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gatorbites-imagines · 3 months

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Padwan anakin x more dark side leaning reader?

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Headcanons

Featuring my boy Jon Antilles, give it up for Jon Antilles everybody.

You had both been younglings with the jedi, and later Padawans. You had been older than Anakin by the time he joined the order, meaning you were just at the cusp of getting sent off to the other corpse if you didn’t get picked as a padawan.

You had never fit in much with the Jedi. You were too emotional, too quick to anger, and your grudges knew no ends. You still had a chip on your shoulder because Yoda decided to tease you when you were very small, if that said anything about your ability to hold grudges.

You were the child of two slaves, who had served under the worst of the worst. This meant you had been surrounded by darkness and hate since you started growing in your parents’ womb. You had overheard many of the older jedi wonder if that was the reason for your emotional state.

Anakin didn’t fit in much either, having joined so late and being the so called chosen one. Because of this, you two found comfort in each other.

Anakin was so excited about being a jedi, though he also feared living up to the potential. In your eyes he just switched one slave owner for the next, as that was how it felt to you. But he was young and bright, so you didn’t wanna rain on his parade.

But just before your 13th birthday, you were taken as a padawan of one of the lesser known and vaguer Jedi of the order, Jon Antilles. He was a person who followed the will of the force and not the order, and the force led him to you.

He would later tell you that he looked into your eyes and saw the fire raring within you, unable to be quelled and as a result, making you someone who would suffer under the pressure and expectations of the order.

Saying goodbye to Anakin was hard, as you two had found yourselves as the only true friend the other had. Many feared you because of your known anger and revenge seeking tendencies, and Anakin because of the heavy burden of the prophesy.

But as two former slaves, you also both knew that the galaxy was vast, and that you had to go where the currents took you. Anakin also understood, even though he still didn’t fully understand the order, that you didn’t belong within the temple and that you needed to spread your wings.

Before you left, you pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead and gave him a bracelet made out of a thick black cord. It chafed the skin but was sturdy enough to take anything that may hit it. It was the last keepsake you had of your parents, and it had been what kept you going for all this time, and now you wanted Anakin to have it.

So, with one last goodbye, and promises whispered in the language of slaves, you left with your new Master, who told you not to call him master but instead refer to him as your teacher.

Jon Antilles had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, and had no wish to be referred to as master by someone who was once a slave.

Back at the temple Anakin would find himself crying silently and tearlessly in his room, mourning the loss of a friend, his only friend. Obi Wan would feel his grief in the force, and would go to comfort him, knowing what it is like to lose someone so dear to you.

This would most likely lead to their relationship being better in this universe, at least a little. As that one moment helped cement a deeper level of trust and understanding.

Anakin stayed with the order and became more and more skilled, a part of him waiting for the moment you two would reunite. The bracelet stayed around his wrist, though he moved it to some other part of his body to keep it hidden, and other jedi started mumbling comments about attachment.

You thrived under Antilles, as he didn’t follow the orders from the council, the order, or even the republic. He only seemed to care about where the force wanted him, and by extension you, to go.

Your teacher was a firm believer in the light, but he also saw that the dark existed, so when you for the first time grasped the dark side in a life-or-death situation, he didn’t punish you like you feared.

Using the dark side once means it’s always with you, but instead of shunning you, your teacher helps you find balance, at least to the best of your ability.

The dark side is hard to master, and maybe you never fully do. But you never give yourself too it completely, always holding a tight grasp on the light beside it, letting the two feed off of each other to keep you from going down an unforgivable path.

Your anger and grudges still persist, and there are times you end up being needlessly cruel, but you catch yourself before its too late. During these times your teachers help is necessary, until you master it on your own.

Because of the nomadic lifestyle of Antilles and you, you end up ready to go on your own much before most other Padawan. Life experiences matures a person, and Antilles trusts you to do what is right, even if he has caught you practicing lightning or sucking the life energy out of things.

So as Anakin still works hard to be a better padawan and to fit the tight mold the order places upon him, you explore the outer parts of the galaxy, running with bounty hunters and pirates alike.

One might think you would be discovered as a jedi one way or another, but thanks to your less and jedi personality, and preferences for other weapons, you are never figured out.

Your loyalty to the rules of the order are also very very loose, if not nonexistent. The many experiences you have out in the galaxy puts many things into perspective, and you make your own theories and ideas about how the force works, theories that struggle against the rules of the jedi.

