"Oh, shit-" you brush off the stain on your shirt. You look around, there's no Ten.

Sicheng laughs as you feel your cheeks warming up. You grasp the dirty towel and throw it onto Sicheng. You don't aim for his face because he's so pretty it hurts...yet it ended up flying directly to his forehead.

You burst out bubbly laughs, holding your stomach while Sicheng picks up the dirty towel with disgust. Sicheng looks at you and looks back at the towel. "Now, would it harm someone if I throw this to someone?" His lips curl up into a vicious smile.

You notice and quickly run between the books. You know Sicheng wouldn't dare to throw it- he might ruin the vintage. And he loves them. Summer is when we read books with cats, he states.

As the two of you continue playing around and bickers about the towel, the bell door rings. A customer has entered. Your eyes dart to the door and your knees wobble. A very, attractive young man whom you assumed is probably a graduate is greeting a calico cat named Hana. "God...why do such men always surround themselves in our lives?" Sicheng bites his lips.

"I don't know, but he is damn hot." You whisper, eyes still glancing at the stranger. "Hey, you have Ten! Enough collecting!" Sicheng flicks your forehead and you swear you heard a loud smack. You heard a soft chuckle behind you. "You know Ten?"

You turn around, dizzy. The man has a sharp nose, a defined jaw and big eyes. His cheekbones are visible and that makes him more...hot. however, hot is not the right word to describe his attractiveness. Perhaps, gorgeous does. You stutter over your words, "Yes- yes I do know Ten!" You cringed at yourself.

The man's eyes gleam under the light of the cafe upon hearing your answer. "Do you want coffee?" Sicheng interrupts, finding excuses to get away from the eye-gouging scene. It's exaggerated, he knows. The mystery man simply nods and asks for a cup of iced Americano. Sicheng's breath hitch, "basic bitch."

He doesn't mean it in a bad way.

Sicheng sets his foot to the coffee maker. The mystery man looks back at you, his charming smile never fades. He slowly leans in and whispers, "please do something about Ten. We're getting a bit annoyed by his rants." Your eyes widen, taken aback by his sudden action. The man simply takes a step back and winks, "the name's Hendery. We'll have lots of meetings from now on."

"I'm...glad?"

"Here's your coffee!" Sicheng suddenly appears and Hendery pays for it. He points his index finger to your lips and puts it on his own before mumbling about what you think is, "secret."

Hendery walks out after he pets all the cats in the cafe (which takes him around 10 minutes because they're 10 cats). Sicheng nudges your elbow, "what was that all about?" You shake your head, "I don't know but I do know he's handsome."

Although, handsome is an understatement. Hendery is...heavenly charming. Yeah, you think he suits heavenly more. However, Ten is still on top of the list. Because ten is hot as hell.

[07:27]

Spending time with cats is never on the summer bucket list but you think it completed the summer itself. You can die happily now. Not to mention now that Ten is here, summer is a bit warm for you now. Warm because you're currently holding his hand tightly-as if you'd let him go any second, on your way to watch a play.

Few hours earlier, he had invited you to watch his friend's play, Hendery, together. At first, you didn't think plays are for you. Heck, that thought never once appear in your mind. But seeing Ten was so desperate for you to be there with him, you thought, why not? It could never harm anyone.

Your heart feels giddy and fuzzy. As soon as he shows the tickets to the security, he pulls your hand excitedly. Perhaps he's just giving his friend his support.

Joy overtook you as he continues holding your hand even during the play which makes your focus on him, not the play. Though the only thing you remember is the title of the play; "Charming Lady." It is not a traditional play, Ten whispers.

It's my original idea, he grins. You scrunch your nose in confusion, plays requires money, you remember. So how in the world-oh...

It's my original idea, he grins. You scrunch your nose in confusion, plays requires money, you remember. So how in the world—oh. Ten's a famous chef's son and yet, he still doesn't know how to cook rice...for some reason (he has his mother why would he cook?). He's rich as hell, for crying out loud. Everyone would sacrifice themselves just to be served by his family. Their speciality in cooking raised everyone's standard on one's tasting buds whether by the texture, presentation or the taste itself. You once tried their signature, pineapple crab curry, cried and you swore to never discriminate food ever again.

"This...is voluntary. You could say I just want to share my world of arts with people for free. The tickets are exclusively given for people with love for art. I did some research of them...and it's intriguing." Ten lay back on his seat, careful not to spill his coffee onto the floor.

Coffee and plays, a combination you never know you need. It goes well together. The bittersweet longing taste of espresso laces within the dramatic plots of acted out scenes. Truly, a masterpiece.

[00:58]

Charming lady is a rather cliche story, you must say.

Charming lady is based off a woman's dream of becoming a wife to a rich man and travelling the world. And sadly, the man she loves moves away without her as he finds more opportunities in other countries. She would cry herself to sleep every night, wishing-maybe God would help.

Poor soul, you think.

Just like you.

Hopelessly in love with a man you know you would never have chance with. And to every each day you wish for him to look at you, may if it's just seconds, may if it's just a short while. You hope those twinkling eyes of his would shine seeing you, but you could only hope.

You hate fate.

As the story progresses, hendery is the protagonist, the villian or whatever Ten said. Now, Hendery's role is the most crucial affect to the whole plot. He thicken the play by simply pursuing the woman-a whole cliche, likewise.

But you know how it feels.

To see someone who's in love, but not you. You're desperate, you're selfish for wanting him. But how could the little heart of yours endure such a burden in the name of love? Whether it'd be yours or his. As you grew up, you understood the villain more this developing a hatred passion towards the selfish hero(es).

You couldn't shed a tear but something break your heart there.

You know Ten will be leaving again.

His love for dancing wouldn't get him anywhere if he stays here.

After the two of you watched the theatre, Ten suggested a cafe that sells good sweets. The evening is quiet beautiful today with the clouds blushing on the horizon, the sun spreading its last shiny crown for today. You look at the menu, chose one portion of banana milk smooth and a red bean flavoured bun while Ten orders Chai Tea for himself.

"Hey! I've been calling your name for 3 minutes now!!" Ten's voice sorts your thoughts back to reality. You whisk your head to look at him and apologize. "I was way in my mind." You rub your arms softly, the cold night of summer is a hassle. You may never feel his warmth again after this.

He makes an annoyed expression, "here's your smoothie. Banana. And that's probably the only thing I hate bout you, hoe." You snicker, "it's just a smoothie, Ten! You're just getting on your own nerves!" You let out a big laugh, one that make your stomach flips.

"Ew, we're definitely not soulmates." Ten says with a disgust, his tongue poking out and his eyebrows furrowed. He takes your hand in his, grasping it lightly as if you're as fragile as a glass. Your lips reach for the cold blended beverage and slowly sips. Ten watches is disbelief, his eyes narrowed-he's not a fond of fruit, his mother said 6 years ago.

"You know, that play was a first. I really appreciate it when you said you could come. I know it's not that great to you...because you've always hated love and stuff...but seeing my best friend showing up to give support is nice." His ears are red as a cherry, you noticed. Your breath got heavier as your chest thumps vigorously against your ribcage, begging to burst out.

Honestly, you don't really mind if he views you as just a friend. You are far more happy to be on his 'my loved ones' list. If you're able to make him happy, that's all that matters.

You sigh deeply, "what can I say to my parasite? I have to give everything of mine or you'd die." You ruffle his hair, smiling from ear to ear. Ten grins, like a cat, and your heart did a back flip.

"Let's go home."

Ten shakes his head upon hearing your suggestion. "Come on, (Y/n). It's been two weeks and we ever did was going to a cafe, work and sleep. Aren't you getting bored?" The man wiggle his eyebrows playfully and you know where is this going. You laugh, "Ten, I have work tomorrow and I can't afford to sleep late today."

Tomorrow's Tuesday and by now, you've just realised how time flew so fast. It feels like it was just yesterday Ten moved to your neighbourhood. It feels like it was just yesterday the first time the two of you met. It wasn't even special or dramatic like anyone's first loves, but...it is special at least to you.

Little things pasts like the waves. So you want to cherish everything before the end of the world. You are afraid of not completing the role of yours before you die but your mother always warn; "never rush into life or death will move forward." You look up, the soft night breeze softly gust onto your cheeks. A little goodnight by them. The stars are laid across the black canvas of the so called night sky.

Ten looks up too, "who said that?" He closes his eyes for a second, enjoying his youth while he still can before adulthood reaches his time. He continues, "anyways, I was going to tell you to let's go rob your cafe."

This caught your attention—he always does nonetheless. Your eyes widen as saucers, breath hitched, cheeks flushed from the cold,"are you crazy?" You stressed. Ten shrugs his shoulders and meet you in the eye. "For the cats, (Y/n). Think of the cats!" He exclaims dramatically—and you like that about him. He always care for little things, he's attentive of others. Ten may deny all of your sweet statements of his but you know better.

"You're still not over by that?" You roll your eyes and if not, you want to show him your eyeballs fall out of the sockets then put it back in. Just to show him how "annoyed" you are.