During all this time, Anakin can’t seem to leave your mind. Hes always present somewhere in there, the thin thread of a bond between the two of you so skinny its barely there anymore after all this time. But every now and again, you like to give it a little tug, smiling to yourself when he tugs back.

You two meet again during one of Anakin’s missions with Obi Wan, a mission that’s taken them further away from the core than Anakin has been since he was taken in by the jedi.

It’s a mission involving a slave trader who’s somehow smuggling slaves in and out of the republic, and the two jedi were sent to check it out but not get involved, much to Anakin’s annoyance.

They end up splitting up, not wanting to be suspected, and Anakin has to wear something to cover his head to hide his Padawan braid.

In the end, Anakin finds the hideout of the Slave traders, and just as he’s about to report it back to Obi Wan, a figure swoops in and starts ransacking the place.

Anakin can only watch with shock as you tear through the slave traders, the darkness inside you purring at their spilled blood, as the light silently approves of the justice you act out. Its only after you’ve freed all the slaves and take your hood off that Anakin recognizes you.

One way or another he follows you and corners you, in the way Anakin does, eyes wide but sparkling at how much skill you had shown in there, many questions leaving him as he wants to know what you have been up too and how you got here.

Most jedi would probably have disapproved of you killing the slavers, but Anakin had never seen slavers as anyone worth living, not that he could share those thoughts with anybody.

But at some point, you end up taking the Jedi padawan back to the room you booked for the night, where you two spend the entire night talking about what’s happened since last time you met, the bond between you strengthening after so long apart.

After that, you two keep bumping into each other. You had a feeling the force was playing a role in this, and you swore you could hear it giggling in amusement a sit pushed you together with its chosen one again and again.

Whenever you were around, the mission always ended much faster, meaning Anakin could slip away and spend time with you before reporting back to Obi Wan.

During this time, the childish crush he had had on you all that time ago comes back with a vengeance. Even when he sees you use sith lightning for the first time, he can’t seem to feel anything by affection for you.

Anakin knows he should fear you, but even as your turned turn yellow for a second or two as you lean fully into the dark during a battle, he only seems able to find your beautiful.

When Anakin kisses you for the first time, neither of you truly know how to react. Anakin’s never been in a relationship, and you have never really been with anyone you truly had feelings for. But Anakin just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, even as he knows it goes against everything the order has taught him.

If he truly were to follow the order, Anakin would have to report that you had fallen, even though you still used the light as much as you did the dark. After that he would have to stay away from you, lest you corrupt him. But he just can’t, so he stays, slipping you information so you know where his next mission goes, so you “accidentally” end up with a contract on that planet.

You settle on Coruscant for a while, which means Anakin can sneak out and spend time with you away from prying eyes.

The fact that you use the dark without succumbing to it ends up helping Anakin not fall when that time comes, but for now, you just help him get a better understanding of the force and how you have come to see it as an entity.

Obi Wan regularly wonders where Anakin goes, and worries to some degree, but he does realize that Anakin always feels lighter and more at peace when he returns from his outings, so he lets him have them to himself, hoping his Padawan would tell him if there was anything he needed to know.

As a result of your status, Anakin would start to think about leaving the order someday. Maybe not soon, but maybe one day he would like to leave with you and just go where the force takes you two.

He knows it’s a romantic fantasy, but Anakin can’t help but bask in it, even if he has to do it in secret. Being your partner just brings him more peace than any meditation ever has, and Anakin never wants to let you go.

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monstersandmaw · 2 years

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Male ‘yautja inspired’ alien x gender neutral reader - Part Six (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

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Note the rating change please. 18 + only.

Content: a bit more lore, some angst, some fluff, and some wet and messy alien sex :) Wordcount: 6027

Catch up here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw, Part Five (sfw)

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The atmosphere in the camp became charged after that in a way it hadn’t been before, and you felt a little nauseous. That probably had less to do with not having eaten in hours, and more to do with the fact that Croc was staring at you as if he’d just had an epiphany of the very worst kind. Perhaps the significance of Red showing you his face went deeper than you’d first thought. Perhaps Croc had never expected him to do it, but whatever the reason, the usually jovial and lighthearted alien was behaving like someone had just walked over his grave.

Red had disappeared inside the ship again, and you couldn’t help feeling like you’d put a foot wrong in the dark somewhere, stumbling and falling and still waiting to hit the ground. It didn’t help that there was a near-constant churning in your gut anyway about the fact that only the next day you were going to have to leave, and you would probably never see either of them again.

After busying yourself with digging out the last sachet of dehydrated macaroni cheese from your pack for supper, you boiled some water on the healthy little campfire, and ate alone while the two remaining squad-mates finished preparing for the arrival of their rescue party in absolute silence. The bickering had ceased, and they stacked the boxes without making a sound. It was eerie and you truly felt like an intruder for the first time since Red had charged at you out of the trees.

With the final day looming over you on the coming dawn, you still wanted to ask them a few more questions about their home worlds and their species, and their hunt across the universe that had led them to Earth, but you weren’t sure how to broach the topic now.

Luckily, as dark fell and they joined you beside the warmth and light of the fire, they began to talk about it without prompting, and the conversation flowed quietly, if not always smoothly, while they ate their own rations.

When you’d all finished eating, Big Red leaned over and removed his mask again, and he held it out to you. In the firelight, Red’s colouring looked all the more dramatic, and his mandibles clicked at you into a shy little smile which you returned as you took the mask from him and let your fingers play absently around the smooth rim where metal met bone. Croc watched the exchange intently, looking from his friend’s face to yours and back again, and for once, Big Red’s behaviour went completely without commentary.

Over the next few hours, they showed you more clips of their capital city on Prime and of the training barracks where they’d met as younglings. You were also shown clips of their third, fallen team-mate and your heart ached for them, wishing you could have met him too.

Carefully, you asked about the kinds of things they normally ate, and even what their music was like, and they showed you a steady stream of information that began to make your head spin after a while.

You also saw what the environments of their birthplaces and the nearby cities were like, ranging from Croc’s wild, jungle home in the treetops, lush as the deepest remaining areas of the Amazon on Earth, to the vast, multi-level mega-city that formed the capital of Secundus, where most of the population of the planet lived in a sprawling metropolis that covered an entire third of the planet’s surface. Only Big Red’s traditionalist clan chose to exist out in the middle of nowhere in the harsh, gritty sands of the far-reaching deserts.

After that, he showed you the various beasts that lived in the dunes and rocky outcrops: lizards the size of elephants that spewed acid like a fire hose when threatened; winged reptiles like pterodactyls that soared on the desert thermals for miles at a time without flapping a wing; tiny, adorable, fluffy creatures that looked like hamsters but had three eyes and long beaks; a horrific, black, eldtrich-looking creature that actually turned out to be an entire colony of smaller insects all intertwined that made you want to be sick just thinking about it; and a terrifying sand worm the size of a London Underground train with a mouth like a tunnel-boring machine, but which was apparently very docile and only ate the flowers of one particular, cactus-like plant.

You could see why Croc had called Big Red’s kind ‘tough’ though. Simply to exist out there, they had to be virtually un-killable to begin with.

“Why do you think Croc has to wear so much armour normally?” Big Red grinned when you said as much. You took the opportunity to remove the mask again for the time being and hold it in your lap to give yourself a break from the relentless stream of images and information. He didn’t ask for it back. He didn’t look directly at you most of the time either, and you wondered how bad his eyesight really was, but you felt his full attention on you nonetheless.

“I just thought you were an exhibitionist, Red” you quipped back, and Croc finally cracked a wide-mawed smile. In fact, you’d only seen Croc with a single pauldron on in addition to the armoured ‘loincloth’ that they both wore, but you weren’t about to argue.

“Oh, there’s lots of stuff that wants to kill us in the jungle too,” Croc assured you with a wicked glint in his eyes, and Red groaned, apparently knowing where this was leading already. “Remember when you stayed with my clan and ate that —” he cut off into a series of clicks for a fruit that apparently didn’t have a direct translation “— and your neck and face swelled up like a weather balloon for a week?”

You didn’t mean to laugh, but it snuck out anyway, and Big Red just shook his head. “Never going to let me forget that, are you?” he muttered. “That was the last time I ever ate something that you gave me without knowing what it was first.”

Croc nearly fell off his crate from laughing as he tried to describe Red’s swollen face to you with his little mandibles poking out of it, so Red kindly helped him along by simply reaching over and shoving him in the centre of his chest.