On his fourth day of vacation—1 summer free of notifications of "new assignment posted"—you had told him about how Mrs. Suh loves the cats but not enough to let them into her house. She said it reminds her of her late husband. "No, how could they let the cats caged overnight? That's like...a devil's son."

You turn to Ten, "Oh Ten, they're fed. They also will go to walk every morning. It's not like they're dying!" Your feet starts walking to its own pace on the concrete path. The city is quiet, peace and calm. Ten follows. Just like he always does and now, to you, it's time you go on your own paths for the sake of yourselves.

"Fine, fine. I admit I'm exaggerating." He thrusts his cold hands into the pocket of his denim jacket. Ten has things for fashion. Occasionally, he designs for small companies for savings or charity. You flash a grin,"do you still want to do it?" And Ten nod enthusiastically, excited.

You think for a minute and, "race you to the cafe!" You grasp onto your banana smoothie cup firmly, it's only half full. He seems to be taken aback, nonetheless, he starts chasing, shouting, "hey, that's like 20 miles on foot!"

Breathless, still on the run, you turn,"then you better get your foot on the damn pedal!"

Does Nakata ever cares about others? The outcome is a big fat no in red. But even for cats, there are some exceptions and Ten is the exception. The Siamese cat doesn't like anyone unless it's Ten Lee. But fuck the world for having only one Lee Yongqin.

[00:13]

Ten decide to only let Nakata out to avoid getting you fired.

He gently stroke the purring cat.

Oh, to be a cat is a blessing. To be pat by a man named Ten Lee is a blessing. You look in awe, "See, Nakata? I told you you're a 'tsundere'."

The cat glares, then proceeds back to enjoy his little massage therapy. He's too tired to argue you (or he just simply loves ignoring people). You chuckle, turning to Ten. "Do you want some coffee?"

Ten shakes his head briefly. "I don't want an adrenaline rush." You shrug your shoulders, his lost. "Oh please, as if college students aren't caffeine addicts. I'm dialling the pizza." You say, phone on your hand, dialling the local pizza. When you were a kid (actually still till this day), you develop a fear of ordering. And you absolutely hate it when your mom left you alone at the cashier because apparently she forgot to grab the sugar.

You had no money and you were nervous seeing the line had shorten up.

You ring up, and order one box of pepperoni. Classic choice. Nothing goes wrong with classics. Ten sighs, sinking into the torn couch. "Seriously, I live off pizza and coffee. Kun probably hates me for that." He smirks, remembering a friend from college. "There are so many reasons to hate you, darling. Hey, isn't Kun a music major?" You smirk.

Ten once told you about Kun, his roommate. Ten is the epitome of party of life and he could never turn down alcohol for God's sake. Because God forbid him being sober. And one time, he knocked out himself and Kun had to dragged his ass back home. Kun was mostly mad that he had to be responsible for Ten (because the lecturer would ask him about Ten's whereabouts). The whole campus knows they're roommates.

Ten's famous, it's expected.

And you somehow still remember it because 1)if you were to be in love, you will make sure to remember everything. 2)he complains about how kun sounds like his mom a lot—and you could never be anymore happy knowing there is someone taking care of him. 3)kun told you too. He also figured out on how much you're in love with Ten and quoted, "it's as if he's your world—no, your entire universe." And you couldn't agree more. You and kun are secretly friends behind Ten's back.

Preferably because you two gossips about him in the chat...a lot. He said they're for blackmailing if Ten ever threatens him. But you just answer, drop a basket of fruits on the welcoming mat, monotonously.

"Yeah, he always nag how we don't take care of health. Calories and whatever. Sometimes I wonder why he just don't take nutritions."

""Yeah, he always nag how we don't take care of health. Calories and whatever." Ten huffs, watching the cat jumps off his lap and dissapear somewhere between the wooden shelves. "He sounds like Winwin. That guy always nag about people's taste in coffee. He hates it when they order iced Americano because apparently, that's basic." You say with despite, because he did judge you for just ordering iced Americano. It isn't your fault for getting overwhelmed by the sudden tick of anxiety.

That was a year ago, the night you met Sicheng. It was Christmas and he was desperate to close the cafe and barely even got the cats into the cage.

Ten rolls his eyes, "tell me about it." But in the end, he knows you have a soft spot for Sicheng (though he never really know who is this man). That man is cute and has a thing for astrology? Sign (Y/n) the fuck up. Ten is still busy catching up with other people and it's selfish of you to think he'd give up his time just for you. You wish you're his only friend but Ten's an extrovert. He greets everyone and anyone.

You decide to take a bold step forward, "how's dancing?" The topic still hurts you a bit but maybe it's time to move on. What happened already happened. He looks at you dead in the eye. "You know, why can't I just dance and drop the history in dancing? Why do we have to use our brains too? It's exhausting!" He throws his arms into the air, letting out a wail. His focus now on you, he asks, "how about you?"

The question is blurry. The answer is ambiguous. Is he asking about how are you doing? Should you answer with, "oh I'm in love with you and it hurts when you weren't here," or "oh, everything's okay, even if my heart aches like shit and I nearly died from the butterflies you gave me," and you choose neither.

Instead, you reply with, "journalism is still shitty. But Miss Dahlia is shittier. She thinks the whole world revolves around her." You say with despite lacing between your teeth. You hate her with a passion for asking you to write an essay about inspiration. To be decent, you entered journalism to write articles about true crime stories.

"Elaborate."

"Please allow me to jump out of the window and bury myself into the ground."

"Straight to hell." He offers his first bump. And gladly greet him back.

"From, hell."

The doorbell rings. The pizza has arrived. You walk towards the door and grab Ten's wallet from his coat that's hanging at the door. He scowls, loud enough for you to know. You brush it off. Ten has been loving off you so it's time he returns the favour. He signed up the friendship contract, nonverbal, and it clearly states, "always feed your best friend." You smile to the delivery man and wave goodbye.

You take steps to the carpet and put the box of pizza on the coffee table. You pull your knees near your chest, taking a warm slice of pizza to relieve your hunger. "How are things for you?" You start.

"Well, my life is cool." He replies, toneless. Your question make him pursue his lips, recalling everything he has done in life. The question is subjective yet he feels as if you're slipping through the cracks of his fingers—and he is beyond fucking scared to lose you. But he knows that's selfish of him.

"No potential lovers?" You yawn, sleepiness has been taunting you for the night. You can't afford to sleep here or you're getting fired. And Sicheng will kill you for leaving him alone dealing with impatient customers who doesn't know how to appreciate baristas that works hard to serve the best beverage. Being a barista is hard but falling in love with Ten is harder.

Ten stretch his arm, "not really, college is hectic for love. Too hectic." You could see his bruises on the legs as his jeans rolled up a bit. Dancers has them and he always said that it's fine and normal. Since dancers uses their bodies a lot, it's almost a routine for bruises to come along on the way.

"Have you ever been in love, Ten?" That caught him off guard. Not once you have asked him about love. It comes naturally to him. To him, love is something he wants to feel and share. That's the reason he chose dancing. To share people about his love for art performance by simply moving his body with the music. It's like fluid. You go wherever music takes you.

You take a deep breath. Love to you is completely selfish. You have no idea how to pursue love in any ways.

"My friends there...they're in love. They found someone to cherish romantically. They found someone to love and sometimes...I feel left out. They hang out with their partners on holidays and I can't really expect them to be free always." So you let it out. Those hidden feelings everytime you felt around your friends. You don't want to say you're desperate to be loved, rather you want someone to love.

After all, love is the reason of existence. To be a human is to feel emotions, to be hurt and to hurt, to make mistakes and be one sometimes.

Ten is silent. And you don't really mind, at all. So you continue, spilling your emotions and left no crumbs."My family keeps pestering me to find someone. You know how I am. I don't believe in love at first sight. I want a love that starts from a relationship. Trust is earned." He agrees by nodding silently. He doesn't need to say anything unless need to be.

"I wish I could live in a cottage with cats." You let out a breathless laugh, tears threatening to spill like pearl beads falling. He joins in,"oh, to live in a cottage core aesthetic," draping his arm over his forehead and clutch his chest.

"Sometimes, I wish I have someone too." You confess, looking away from him. Gazing at the stars, your cheeks flushed. You have no intention of hinting on him but hey, we live once. So fuck it.

Ten murmurs under his breath, "what if they're close?" He decides for himself. He's a grown man and Sicheng thinks—for some reason—fate holds everything and Ten thinks otherwise. As if the stars had written for him to be in love with you, then so be it. If he loves, he loves hard.

"Wha—" you don't have enough time. Ten says that a lot because he thinks you're going to drift away once again so he crashes his lips onto yours.

The kiss isn't the one you'd call a great one. However, it's the kind of kiss that would still leave butterflies in your stomach. The two of you are still new about this, he doesn't ask you to define and neither do you. The kiss sent sparks all over your body, he doesn't really know how to lead. But it's okay, kisses can wait to be perfected —with practice.