Croc landed flat on his back in the dirt with his legs in the air, still laughing like a drain, and you felt the odd tension of the day finally pop and shatter. Still miming a head like a beach ball at you and chortling, Croc picked himself up again and resumed his seat.

Red sighed though and turned more serious again as he looked around at the silhouettes of the pine trees against the clear night sky. “Are your people sending soldiers here for us?” he asked. “Do they know we crashed?” Despite the sudden moment of jollity, he was obviously still in the mindset of ‘ship’s captain’; responsible for Croc’s safety and the integrity of his tattered mission, and he must have felt vulnerable, grounded on a strange planet with no real defences.

You shook your head. “Not yet. At least, not that they told me,” you amended, just in case. They were unlikely to send anyone — given the reams of forms you’d signed agreeing to go out alone, unsupported, with no guarantee of rescue and with every chance you might never return. Quite what the fuck you’d been thinking at the time was still a marvel to you, but it was a gamble that had paid off against all odds. They must have been rubbing their hands together with glee when an untrained linguist had signed away a comfortable life in the archives to go bushwhacking for them in search of aliens, but you weren’t ashamed to admit that the financial rewards had definitely been the deciding factor at the time.

Although Big Red relaxed a fraction, you still suspected that the two of them would continue to keep watch in shifts that night.

“They sent me first because I’m not exactly a threat to you, and they wanted to learn about you. So far, your kind has only shot when shot at first, so…” They both picked up the subtext that sending in someone non-threatening had been the plan all along, and they nodded. “You’ve managed to learn so much about us when we still know next to nothing about you. They’ll probably send a team here once I get back to investigate and salvage, but —”

“—there will be nothing to find but a crater,” Croc grinned. “Our commander will obliterate what we cannot take with us.”

Your eyes went wide at that, but it did make sense. “Fair enough. Are they still on course to get here tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Big Red said. “They will arrive around sunset.”

You intended to be well on your way by then, but the thought of leaving these two physically hurt, like something inside you was shearing off. “How many are coming for you?”

“Another team like us,” Red said. “Three. They were on their way to make a study of your southern hemisphere to look for locations that the enemy may be hiding in, but they have been diverted to collect us first.”

Croc said something to Big Red in their language, and you got the feeling they were a bit dejected.

You looked from one to the other of them for a moment. “Are you guys… in trouble?”

Red snorted. “Yes. We shamed ourselves by allowing inferior human weaponry to bring us down. Our commander… she is most displeased.”

She.

You remembered what he’d said about females, and your next question just bubbled out of you. “Red, show me what the females of your species look like?”

Croc crowed out a laugh and elbowed Red in the ribs. He then took Red’s mask from your hands and planted it straight onto your face like it was a custard pie before you could do so much as blink.

“Assho—” you began without sting, but never got to finish the insult.

A second later, the helmet sent a new signal directly to your brain, and it created the illusion of standing at the intersection of an alien building complex, or perhaps a ship, with dark walls, dim white lighting, and a shiny black floor. It took you a couple of seconds to register that you were actually also staring up at a creature that was perhaps nine or ten feet tall.

She looked more like Croc than Red, with the same greenish-brown and cream colouring and spines across her face and around her eyes, but she was… massive. She wore a solid chest plate which seemed to be composed of the same dark metal as the inside of Red’s mask, and the same kind of armoured loincloth that Big Red and Croc both wore, with additional, articulated tassets over her hips and muscular thighs. She had a high, flaring crest that was a bit like a triceratops’ where Croc’s was much smaller, and she also bore an array of wave-like spikes that rippled back over her entire skull almost like flames where Croc’s head was largely smooth save for the dark, needle-like spines. Her shiny, greenish-black ‘dreads’ were each as thick as your forearm and fell to the middle of her back.

Her skin was a mottled cream and olive green, and her mouth stretched wide with scorn as she regarded the camera that had recorded the footage, presumably worn by Big Red at the time. Around her pale throat was wrapped a kind of decorated metal gorget — something between a cuff necklace and a piece of armour — and she had wide, metal bands around her ‘dreads’ in the same, ribbed style as the neck-piece.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, and then Croc himself came into the background of the shot. It was strange to see him with two arms, and he had none of the easy, jocund swagger to which you had grown accustomed over the last couple of days. He was deferential to the female without being obsequious, and he exposed his throat to her before turning to go, presumably at whatever order she had just clicked in his direction. Her voice was deeper than either of theirs, and from what you could see of her arm and thigh muscles around her armour, she was probably strong enough and powerful enough to crush Red’s skull with one hand.

Croc left the shot, but Big Red didn’t seem in a hurry to change what he was showing you, so you sat there and let it play out.

Another male with a mottled brown and cream pattern approached her and her whole demeanour changed.

She went from almost aggressively tense to something soft and doting, and she crooned quietly as the unknown male came to a halt in front of her and bowed his head. She lowered hers to touch the crowns of their sloping skulls together. She then stroked the palm of her massive, clawed hand affectionately down his thick mane of ‘dreads’ and he shivered openly and purred. He raised his face a little and they kissed their mandibles together. You’d witnessed Croc and Red do that briefly, but this had a lingering intimacy that their exchange had not.

“That,” came Red’s voice from somewhere beyond the vision, “Is a mated pair.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

When he’d talked about a bond, you hadn’t thought too much more about it, but it was obvious that there was something tangibly different between these two.

Before you could watch any more, you began to feel a little strange from the way the mask was interacting directly with your brain, and Croc chittered something to his friend. Red crooned, and then removed the mask gently from your face to set it back over his own. “Enough for tonight,” he said quietly.

A moment later, you yawned, and Croc did the same.

Amused by the fact that the vast physical differences between your two species did not apparently extend to yawns being contagious, you both grinned, and you made to stand up. Exhaustion from the strain of a four day hike and the stress of finding their ship crashed and Croc injured, and subsequently learning more about them in two days than any human had discovered in five years, as well as using the mask for so long, all washed over you and you swayed on your feet, the world blurring.

Big Red, still seated beside the fire, caught you reflexively with a firm hand to your lower back and you looked down at him, smiling. He did not remove his hand for a long moment.

“Thanks.”

Croc clicked something at him, and he nodded in acknowledgement before turning to look up at you again. “You may sleep in my quarters again if it is more comfortable than your tent,” he said. “I’ll take first watch, but I will join you later, if I may.”

You blinked. “You’re offering me your room again and then asking if it’s ok to share it? It’s your room, Red.”

“But you may use it, and I do not have to be there.”

“No, I’d… I’d like it if you joined me when your shift on watch is done.”

Croc sighed. “Goodnight,” he said, and then added something a little sterner to Big Red, who exhaled and nodded, but otherwise didn’t reply.

With a frown at the odd, terse interaction, you went to fetch your stuff from your tent.

When you returned, Big Red rose from his little crate and said, “I will help you into the room. If you need to get out, you should be able to pull on the doors, but you might want to leave a box between them to keep them open, just in case.”

You agreed heartily, not wanting to get trapped alone in a small metal box with no way out until one of them came for you.

You stared appreciatively at his body as he hauled the metal door up and let you step through. Once you were inside, he shunted a nearby metal crate into the open maw with his foot to keep the doors from falling shut again. “It is… not too cold for you like this?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine. I can use my sleeping bag like an extra blanket. Thank you, Red. I’ll see you later.”

“I will try not to wake you,” he said, and stalked off into the night without another word.

Hours later, you woke as the blanket and sleeping bag atop you were both lifted up and Red slid in beside you. This time you felt no fear or fleeting panic on waking.

Big Red set his mask down on the floor beside the mattress with a soft clunk and pulled up the covers again. With a deep, satisfied rumble, he slotted into place around your back like you’d been made to fit together, and he pulled you close against his chest in a single tug of his left hand.

His mandibles brushed the crown of your head as he spoke quietly to you in the pitch dark. “Go back to sleep,” he murmured and adjusted the sleeping bag up around your neck to keep the warmth in.

“Why do you need to keep watch?” you asked sleepily. “What are you afraid of? Surely not humans…”

“Humans and animals may present a nuisance,” he said, “But it is the enemy we watch for.”

A frisson of fear shot through you like a bolt of electricity and you jerked your head up. It was only his quick reactions that kept him from getting headbutted in his delicate mandibles. “You mean… They’re out here?”

“They… have a habit of finding us. They enjoy the hunt.” He crooned and purred softly, and the sound of it calmed your heartbeat just a fraction. “But Croc is on watch now,£ he said with another nuzzle against your head, “And we have seen no sign of them since we got here. We will keep you safe. Go back to sleep.”