Everything is hazy and love is still unfair. Love is still a question no one could ever answer, playing with every human beings feelings. But that's okay because you can take slow steps with Ten, to define the journey. But you know he's going to be with you till the end of the world. Because he passed his awkward angsty teenage hears with you, he was there when you pulled your wisdom teeth out, he was there when you lost Thian and helped you to move on from it (hopefully the cat is fine wherever he is).

The spring ended and it's time for a new summer full of hope and sparks of potential love.

[tanyawritesstories]

Love On The Front Lines pt. 2 | Captain Rex x Reader

Here is the sequel to my Rex fic! I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. @snips-n-skyguy0501 I hope you like it, thank you again for the request. Sorry it took so long. 😊

Warnings: fluff, mentions of nudity, more fluff, peril, depictions of birth, Rex is finally happy

•••

The day had finally come. You woke up in your bedroom on Coruscant just as light was streaming in through the viewports. You begrudgingly sat up and groaned, looking down at your huge stomach. The baby had woken you up at the crack of dawn with violent kicks to your insides for the third day in a row. You were starting to get tired of it. The little one inside you wanted out, and honestly you wanted the same thing.

You got up and ate breakfast before starting to pack what little things you needed. Rex’s two week leave started today and you had to be ready to go when he touched down. He and Anakin had formulated a plan and commed you last night to discuss it. You were to meet them at the landing platform, they would come to you. Anakin had gotten you passage on one of the transport ships that carried civilians and it would take you all the way to Naboo. When there, Padme would show you to your hideaway where you would be safe and your marriage would take place. You had memorized every detail and was ready to go. You stuffed everything into a backpack and donned a large hooded cloak, pulling the hood up to hide your face. After grabbing the backpack you locked up the apartment and made for the landing dock.

You stood off on your own near a pillar, quietly observing everything and trying to blend in. You were glad the cloak hid your stomach, you weren't an uncommon face in the GAR. Maker knows what would happen if you were recognized. You had been standing for a total of 13 minutes when you spotted two figures, also wearing hooded cloaks, heading towards you. You saw the faces of Anakin and Rex and you stepped away from the pillar to meet them. Rex's eyes met yours and he smiled. You and Rex ran the last few feet and embraced each other, in the process you accidentally pushed the hood off his head. He had ditched the armor and blacks and was wearing simple civilian clothes. You shared a quick kiss and you pulled his hood back up.

"Hey Rex," you greeted. "Hey, (Y/n). You ready?" He asked. You nodded and Rex placed a hand on your stomach, "You feeling alright?" You nodded again.

"Hurry, we haven't got much time," Anakin stated. You grabbed onto Rex's arm and you both followed Anakin to the correct platform. The General took you as far as he could then pointed out the correct ship.

"That's it down there, Rex has everything you need to get on board. Senator Amidala will be waiting for you when you reach Naboo. Good luck," he bid. You both thanked him and you parted ways. Rex and you made your way to the ship.

Not far away, a small probe droid watched the entire interaction. The Separatist droid recorded everything, sending coded messages to it's leaders.

Positive identity: General Anakin Skywalker.

Positive identity: Clone Captain Rex.

Unknown subject: Female, pregnant. 

Possible link.

Rex and you entered the ship and found a place to huddle together for the journey. He put his arm around you and held you close to him. The probe droid moved undetected, slipping through the ship door just before it closed. It sent another message.

In pursuit. 

~~~~

Sunlight assaulted your eyes as you stepped out of the ship. Rex put his hand on your back and led you away from the crowd. You both scanned the people at the landing platform finally spotting a woman stood away from everyone else. She was wearing a cloak too but hers was a light purple color and decorated beautifully. That must be Senator Amidala. Rex and you walked to her. You saw her face underneath her hood as you got closer. You reached her and she put a comforting hand on you and Rex.

"Welcome, both of you," she greeted, "Captain, it's good to see you again." Rex nodded, "Likewise Senator."

Padme turned to you, "(Y/n), am I correct? It's nice to finally meet you in person." You bowed your head, "It's a pleasure Senator Amidala." She smiled, "Please, both of you may call me Padme. Come this way."

She ushered you through an alleyway and behind a building where a man was standing with a small ground transport nearby. "Captain Typho," she addressed, "Our guests are here, are we ready to depart?"

The man nodded and hopped into the driver's seat. Padme sat next to him and Rex helped you into the back. The speeder took off, traveling through the Naboo streets. The entire trip took about an hour as Captain Typho drove into the hills. The house you would be staying at was secluded but not too far away from the city, just in case something happened. Padme walked into the house with you to show you around.

It wasn't very big, but it had the essentials and was much nicer than your shared apartment. Padme showed you around and gave you her comm frequency just in case.

"I'll see you both tomorrow to make sure your ceremony clothes fit. Until then, enjoy your time together," Padme bid.

You watched and waved as she left. You and Rex walked back into the house and he immediately picked you up and spun you around. You squealed and held on until he planted you back down on the ground. Your lips met with his as soon as your feet touched the ground and you held each other tight until you needed air.

“This place is perfect,” Rex gushed, pushing the hood off your head so he could see your face, “We’re far away from the war and it's just you and me.” You pushed the hood off his head and put your arms around his neck, “I couldn’t think of anything better.” You sighed, happily in the arms of the man you loved, “I still can’t believe we’re getting married in two days.”

~~~~

The next day went by with a blur. Rex and you had to visit Padme to make sure your formal wedding clothes fit. Rex’s was perfect because the measurements were taken from his armor, whereas yours needed more tampering to accommodate your large belly. You and Rex had dinner with Padme that night and discussed details. Upon waking up the next morning you and Rex had breakfast together before being whisked away to different sides of the house.

Your dress fit perfectly. The white strapless dress wasn’t anything super fancy but it made you look beautiful. There was beadwork on the bust and navy blue ribbon on every hem, it was loose and flowy with a small train. You were also given a navy blue veil to add to the 501st colors. Rex was ready before you and the small beach that you were to be married on was secluded and beautiful. When you were finished, Padme checked in on you and told you everything was ready and that Rex was waiting.

“This is it, are you ready?” She asked. “I couldn't be more so,” you responded. Padme laid a hand on your shoulder and handed you a small bouquet of native flowers. “Good luck.”

You made your way down to the beach with Padme close behind you. You walked slowly through the sand to where Rex and another man were waiting. Rex looked so handsome. He was wearing a blue officers uniform with his awards across the chest and white accents throughout. He looked overwhelmed with emotion, a mixture of joy, pride, and all out love. You smiled at him and he smiled back the brightest you’d ever seen. You stood in front of him and Padme took your flowers so you could join hands.

“Before we start you have two guests,” she said. You were both confused as Padme set two holodisks down in a sand a few feet away, facing you. They blinked to life to show full sized holograms of Fives and Echo.

“Sorry we weren’t invited, sir, but there was no way we were going to miss your wedding,” Echo said, Fives nodding in agreement. You laughed and thanked them both, looking at Rex. He looked proud and happy that his men were here to support and celebrate with him and gave their holograms a genuine smile. “Thank you Fives, Echo. I’m glad you’re here.”

The ceremony started and you and Rex exchanged your vows, promising to love, care for, and trust each other for the rest of your lives. “I now pronounce you, Captain Rex, and you, (Y/n) (L/n), husband and wife. You may kiss.”

You and Rex found each other’s eyes, the pure joy and light to be found was enough to make the sun jealous. At the same time, Rex and you flung your arms around each other and smashed your lips together. Applause immediately erupted from Padme, Echo, and Fives, with Fives shouting: “Way to go, Captain!”

You were finally married, you and Rex were one.

Your lips parted after a while and you both stood and basked in each other’s presence. For once, truly happy, truly safe.

~~~~

Rex stood looking out the large bedroom window at the stars in the Naboo sky.  He was still shaken from the fact that he was now married to the love of his life. It was just too good to be true, whatever did he do to deserve a time like this. A time to be free from the fighting, to relax, calm down and focus on loving you rather than battle plans and the enemy’s next move. He had since changed out of his ceremony clothes and was now sporting comfortable leisure pants and had foregone the shirt. He flinched when you wormed your arms around his middle, your head resting against his back.

“How is my husband this fine night?” Oh how much Rex loved hearing that name come from your lips. “At peace,” he said, “For the first time.” You planted a kiss to his shoulder blade.

“You know what’s supposed to happen on the wedding night, don’t you?” Rex’s eyes widened, “I don’t think that’s a good idea given your current state.”

You took his arm and turned him around to face you, Rex swallowed thickly. You were wearing a sheer robe and nothing else. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Darling, your due date is in two weeks and three days, I’m not sure-”

“Relax,” you said, running your hands up and down his arms, “Kix said it’s completely safe as long as you’re gentle and we lay on our sides.”

“You discussed our sex life with Kix?” Rex asked, baffled. You giggled, “He kind of needed to know, dear, he’s a medic. Plus, he’s seen the marks you’ve left on me earlier in the pregnancy.”

Rex blushed, now his medic knew the ins and outs of what goes on between his Captain and weapons expert beneath the sheets. “C’mon Rex, it’s just one night,” you begged, taking his hands and placing them on your hips.

“Captain, you haven’t had me in five months, you must be so pent up.” Rex shuddered and felt a stirring sensation in his groin, it always got to him when you used his rank. He smirked, “Alright, get on the bed.”