“Right,” you exhaled weakly, and tried to settle while your imagination insisted on conjuring images of that black carapace slinking between tall pine trees somewhere in the valley below or along the ridge line above the crash site, and you heard again the rabid snarl that had accompanied the footage.

Sleep was reluctant to take you that night, and you lay there a long time with Red’s steady, slightly wheezy breath fanning across your ear and the weight of his arm around your waist.

“You are troubled,” he said after the silence had stretched.

You sighed. “I… I don’t want to go tomorrow, I guess,” you mumbled, and tilted your head down a little to let your lips brush against the hard, smooth skin of his bicep beneath your cheek. He returned the gesture with a delicate touch of his mandibles against your hair. He seemed to like raking the tusks at the end of them across your scalp, though you couldn't imagine that a mouthful of hair was any fun.

His fingers splayed wide across your stomach and he rumbled a long, low-frequency moan behind you.

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“What is it?”

“I… I have grown… attached to you,” he admitted with obvious reluctance.

You smiled and something inside you ached again. “Is that what Croc was warning you about earlier?”

Big Red nodded. “Yes. He is right, but I do not… I do not wish to part with you tomorrow.”

You turned within the confines of his embrace to face him and skimmed your hand up his chest, over his textured throat, and up to his mandibles which were now flexed wide. A little line of drool caught your fingertip and you used it to skate delicately over the thin membrane between his mandibles. He let out another low-frequency rumble that you felt in your chest, and his torso heaved. He rolled completely onto his back and let you explore his face in the dark.

“Are these sensitive?” you asked as you traced your fingertip along his top right mandible, along to the wickedly sharp little tusk at the tip, testing the point with the pad of your finger until it almost broke the skin, and then down the stretching membrane to the lower one that twitched and quivered beneath your touch.

“Yes,” he gasped.

“Very?”

“Very.”

“Mmm, interesting.”

Then, still lying on your left side, facing him, you ran the fingertips of your right hand carefully up between his eyes, over all those fascinating ripples and ridges, around his deep eye sockets, and then over his elongated skull to the ridge that protected the roots of his ‘dreads’. Gingerly, knowing they were sensitive as well, you gathered a small handful of them together in your fingers and then, recalling how the mated pair had interacted, slid your hand down the entire length of the ‘braids’ from root to tip.

Red reacted beautifully.

He arched his back right off the mattress, hissed, let out a long series of rapid-fire clicks that dissolved into a gutteral growl, and then collapsed back down, panting. He gasped your name and fumbled for you with his right hand. His claws caught your thigh and you hummed as he gripped you desperately hard, as if he needed somewhere to anchor himself.

“Show me how to make you feel good, Red,” you breathed. “Show me.”

He paused, and then reached out to his other side with his left hand. A second later, the dim, blueish light of the lantern flared to life and cast his incredible body into stark relief. He shoved back the covers and kicked them off. In the small, warm, sheltered space of his quarters, you didn’t need them. He unclipped the armoured loincloth and lifted his hips enough to discard it, revealing that his body below was ridged like sections of cooling lava all the way down between his legs, with a slight mound which you took to be a sheath of some kind.

“Here,” he said, and took your hand as you sat upright on your left hip to get a better look at him, propping your weight on your left hand. He guided your touch down between his legs and you let your middle finger run around the vertical seam in his body that was growing more noticeable with each heaving breath he took.

You glanced up at his face and saw that his mandibles were opening and closing slowly, drool just beginning to stretch between the tusks as he got more worked up, and his eyes had rolled shut. You knew he could still see you though through his heat-sensing abilities. While still looking at his face, you dragged your right, middle fingertip along the line of the seam and discovered that it was puffy now, and a little slick. “Like that?” you whispered and he gasped and nodded. “You’re beautiful, Red.”

At that, he bucked again, and your finger slid a little way inside the slit. Red gave a muted bellow and you paused. Beneath your finger you felt the silky, hot walls of his inner sheath clench and contract, and then, swelling as he grew more aroused, you discovered his cock. Ridged, hard, and slick, it began to slide from the protection of the sheath, and the more you teased it, the harder and more desperate he got.

In minutes, he was shaking bodily.