~~~~

It had been three days since you and Rex were wed, and everyday since then had been spent together. Picnicking in the meadows, walking through the city, swimming in the lakes, just enjoying being married before you had to go back to the war.

“I was just thinking, we haven’t discussed baby names,” you voiced. Rex looked up from polishing his blasters, which he insisted on bringing along. “What did you have in mind?” You were about to answer when you both heard a huge splash from outside.

“That’s odd, we’re the only ones up here, and there are only little fish in that lake,” you said. Rex loaded his blasters and headed for the door that led out to the porch, you followed close behind. He couldn’t see anything outside but thought it best to check it out. “Stay here.” He opened the doors and walked out onto the porch. There were still no signs of anything, but the noise was suspicious and Rex was determined to figure it out, he had to protect his family.

He walked to the railing and looked out over the beach. Nothing. He lowered his weapons, confused. It was silent now, strangely so. In the blink of an eye, a commando droid sprung up in front of him. Rex reflexively aimed and shot the droid square in the head. The surrounding area seemed to move as several droids came out of the water and foliage, aiming their blasters and opening fire.

“Get inside!” Rex shouted.

This can’t be happening, how is this happening, thoughts ran through your head faster than the blasts being fired your way.

“Rex how did they find us?” You yelled. Rex grabbed your arm and pulled you with him into another room, firing as he ran. “I don’t know,” he said. He took a point at the door and fired back at your attackers. You backed away from the door, trying to think of some way to help. Metal arms suddenly wrapped around your neck and pulled, a droid had you. You screamed. Rex turned and fired, killing the droid. You fell to the floor with the hunk of metal, wincing in pain. 

Rex rushed to you, putting his back to the door. “Are you ok?” You saw three droids come through the door, you grabbed the blaster from the fallen droid and shot all three, stopping them in the doorway. Rex looked at the droids you just shot, then back at you.

“Sometimes I forget you’re a weapons expert.” He helped you to your feet and you took cover behind a sofa, popping up and shooting from behind it. The pain you felt from hitting the floor hadn’t gone away, your back was starting to hurt more and more. You shot down two more droids then ducked back down. You winced from the pain, increasing by the second. You felt liquid gush down your legs and you looked down to see a puddle of water at your feet.

“Oh no.”

You turned and shot another droid. “Rex!” 

He didn’t hear you.

“Rex!” You shouted over the noise of the guns.

“What is it?” He responded. You both ducked down and he looked at you. “My water just broke.” Horror spread across his face. "What do we do?" He asked. You shrugged, a bullet blasted through the sofa between you and Rex. "We need to move!"

Rex helped you up and you instantly doubled in pain, yelling out. Rex shot at more of the metal intruders as he helped you to the bedroom. You hid on the other side of the bed and Rex stayed at the door again. You pulled the comm device out of a pocket and contacted Padme.

"Hello, (Y/n)?" She answered. "Padme!" You shouted, "We need help, droids are attacking, they're after us!"

"Ok, I'm sending forces your way. Can you hold out until then?" You looked over at Rex who was backing away from the door and looking for new cover. "No, we're being overrun."

"Alright. If you can, get to the bedroom. There's a hidden entrance behind the bookshelf. It leads to an old security room. You should be safe in there until help arrives," she instructed. 

"Ok, tell them to hurry!" You turned off the comm device and screamed in pain. The contractions not letting up and only getting worse. "Rex! I have a plan!" You shouted. You crawled to the bookshelf and tried pushing it. "There's a security bunker behind this, we'll be safe until help comes!" Rex ran to you and shoved the bookshelf out of the way with ease.

"How do you know someone is coming?" He asked. "I commed Padme, she's sending help," you clutched your belly, trying not to scream. Rex picked you up and punched the open button for the blast doors. He carried you down the stairs and set you in a corner. He pushed a few buttons into the door and they closed and locked with a slam. Rex returned to where you sat panting and groaning in pain.

"Help better arrive soon, we need to get you to a doctor," He said, panicking. "You're not due for another two weeks, how-" 

"I don't know, but this baby is coming whether we like it or not," you screamed the last few words. You latched onto Rex's leg and he hissed in pain at how hard you grabbed him. Rex watched as you squirmed and screamed in pain. You came to a realization as the pain became mind numbing. Rex turned his head towards the door as he heard the droids attempting to shoot it down.

"Rex this baby is coming now," he turned back to you, "you're going to have to deliver it."

Rex was scared shitless. "Me? (Y/n), I have no idea what I'm doing, how am I going to-" 

"I've done my research and I remember what Kix told me, I can walk you through it," you panted. Rex paled and stuttered over his words. "O-ok, what do I do?" "I need to lay down with my head propped up, and you need to remove my pants and underwear."

Rex scrambled nervously to lay you down but keep your head and upper body propped up with some debris he covered with his jacket. He took off your bottom layers and put them under your butt to protect you from the dirty floor.

"Alright now what?" You screamed out and reached for his hand, Rex hesitated to give it to you because he was afraid you'd break it with how hard you squeezed his leg.

"I do the rest of the work, and you provide moral support," you laughed lightly. Rex was shocked at the fact you were able to laugh in this situation. An explosion went off outside the door. "Whatever you do make sure I do not stop breathing or pass out from hyperventilating," you added.

Rex nodded and got you to breathe with him in between screams and contractions. He encouraged you to push, all the while the explosions outside the door got bigger. You continued to scream and groan in pain as Rex waited and provided support.

"Rex, I don't think I can do this," you whined. "Yes you can, darling," he urged, "you're strong, I know you can do this, (Y/n). C'mon now push!" Rex's abilities as a leader came in handy as his words gave you strength. There was a massive burst of blaster fire and the door began creaking. "Rex.." you said, concerned. "Don't worry, they're not getting through," he assured, hoping he was right.

You kept pushing and Rex reacted to something, reaching down between your legs. "The head is through!" He said, "c'mon (Y/n) you're almost there!"

Rex removed his shirt and held it out to catch the child. You took a deep breath and pushed as hard as you could, screaming at the top of your lungs. Then the pressure and pain subsided a small amount.

"Oh my Force.." Rex breathed. The next thing you heard was a baby crying.

Rex had paled again as the newborn was covered in blood and fluids unknown to him. "Is there supposed to be this much blood?" You sat up a little, "Yes, you need to clean them off and cut the cord."

Rex held the baby as if it were transparisteel, gently wiping away the blood and other liquids. You reached into your shirt and pulled out a small knife, handing it to Rex. "The father always gets the honor of cutting the cord," you said. Rex took the knife and gently severed the connection. He wrapped the baby in his shirt and carefully handed the small bundle to you. You cradled the small life form in your arms, unwrapping the shirt a little bit. "It's a girl."

Rex sighed and slumped against the wall, relieved and happy. He crawled and sat next to you looking at the small being in your arms that you had pressed to your skin. She had stopped crying the second she was pressed against your warm body. 

"She's perfect, Rex," you voiced. Rex looked at the baby. His daughter, his creation, it was love at first sight. "She's beautiful," he said, tears welling up in his eyes, "I helped make that?" You nodded and smiled at him, "yes, we made that." You reached up and pulled Rex into a kiss. "We did it, babe."

You both were startled out of your moment when the blast doors were heard opening. Rex turned as he heard footsteps rushing down the stairs. He was about to reach for his blasters when he caught sight of who all it was.

General Skywalker stood at the bottom of the stairs with Fives and Echo by his side and the rest of Torrent Company behind them. Rex sighed in relief again. "We heard you needed rescuing," Anakin said. You peered out from behind Rex seeing the boys all standing there. Rex leaned back to show you holding the little human, Kix rushed to your side to make sure you and the baby were in good health.

"Alright men, let's give them some room until Kix says it's ok," General Skywalker ushered the men upstairs and allowed Kix to check out you and baby. "You're both perfectly healthy," he said, putting a blanket over your bottom half. "Have you decided on a name?"

You and Rex looked at each other. "I like Raina," Rex said. "Raina is beautiful," you agreed. Kix smiled at you both, "Congratulations. I'll give you a few minutes and then let the men come down if that's alright." "Sounds good, Kix. Thank you," Rex nodded. Kix went back upstairs, leaving you and Rex with your new baby girl. "C-can I hold her?" 

"Of course, you're her papa," you showed Rex how to hold Raina and he took her gently in his arms. "She's so light," he whispered. He took in the image of his daughter, staring at the little life form that he helped create and that was now his and yours to cherish and raise.

"Rex.." he looked at you, "Are you alright, honey?" You offered a warm smile. Rex now registered that he had tears streaming down his face.

"Yes, I'm just so happy. This is something I never thought I'd get," he confessed, "To be able to see and hold my daughter, to have a child. I'm just a clone, and she makes me feel like I have so much purpose now."

You took his face in your hands, wiping away his tears. "I feel more motivated to win this war knowing I'm fighting for you and her," Rex sniffed, you put your arm around him and a hand on Raina's head. Rex blinked to hold back more tears and sighed happily. "Cut was right." 

You kissed Rex on the cheek and he shuffled Raina back into your arms. You smiled, rubbing your thumb against her little cheek. You burst into a fit of giggles and Rex smirked at you. "What is it?"

"I just realized something," you said, "Raina now has millions of uncles." Rex laughed along with you, "She'll be spoiled for sure."

A chorus of footsteps came down the stairs and the bewildered men gathered around you to look at the baby. "Now don't get too close," Kix warned, "and don't be loud." Curious gazes all shone down at you and your husband. "She's so tiny," Fives voiced. "Congratulations," Echo added. "You never told us the baby was Rex's," Jesse said, eyebrow raised.

Rex glared at his brother. "We weren't sure what to do and we're sorry we lied," you admitted.

"Don't worry," Jesse said, "as far as any of us are concerned, she's still the result of the Coruscant guy." You and Rex looked confused.

"He means, your secret is safe with us," Hardcase put in. "All of us," Tup added. "Thank you all so much," you gushed. 

Fives looked to the rest of the men, "That means we're all uncles now, boys. Raina is our responsibility now too."

"You were right, love," you said to Rex. "About what?" He questioned. "She is going to be spoiled."

[unsettlingshortstories]

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Flannery O'Connor (1953)

THE GRANDMOTHER didn't want to go to Florida. She wanted to visit some of her connections in east Tennessee and she was seizing at every chance to change Bailey's mind. Bailey was the son she lived with, her only boy. He was sitting on the edge of his chair at the table, bent over the orange sports section of the Journal. "Now look here, Bailey," she said, "see here, read this," and she stood with one hand on her thin hip and the other rattling the newspaper at his bald head. "Here this fellow that calls himself The Misfit is aloose from the Federal Pen and headed toward Florida and you read here what it says he did to these people. Just you read it. I wouldn't take my children in any direction with a criminal like that aloose in it. I couldn't answer to my conscience if I did."

Bailey didn't look up from his reading so she wheeled around then and faced the children's mother, a young woman in slacks, whose face was as broad and innocent as a cabbage and was tied around with a green head-kerchief that had two points on the top like rabbit's ears. She was sitting on the sofa, feeding the baby his apricots out of a jar. "The children have been to Florida before," the old lady said. "You all ought to take them somewhere else for a change so they would see different parts of the world and be broad. They never have been to east Tennessee."

The children's mother didn't seem to hear her but the eight-year-old boy, John Wesley, a stocky child with glasses, said, "If you don't want to go to Florida, why dontcha stay at home?" He and the little girl, June Star, were reading the funny papers on the floor.

"She wouldn't stay at home to be queen for a day," June Star said without raising her yellow head.

"Yes and what would you do if this fellow, The Misfit, caught you?" the grandmother asked.

"I'd smack his face," John Wesley said.

"She wouldn't stay at home for a million bucks," June Star said. "Afraid she'd miss something. She has to go everywhere we go."

"All right, Miss," the grandmother said. "Just remember that the next time you want me to curl your hair."

June Star said her hair was naturally curly.

The next morning the grandmother was the first one in the car, ready to go. She had her big black valise that looked like the head of a hippopotamus in one corner, and underneath it she was hiding a basket with Pitty Sing, the cat, in it. She didn't intend for the cat to be left alone in the house for three days because he would miss her too much and she was afraid he might brush against one of the gas burners and accidentally asphyxiate himself. Her son, Bailey, didn't like to arrive at a motel with a cat.

She sat in the middle of the back seat with John Wesley and June Star on either side of her. Bailey and the children's mother and the baby sat in front and they left Atlanta at eight forty-five with the mileage on the car at 55890. The grandmother wrote this down because she thought it would be interesting to say how many miles they had been when they got back. It took them twenty minutes to reach the outskirts of the city.

The old lady settled herself comfortably, removing her white cotton gloves and putting them up with her purse on the shelf in front of the back window. The children's mother still had on slacks and still had her head tied up in a green kerchief, but the grandmother had on a navy blue straw sailor hat with a bunch of white violets on the brim and a navy blue dress with a small white dot in the print. Her collars and cuffs were white organdy trimmed with lace and at her neckline she had pinned a purple spray of cloth violets containing a sachet. In case of an accident, anyone seeing her dead on the highway would know at once that she was a lady.

She said she thought it was going to be a good day for driving, neither too hot nor too cold, and she cautioned Bailey that the speed limit was fifty-five miles an hour and that the patrolmen hid themselves behind billboards and small clumps of trees and sped out after you before you had a chance to slow down. She pointed out interesting details of the scenery: Stone Mountain; the blue granite that in some places came up to both sides of the highway; the brilliant red clay banks slightly streaked with purple; and the various crops that made rows of green lace-work on the ground. The trees were full of silver-white sunlight and the meanest of them sparkled. The children were reading comic magazines and their mother had gone back to sleep.

"Let's go through Georgia fast so we won't have to look at it much," John Wesley said.

"If I were a little boy," said the grandmother, "I wouldn't talk about my native state that way. Tennessee has the mountains and Georgia has the hills."

"Tennessee is just a hillbilly dumping ground," John Wesley said, "and Georgia is a lousy state too."

"You said it," June Star said.

"In my time," said the grandmother, folding her thin veined fingers, "children were more respectful of their native states and their parents and everything else. People did right then. Oh look at the cute little pickaninny!" she said and pointed to a Negro child standing in the door of a shack. "Wouldn't that make a picture, now?" she asked and they all turned and looked at the little Negro out of the back window. He waved.

"He didn't have any britches on," June Star said.

"He probably didn't have any," the grandmother explained. "Little niggers in the country don't have things like we do. If I could paint, I'd paint that picture," she said.

The children exchanged comic books.

The grandmother offered to hold the baby and the children's mother passed him over the front seat to her. She set him on her knee and bounced him and told him about the things they were passing. She rolled her eyes and screwed up her mouth and stuck her leathery thin face into his smooth bland one. Occasionally he gave her a faraway smile. They passed a large cotton field with five or six graves fenced in the middle of it, like a small island. "Look at the graveyard!" the grandmother said, pointing it out. "That was the old family burying ground. That belonged to the plantation."

"Where's the plantation?" John Wesley asked.

"Gone With the Wind," said the grandmother. "Ha. Ha."

When the children finished all the comic books they had brought, they opened the lunch and ate it. The grandmother ate a peanut butter sandwich and an olive and would not let the children throw the box and the paper napkins out the window. When there was nothing else to do they played a game by choosing a cloud and making the other two guess what shape it suggested. John Wesley took one the shape of a cow and June Star guessed a cow and John Wesley said, no, an automobile, and June Star said he didn't play fair, and they began to slap each other over the grandmother.

The grandmother said she would tell them a story if they would keep quiet. When she told a story, she rolled her eyes and waved her head and was very dramatic. She said once when she was a maiden lady she had been courted by a Mr. Edgar Atkins Teagarden from Jasper, Georgia. She said he was a very good-looking man and a gentleman and that he brought her a watermelon every Saturday afternoon with his initials cut in it, E. A. T. Well, one Saturday, she said, Mr. Teagarden brought the watermelon and there was nobody at home and he left it on the front porch and returned in his buggy to Jasper, but she never got the watermelon, she said, because a nigger boy ate it when he saw the initials, E. A. T.! This story tickled John Wesley's funny bone and he giggled and giggled but June Star didn't think it was any good. She said she wouldn't marry a man that just brought her a watermelon on Saturday. The grandmother said she would have done well to marry Mr. Teagarden because he was a gentleman and had bought Coca-Cola stock when it first came out and that he had died only a few years ago, a very wealthy man.

They stopped at The Tower for barbecued sandwiches. The Tower was a part stucco and part wood filling station and dance hall set in a clearing outside of Timothy. A fat man named Red Sammy Butts ran it and there were signs stuck here and there on the building and for miles up and down the highway saying, TRY RED SAMMY'S FAMOUS BARBECUE. NONE LIKE FAMOUS RED SAMMY'S! RED SAM! THE FAT BOY WITH THE HAPPY LAUGH. A VETERAN! RED SAMMY'S YOUR MAN!

Red Sammy was lying on the bare ground outside The Tower with his head under a truck while a gray monkey about a foot high, chained to a small chinaberry tree, chattered nearby. The monkey sprang back into the tree and got on the highest limb as soon as he saw the children jump out of the car and run toward him.