His breath wheezed and rasped, the delicate membrane between his mandibles fluttering when he flexed them. His thighs trembled and his claws raked furrows into the mattress that would never be repaired. He bucked and writhed beneath your touch and then, when you pushed deeper into his sheath and ran forefinger and thumb at the same time around the very base of his cock in a teasing, mirrored motion til you gripped him there at the hot, silky root, he let out a rabid litany of growls and snarls and clicking purrs that went straight to your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” you said again and he keened, head thrown back, thin ‘dreads’ spread out in a wide fan around his head. “And so wet…”

With your left hand, you reached for his ‘dreads’ without withdrawing your right from his sheath, and ran your left hand down the closest section of ‘braids’. Again, Red roared and jerked. With the motion, his cock slipped free of his sheath and bounced against his hard abs, leaking everywhere.

Closing your hand around it again, you gripped him and worked his ridged shaft and he whimpered, curling his torso inwards a little as you swirled your thumb underneath the topmost ridge. A spurt of liquid dribbled from his tip, rolling down over your knuckles, and dripped onto his stomach. “You’re so messy, Red,” you breathed, and then another thought occurred to you. Probably a little late, you asked, “Is this… safe? I mean… given what your blood does to humans…”

He nodded. “It’s only… Only our blood that—” he cut off into another growl and series of clicks.

You tightened your grip and he moaned again, one leg kicking out idly. “Watch those claws,” you warned.

“I’m sorry. This is… It’s so… It’s so much,” he cried.

Looking down at the delicate, pinkish flesh of his swollen, slick sheath, you realised that with the kind of talons and claws his kind had, there was little chance anyone had ever done this to him before, and the sheer intimacy of the gesture struck you to the core.

When you used both hands, one to work his shaft and the other to stimulate the soft walls of his sheath, he almost sat upright. His eyes opened wide in the semi-dark and his mouth flared, and you thought he was going to come, but he didn’t. He rocked back and forth a few times, his cock leaking clear fluid everywhere, and then he slumped back down, panting. It was like you were milking him, and he seemed to love it.

Each time you ran your finger around the base of his cock, he let out a beautiful, musical clicking sound. “I wish I knew what you were saying,” you said after a while. “I wish I could understand you.”

Either he didn’t hear or didn’t want you to know, because he didn’t translate. Perhaps he couldn’t.

You’d never seen yourself as particularly talented in bed. You’d had partners before, and none of them had openly complained to your face or anything, but the way Red was responding to you in waves of incoherent ecstasy was more arousing for you than sex with a human had ever been.

“I want you, Red,” you breathed as your brain finally caught up to what your body was feeling, and your own arousal hit you in a colossal wave.

“Close,” Red said, and you eased off on the pressure on his shaft. The mess he was making had covered his lower abdomen until it glistened, and still more leaked from his sheath. He could slide right inside you, you realised, and the thought sent another white bolt of desire right through you.

You let go of him long enough to undress, with Red helping you out of your top and immediately bringing his mandibles to your bare shoulder. He moaned luxuriantly when he scraped the tips of his tusks across your skin, and you gasped when his forked tongue licked out to taste you. He manoeuvred himself behind you while you knelt, and you felt his cock slide between your legs, slick and hard and beautifully ridged.

“Ohhhh, Red,” you groaned, pitching forwards onto your hands and knees. “Oh god that’s good. Yes… Please…”

“Inside?” he asked and you nodded, reaching back to take hold of his cock and guide him. “Carefully.”

His slick, blunt tip nudged against your entrance and you tensed a little, but he shuddered and gripped you with his clawed hands, holding you still while you adjusted to just that much of him. His tip spurted a little inside you and you pushed back against him. God it felt good.

“Please Red, please…”

He slid a little further in, chittering and crooning and clicking in your ear all the while, an when he pressed you gently down to lie on your stomach, you spread your legs to give him complete access to you.

With the new angle, he adjusted your hips a little with his hands, and then sank slowly, decadently, into you, right the way to the hilt.

As one, you both let out a long groan and just stayed there, breathing steadily while you adjusted to the stretch of his gorgeous cock and he to the heat of your body. He bowed his head forwards over you and kissed a short way down your back, circling his forked tongue over your spine and raking his four, tusked mandibles across your skin until you were shivering and begging him to move.

He picked up your hips in his hands and withdrew almost to the tip before rolling deep into you in a steady, careful movement. His ridges felt delicious against your entrance with every slide in and out, and his tip caught you in just the right place at the apex of each thrust. With every stroke he increased the pace just a little, and as he loomed over you, you felt little spots of drool hit your skin and imagined his mandibles flaring wide with pleasure.