Inside, The Tower was a long dark room with a counter at one end and tables at the other and dancing space in the middle. They all sat down at a board table next to the nickelodeon and Red Sam's wife, a tall burnt-brown woman with hair and eyes lighter than her skin, came and took their order. The children's mother put a dime in the machine and played "The Tennessee Waltz," and the grandmother said that tune always made her want to dance. She asked Bailey if he would like to dance but he only glared at her. He didn't have a naturally sunny disposition like she did and trips made him nervous. The grandmother's brown eyes were very bright. She swayed her head from side to side and pretended she was dancing in her chair. June Star said play something she could tap to so the children's mother put in another dime and played a fast number and June Star stepped out onto the dance floor and did her tap routine.

"Ain't she cute?" Red Sam's wife said, leaning over the counter. "Would you like to come be my little girl?"

"No I certainly wouldn't," June Star said. "I wouldn't live in a broken-down place like this for a minion bucks!" and she ran back to the table.

"Ain't she cute?" the woman repeated, stretching her mouth politely.

"Arn't you ashamed?" hissed the grandmother.

Red Sam came in and told his wife to quit lounging on the counter and hurry up with these people's order. His khaki trousers reached just to his hip bones and his stomach hung over them like a sack of meal swaying under his shirt. He came over and sat down at a table nearby and let out a combination sigh and yodel. "You can't win," he said. "You can't win," and he wiped his sweating red face off with a gray handkerchief. "These days you don't know who to trust," he said. "Ain't that the truth?"

"People are certainly not nice like they used to be," said the grandmother.

"Two fellers come in here last week," Red Sammy said, "driving a Chrysler. It was a old beat-up car but it was a good one and these boys looked all right to me. Said they worked at the mill and you know I let them fellers charge the gas they bought? Now why did I do that?"

"Because you're a good man!" the grandmother said at once.

"Yes'm, I suppose so," Red Sam said as if he were struck with this answer.

His wife brought the orders, carrying the five plates all at once without a tray, two in each hand and one balanced on her arm. "It isn't a soul in this green world of God's that you can trust," she said. "And I don't count nobody out of that, not nobody," she repeated, looking at Red Sammy.

"Did you read about that criminal, The Misfit, that's escaped?" asked the grandmother.

"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if he didn't attact this place right here," said the woman. "If he hears about it being here,I wouldn't be none surprised to see him. If he hears it's two cent in the cash register, I wouldn't be a tall surprised if he . . ."

"That'll do," Red Sam said. "Go bring these people their Co'-Colas," and the woman went off to get the rest of the order.

"A good man is hard to find," Red Sammy said. "Every- thing is getting terrible. I remember the day you could go off and leave your screen door unlatched. Not no more."

He and the grandmother discussed better times. The old lady said that in her opinion Europe was entirely to blame for the way things were now. She said the way Europe acted you would think we were made of money and Red Sam said it was no use talking about it, she was exactly right. The children ran outside into the white sunlight and looked at the monkey in the lacy chinaberry tree. He was busy catching fleas on himself and biting each one carefully between his teeth as if it were a delicacy.

They drove off again into the hot afternoon. The grand- mother took cat naps and woke up every few minutes with her own snoring. Outside of Toombsboro she woke up and recalled an old plantation that she had visited in this neighborhood once when she was a young lady. She said the house had six white columns across the front and that there was an avenue of oaks leading up to it and two little wooden trellis arbors on either side in front where you sat down with your suitor after a stroll in the garden. She recalled exactly which road to turn off to get to it. She knew that Bailey would not be willing to lose any time looking at an old house, but the more she talked about it, the more she wanted to see it once again and find out if the little twin arbors were still standing. "There was a secret panel in this house," she said craftily, not telling the truth but wishing that she were, "and the story went that all the family silver was hidden in it when Sherman came through but it was never found . . ."

"Hey!" John Wesley said. "Let's go see it! We'll find it! We'll poke all the woodwork and find it! Who lives there? Where do you turn off at? Hey Pop, can't we turn off there?"

"We never have seen a house with a secret panel!" June Star shrieked. "Let's go to the house with the secret panel! Hey Pop, can't we go see the house with the secret panel!"

"It's not far from here, I know," the grandmother said. "It wouldn't take over twenty minutes."

Bailey was looking straight ahead. His jaw was as rigid as a horseshoe. "No," he said.

The children began to yell and scream that they wanted to see the house with the secret panel. John Wesley kicked the back of the front seat and June Star hung over her mother's shoulder and whined desperately into her ear that they never had any fun even on their vacation, that they could never do what THEY wanted to do. The baby began to scream and John Wesley kicked the back of the seat so hard that his father could feel the blows in his kidney.

"All right!" he shouted and drew the car to a stop at the side of the road. "Will you all shut up? Will you all just shut up for one second? If you don't shut up, we won't go anywhere.

"It would be very educational for them," the grandmother murmured.

"All right," Bailey said, "but get this: this is the only time we're going to stop for anything like this. This is the one and only time."

"The dirt road that you have to turn down is about a mile back," the grandmother directed. "I marked it when we passed."

"A dirt road," Bailey groaned.

After they had turned around and were headed toward the dirt road, the grandmother recalled other points about the house, the beautiful glass over the front doorway and the candle-lamp in the hall. John Wesley said that the secret panel was probably in the fireplace.

"You can't go inside this house," Bailey said. "You don't know who lives there."

"While you all talk to the people in front, I'll run around behind and get in a window," John Wesley suggested.

"We'll all stay in the car," his mother said. They turned onto the dirt road and the car raced roughly along in a swirl of pink dust. The grandmother recalled the times when there were no paved roads and thirty miles was a day's journey. The dirt road was hilly and there were sudden washes in it and sharp curves on dangerous embankments. All at once they would be on a hill, looking down over the blue tops of trees for miles around, then the next minute, they would be in a red depression with the dust-coated trees looking down on them.

"This place had better turn up in a minute," Bailey said, "or I'm going to turn around."

The road looked as if no one had traveled on it in months.

"It's not much farther," the grandmother said and just as she said it, a horrible thought came to her. The thought was so embarrassing that she turned red in the face and her eyes dilated and her feet jumped up, upsetting her valise in the corner. The instant the valise moved, the newspaper top she had over the basket under it rose with a snarl and Pitty Sing, the cat, sprang onto Bailey's shoulder.

The children were thrown to the floor and their mother, clutching the baby, was thrown out the door onto the ground; the old lady was thrown into the front seat. The car turned over once and landed right-side-up in a gulch off the side of the road. Bailey remained in the driver's seat with the cat-gray-striped with a broad white face and an orange nose-clinging to his neck like a caterpillar.

As soon as the children saw they could move their arms and legs, they scrambled out of the car, shouting, "We've had an ACCIDENT!" The grandmother was curled up under the dashboard, hoping she was injured so that Bailey's wrath would not come down on her all at once. The horrible thought she had had before the accident was that the house she had remembered so vividly was not in Georgia but in Tennessee.

Bailey removed the cat from his neck with both hands and flung it out the window against the side of a pine tree. Then he got out of the car and started looking for the children's mother. She was sitting against the side of the red gutted ditch, holding the screaming baby, but she only had a cut down her face and a broken shoulder. "We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed in a frenzy of delight.

"But nobody's killed," June Star said with disappointment as the grandmother limped out of the car, her hat still pinned to her head but the broken front brim standing up at a jaunty angle and the violet spray hanging off the side. They all sat down in the ditch, except the children, to recover from the shock. They were all shaking.

"Maybe a car will come along," said the children's mother hoarsely.

"I believe I have injured an organ," said the grandmother, pressing her side, but no one answered her. Bailey's teeth were clattering. He had on a yellow sport shirt with bright blue parrots designed in it and his face was as yellow as the l shirt. The grandmother decided that she would not mention that the house was in Tennessee.

The road was about ten feet above and they could see only the tops of the trees on the other side of it. Behind the ditch they were sitting in there were more woods, tall and dark and deep. In a few minutes they saw a car some distance away on top of a hill, coming slowly as if the occupants were watching them. The grandmother stood up and waved both arms dramatically to attract their attention. The car continued to come on slowly, disappeared around a bend and appeared again, moving even slower, on top of the hill they had gone over. It was a big black battered hearse-like automobile. There were three men in it.

It came to a stop just over them and for some minutes, the driver looked down with a steady expressionless gaze to where they were sitting, and didn't speak. Then he turned his head and muttered something to the other two and they got out. One was a fat boy in black trousers and a red sweat shirt with a silver stallion embossed on the front of it. He moved around on the right side of them and stood staring, his mouth partly open in a kind of loose grin. The other had on khaki pants and a blue striped coat and a gray hat pulled down very low, hiding most of his face. He came around slowly on the left side. Neither spoke.

The driver got out of the car and stood by the side of it, looking down at them. He was an older man than the other two. His hair was just beginning to gray and he wore silver- rimmed spectacles that gave him a scholarly look. He had a long creased face and didn't have on any shirt or undershirt. He had on blue jeans that were too tight for him and was holding a black hat and a gun. The two boys also had guns.

"We've had an ACCIDENT!" the children screamed.

The grandmother had the peculiar feeling that the bespectacled man was someone she knew. His face was as familiar to her as if she had known him au her life but she could not recall who he was. He moved away from the car and began to come down the embankment, placing his feet carefully so that he wouldn't slip. He had on tan and white shoes and no socks, and his ankles were red and thin. "Good afternoon," he said. "I see you all had you a little spill."

"We turned over twice!" said the grandmother.

"Once"," he corrected. "We seen it happen. Try their car and see will it run, Hiram," he said quietly to the boy with the gray hat.

"What you got that gun for?" John Wesley asked. "Whatcha gonna do with that gun?"

"Lady," the man said to the children's mother, "would you mind calling them children to sit down by you? Children make me nervous. I want all you all to sit down right together there where you're at."

"What are you telling US what to do for?" June Star asked.

Behind them the line of woods gaped like a dark open mouth. "Come here," said their mother.

"Look here now," Bailey began suddenly, "we're in a predicament! We're in . . ."

The grandmother shrieked. She scrambled to her feet and stood staring. "You're The Misfit!" she said. "I recognized you at once!"

"Yes'm," the man said, smiling slightly as if he were pleased in spite of himself to be known, "but it would have been better for all of you, lady, if you hadn't of reckernized me."

Bailey turned his head sharply and said something to his mother that shocked even the children. The old lady began to cry and The Misfit reddened.

"Lady," he said, "don't you get upset. Sometimes a man says things he don't mean. I don't reckon he meant to talk to you thataway."

"You wouldn't shoot a lady, would you?" the grandmother said and removed a clean handkerchief from her cuff and began to slap at her eyes with it.

The Misfit pointed the toe of his shoe into the ground and made a little hole and then covered it up again. "I would hate to have to," he said.

"Listen," the grandmother almost screamed, "I know you're a good man. You don't look a bit like you have com- mon blood. I know you must come from nice people!"

"Yes mam," he said, "finest people in the world." When he smiled he showed a row of strong white teeth. "God never made a finer woman than my mother and my daddy's heart was pure gold," he said. The boy with the red sweat shirt had come around behind them and was standing with his gun at his hip. The Misfit squatted down on the ground. "Watch them children, Bobby Lee," he said. "You know they make me nervous." He looked at the six of them huddled together in front of him and he seemed to be embarrassed as if he couldn't think of anything to say. "Ain't a cloud in the sky," he remarked, looking up at it. "Don't see no sun but don't see no cloud neither."

"Yes, it's a beautiful day," said the grandmother. "Listen," she said, "you shouldn't call yourself The Misfit because I know you're a good man at heart. I can just look at you and tell "

"Hush!" Bailey yelled. "Hush! Everybody shut up and let me handle this!" He was squatting in the position of a runner about to sprint forward but he didn't move.

"I ‘prechate that, lady," The Misfit said and drew a little circle in the ground with the butt of his gun.

"It'll take a half a hour to fix this here car," Hiram called, looking over the raised hood of it.

"Well, first you and Bobby Lee get him and that little boy to step over yonder with you," The Misfit said, pointing to Bailey and John Wesley. "The boys want to ast you some- thing," he said to Bailey. "Would you mind stepping back in them woods there with them?"

"Listen," Bailey began, "we're in a terrible predicament! Nobody realizes what this is," and his voice cracked. His eyes were as blue and intense as the parrots in his shirt and he remained perfectly still.

The grandmother reached up to adjust her hat brim as if she were going to the woods with him but it came off in her hand. She stood staring at it and after a second she let it fall on the ground. Hiram pulled Bailey up by the arm as if he were assisting an old man. John Wesley caught hold of his father's hand and Bobby Lee followed. They went off toward the woods and just as they reached the dark edge, Bailey turned and supporting himself against a gray naked pine trunk, he shouted, "I'll be back in a minute, Mamma, wait on me!"

"Come back this instant!" his mother shrilled but they all disappeared into the woods.

"Bailey Boy!" the grandmother called in a tragic voice but she found she was looking at The Misfit squatting on the ground in front of her. "I just know you're a good man," she said desperately. "You're not a bit common!"

"Nome, I ain't a good man," The Misfit said after a second as if he had considered her statement carefully, "but I ain't the worst in the world neither. My daddy said I was a different breed of dog from my brothers and sisters. 'You know,' Daddy said, 'it's some that can live their whole life out without asking about it and it's others has to know why it is, and this boy is one of the latters. He's going to be into every- thing!'" He put on his black hat and looked up suddenly and then away deep into the woods as if he were embarrassed again. "I'm sorry I don't have on a shirt before you ladies," he said, hunching his shoulders slightly. "We buried our clothes that we had on when we escaped and we're just making do until we can get better. We borrowed these from some folks we met," he explained.

"That's perfectly all right," the grandmother said. "Maybe Bailey has an extra shirt in his suitcase."

"I'll look and see terrectly," The Misfit said.

"Where are they taking him?" the children's mother screamed.

"Daddy was a card himself," The Misfit said. "You couldn't put anything over on him. He never got in trouble with the Authorities though. Just had the knack of handling them."

"You could be honest too if you'd only try," said the grandmother. "Think how wonderful it would be to settle down and live a comfortable life and not have to think about some- body chasing you all the time."

The Misfit kept scratching in the ground with the butt of his gun as if he were thinking about it. "Yes'm, somebody is always after you," he murmured.

The grandmother noticed how thin his shoulder blades were just behind-his hat because she was standing up looking down on him. "Do you ever pray?" she asked.

He shook his head. All she saw was the black hat wiggle between his shoulder blades. "Nome," he said.

There was a pistol shot from the woods, followed closely by another. Then silence. The old lady's head jerked around. She could hear the wind move through the tree tops like a long satisfied insuck of breath. "Bailey Boy!" she called.

"I was a gospel singer for a while," The Misfit said. "I been most everything. Been in the arm service, both land and sea, at home and abroad, been twict married, been an undertaker, been with the railroads, plowed Mother Earth, been in a tornado, seen a man burnt alive oncet," and he looked up at the children's mother and the little girl who were sitting close together, their faces white and their eyes glassy; "I even seen a woman flogged," he said.

"Pray, pray," the grandmother began, "pray, pray . . ."

"I never was a bad boy that I remember of," The Misfit said in an almost dreamy voice, "but somewheres along the line I done something wrong and got sent to the penitentiary. I was buried alive," and he looked up and held her attention to him by a steady stare.

"That's when you should have started to pray," she said "What did you do to get sent to the penitentiary that first time?"

"Turn to the right, it was a wall," The Misfit said, looking up again at the cloudless sky. "Turn to the left, it was a wall. Look up it was a ceiling, look down it was a floor. I forget what I done, lady. I set there and set there, trying to remember what it was I done and I ain't recalled it to this day. Oncet in a while, I would think it was coming to me, but it never come."

"Maybe they put you in by mistake," the old lady said vaguely.

"Nome," he said. "It wasn't no mistake. They had the papers on me."

"You must have stolen something," she said.

The Misfit sneered slightly. "Nobody had nothing I wanted," he said. "It was a head-doctor at the penitentiary said what I had done was kill my daddy but I known that for a lie. My daddy died in nineteen ought nineteen of the epidemic flu and I never had a thing to do with it. He was buried in the Mount Hopewell Baptist churchyard and you can go there and see for yourself."

"If you would pray," the old lady said, "Jesus would help you."

"That's right," The Misfit said.

"Well then, why don't you pray?" she asked trembling with delight suddenly.

"I don't want no hep," he said. "I'm doing all right by myself."

Bobby Lee and Hiram came ambling back from the woods. Bobby Lee was dragging a yellow shirt with bright blue parrots in it.

"Thow me that shirt, Bobby Lee," The Misfit said. The shirt came flying at him and landed on his shoulder and he put it on. The grandmother couldn't name what the shirt reminded her of. "No, lady," The Misfit said while he was buttoning it up, "I found out the crime don't matter. You can do one thing or you can do another, kill a man or take a tire off his car, because sooner or later you're going to forget what it was you done and just be punished for it."

The children's mother had begun to make heaving noises as if she couldn't get her breath. "Lady," he asked, "would you and that little girl like to step off yonder with Bobby Lee and Hiram and join your husband?"

"Yes, thank you," the mother said faintly. Her left arm dangled helplessly and she was holding the baby, who had gone to sleep, in the other. "Hep that lady up, Hiram," The Misfit said as she struggled to climb out of the ditch, "and Bobby Lee, you hold onto that little girl's hand."

"I don't want to hold hands with him," June Star said. "He reminds me of a pig."

The fat boy blushed and laughed and caught her by the arm and pulled her off into the woods after Hiram and her mother.

Alone with The Misfit, the grandmother found that she had lost her voice. There was not a cloud in the sky nor any sun. There was nothing around her but woods. She wanted to tell him that he must pray. She opened and closed her mouth several times before anything came out. Finally she found herself saying, "Jesus. Jesus," meaning, Jesus will help you, but the way she was saying it, it sounded as if she might be cursing.

"Yes'm," The Misfit said as if he agreed. "Jesus shown everything off balance. It was the same case with Him as with me except He hadn't committed any crime and they could prove I had committed one because they had the papers on me. Of course," he said, "they never shown me my papers. That's why I sign myself now. I said long ago, you get you a signature and sign everything you do and keep a copy of it. Then you'll know what you done and you can hold up the crime to the punishment and see do they match and in the end you'll have something to prove you ain't been treated right. I call myself The Misfit," he said, "because I can't make what all I done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment."

There was a piercing scream from the woods, followed closely by a pistol report. "Does it seem right to you, lady, that one is punished a heap and another ain't punished at all?"

"Jesus!" the old lady cried. "You've got good blood! I know you wouldn't shoot a lady! I know you come from nice people! Pray! Jesus, you ought not to shoot a lady. I'll give you all the money I've got!"

"Lady," The Misfit said, looking beyond her far into the woods, "there never was a body that give the undertaker a tip."

There were two more pistol reports and the grandmother raised her head like a parched old turkey hen crying for water and called, "Bailey Boy, Bailey Boy!" as if her heart would break.

"Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," The Misfit continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He shown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but thow away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can-by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness," he said and his voice had become almost a snarl.

"Maybe He didn't raise the dead," the old lady mumbled, not knowing what she was saying and feeling so dizzy that she sank down in the ditch with her legs twisted under her.

"I wasn't there so I can't say He didn't," The Misfit said. "I wisht I had of been there," he said, hitting the ground with his fist. "It ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would of known. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest. Then he put his gun down on the ground and took off his glasses and began to clean them.

Hiram and Bobby Lee returned from the woods and stood over the ditch, looking down at the grandmother who half sat and half lay in a puddle of blood with her legs crossed under her like a child's and her face smiling up at the cloudless sky.

Without his glasses, The Misfit's eyes were red-rimmed and pale and defenseless-looking. "Take her off and thow her where you shown the others," he said, picking up the cat that was rubbing itself against his leg.

"She was a talker, wasn't she?" Bobby Lee said, sliding down the ditch with a yodel.

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

"Some fun!" Bobby Lee said.

"Shut up, Bobby Lee" The Misfit said. "It's no real pleasure in life."

[idreamofdraco]

Fremione (fredxhermione) Don’t panic but I think we might have accidentally gotten married

The people are starved for some Fremione, I see. :D Why is this pairing so delightful??

“Remind me again what we’re looking for?” Sweat poured down Hermione’s face, down the neck of her shirt, leaving her so soaked she might as well have jumped in the river they’d just crossed a mile back. The humidity and her pounding heart attracted all manner of insects looking for fresh, warm blood on which to feast.

Fred blasted a mosquito the size of a Galleon with his wand, Stunning it in midair. Hermione watched it fall to the forest floor with distaste as she tripped over an exposed tree root.

Fred caught her arm, preventing her from falling. When he let go, she noticed he used his equally sweaty shirt to wipe her sweat off his hand. She rolled her eyes, her mouth opening to comment.

“You know what we’re looking for,” he said, his good humor still intact despite hours of hiking in extremely uncomfortable conditions.

Hermione still didn’t know why she’d agreed to accompany him into the Amazon rainforest. She couldn’t even remember saying yes. She’d sworn to herself in 1998 that she would never go camping again, and yet, three years later, here they were.

“Pasiflora mucronata, known to locals as maracuja de restinga. Otherwise known as a species of passion flower that is pollinated by bats.”

“Fascinating!” Fred said with a grin.

His cheerfulness only worsened Hermione’s own mood.

“What do we need it for?”

Fred hitched his pack up higher on his back, and Hermione became distracted by the freckles that dotted his shoulders. They’d been hiking for three days now, and his skin had tanned to a warm, inviting color. Hermione, too, had grown browner than she’d ever been before.

“It’s the number one ingredient in the Daydream Charms, which is our most popular product. I’ve lost touch with my supplier, so I figured I could collect the plant myself.”

“And you need me because…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred asked with a snort. “You’re a walking library. If I can count on anyone to know how to find Pasiflora mucronata and how to preserve it for the trip back to England, it’d be you.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, though she wasn’t sure she was grateful for her reputation at the moment as a butterfly the size of her head brushed right past her face. She startled, grasping Fred’s pack to keep from falling onto her bum.

He paused and turned around, a question in his eyes, but then he froze.

“Looks like we have company,” he said in a mock whisper through the side of his mouth.

Before Hermione could turn to see what had caught Fred’s eye, she and Fred were forced together, a hoop of hand-crafted rope tightening around them as four natives hesitantly emerged from the wide-leafed foliage. Both Hermione and Fred’s arms were bound at their sides as one of the natives, a young man Hermione assumed to be the leader of this group, approached cautiously.

She and Fred remained still, making themselves less threatening. The man wrapped the excess length of rope around Fred and Hermione’s bodies as quickly as he could, ensuring that they could not move a muscle. A woman and two children hovered near a tree, ready to flee at any moment.

When the man was satisfied that she and Fred were no longer a threat, he returned to his family and ushered them back into the depths of the forest, retreating in the opposite direction from which they’d arrived.

The children lingered, approaching the bound captives slowly and then laughing at them.

“Oh, ha ha,” Hermione grumbled. Her face was pressed against Fred’s chest, and his chin rested on top of her head. Her nose was beginning to itch but her hands were trapped at her sides, and she was not about to nuzzle Fred to scratch it!

At Hermione’s utterance, the children scattered, disappearing among the trees.

“Wait!” Fred called. “You forgot to untie us!”

A moment later, the children inched back, arms laden with leaves and flowers. They circled Fred and Hermione, placing leaves on their heads and tucking the flowers between the ropes and in their hair.

A shout from the forest stopped the children, and they answered back in their language before, giggling, they returned to their parents, leaving Fred and Hermione in quite the predicament.

They waited with bated breath, halfway hoping someone would have mercy on them and come back to release them. After several minutes, that hope flew away like a monstrous Amazonian butterfly.

“Don’t panic, Hermione, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married,” Fred said, his smile wide despite the situation. She couldn’t move enough to see his face, but she could feel his expression change against the top of her head.

“How can you–Fred!” Hermione gasped, wiping the humor off of Fred’s face instantly.

“What? What is it?”

“Look!” She jerked her head and twitched her nose toward the flowers trapped–as they were–between the ropes. “The flowers!”

He was quiet for three seconds before he burst into laughter, finally recognizing the white, ten-petaled blooms.

Pasiflora mucronata.

Send me a pairing and number from this list and I’ll write a drabble! 

[weirddreamsthatihave]

6.29.17

Dream #1 Zack, Tessa, one girl from my stats class, and another including myself were out late at night walking in a neighborhood and me and this one random girl who I don't know but knew in the dream kept accidentally taking the wrong streets but we kept ending up behind zack and the two other girls. Zack bought us these slightly alcohol old time-y sodas but we went into a dinner before drinking them to get food. since there were too many people inside the restaurant these two girls decided to share their table with us and we said that was cool but THEN we were laughing a lot at stuff and so the two girls decide to start yelling at US calling us drunks and stuff and people started looking and the girl from my stats class started yelling back like "we didn't even drink what's your problem we're sober?" And then the waitress came over and took OUR side. And we left. Dream #2 For some reason I was going to hang out with blake and so I like went into his room and was just playing this weird video game while waiting for my cousin to pick me up to get dinner with the family. I stayed up all night playing games by myself and Blake didn't show up and I never got a text from my cousin saying she was at the house so morning finally rolls around and I get a TON of texts from my cousin saying she's here and where are you and stuff so I'm freaking out and decide to try and leave the house and I notice that's it's like a huge mansion and in the backyard I hear like Sasha and Kaelaunie and the other church squad so I go outside and check it out, turns out I was in Sasha's house all along and my PARENTS came the next morning and when they walked outside they saw me with all of them and didn't think anything of it Dream #3 I wish I finished this dream so badly but anyways it opens on this like beach in the 1950s but it's like a huge almost sand dune looking area and people are using boards to slide down all the way from the sand into the water and for some reason the beach is segregated and people are harassing these young black boys and actually kill one of them? So the dream turns really weird in that I'm like an omnipresent entity in the dream the people from the 50s don't see me but I go back at night time and go underwater deep down into the lagoon thing and see a TON oF dead bodies like native Americans and even a nautilus and somehow I bring them all back to life and they start telling me the stories of how they ended up down there starting with the nautilus, he is a young French man who was exploring the bottom of the lagoon in the late 1800s and he showed me what it was like aboard the ship he grew up on. He started off as just a busboy but he was lonely and so the old woman who ran the program was typically really mean to other people and as a young boy he started eating his late night dinner with her while she stayed up and wrote the captains logs, flash foward to him being a young man, he is trying to win over this really pretty woman on the boat (looks like Natalie Portman) and basically the pretty woman is sort of interested in this other dude (motherfucking BUSTER BLUTH) and these two dudes start kinda beefing with each other but Natalie Portman starts to like the other young man who was the new Spider-Man white boy because he's nice and genuinely likes her instead of Buster who just wants to prestige of marrying her. Buster is wearing a tophat and monocle