This was it. You’d never be able to have sex with a human again. It felt far too good.

When he found a rhythm that had you both grunting and gasping, he changed the angle a little and you lit up all over with a shout and a curse. “There!” you cried, scrabbling for something to hold onto with your hands as pleasure ripped through you. “Oh fuck, Red, there… like that… just like that… oh god… I’m going to come.”

Red’s rhythm stuttered a little at that, but he picked up the pace again and pounded relentlessly into you. He was quite literally holding your hips up off the mattress like you weighed nothing at all.

“Want to feel you come too, Red,” you choked. “Please…?”

“Close,” he grunted, adding a little extra force to each thrust and making stars burst across your vision in the dark. “I’m going to…” he hissed, barely able to speak around the purring and the clicking coming from his throat. “Now,” he said, and his hips drove into you one final time, right to the hilt so that his pelvis was pressed flush against you while his cock pulsed deep inside you.

With a bellow that made your ears ring, he emptied himself into you.

The convulsions that swept through him knocked you over the edge and you came too beneath him, untouched and twitching and gasping as he continued to fill you. His claws dug into your hips and he held you mercilessly in place while he came and came.

With his cock still twitching inside you and his hips still rocking against yours, he leaned forwards and closed his jaws around the back of your neck. He didn’t break the skin, but you felt his teeth dig into you as well while he held you steady beneath him and rode out the final waves of his colossal orgasm.

You’d never been so full, or felt so needed.

Eventually, Red stilled and slumped atop you, careful not to crush you. His cock was still buried inside you and you both lay there, breathing hard in the dark for a long time. Occasionally his mandibles caressed you, but mostly he just lay there, spent and holding you. When you gave a soft mewl of discomfort, he did move, withdrawing slowly and pausing when you winced a little.

The rush of come that spilled out of you when he finally withdrew all the way was the most obscene thing you’d ever experienced. To your surprise, Red trailed his fingers through it, playing with it as he pushed the flat of his thumb against your entrance, apparently fascinated by the sight of his come on your skin.

“Gonna need to clean up,” you mumbled, rolling over and gasping at the slick slide of your thighs over one another. “God, Red, you came so hard.”

You were far too leaden-legged to stagger across the room to your backpack and get out the wipes from the top section, but Red obliged and tenderly cleaned you. The process of touching you everywhere and taking care of you seemed to get him worked up all over again because when you opened your exhausted eyes while you lay on your back and he knelt between your legs, you found that his cock was hard and leaking again, though he seemed content enough to ignore it in favour of your comfort. When you expressed quiet surprise at his stamina, he twitched his mandibles into his shy smile.

“You make me like that,” he said. “I will not… I mean… if you are tired…” he added awkwardly.

“Come on me?” you whispered, and he rumbled a pleased groan.

Still kneeling like a supplicant, he took his cock in his hand and worked himself slowly to start with. The slick sounds of his pleasure filled the small room and despite your tiredness, you found yourself turned on again by the sight of him. “I can smell you,” he hissed, opening his mandibles wide. “I can taste you…”

“Come on me, Red.”

At that, he looked down at you with reverence, gasped, grunted, pitched forwards onto one hand, and then started to come all over his fingers in thick, pale spurts. He directed his release over your stomach, but a moment later his knees went out from under him with a small gasp of surprise from the force of it, and he ground his cock against you instead, all the while still coming.

Red’s second orgasm lasted just as long as the first, and seemed just as intense, but eventually he went still and he buried his face near your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin while you let your fingertips draw idle patterns over the cracks and textures of his leathery shoulders. Occasionally you stroked down the length of one of his ‘dreads’ and he would whimper and rock his hips, grinding his slick, softening cock into the hollow of your hip. The mess between you was nowhere near as much this time though, but he still used up a fair few wipes to clean you off again.

The mattress was ruined. It was partly from his destructive claws but mostly because of the mess that had spilled out of you, so when you expressed distaste at the idea of sleeping on it, he spread your sleeping bag onto the floor and lifted you onto it, one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders.

He dragged the blanket down and pulled it over himself with uncharacteristically clumsy movements, and then pulled you — sleeping bag and all — right up against his chest and began to purr like a big cat.

“You ok?” you asked, not knowing the protocol for his kind after apparently mind-blowing sex.

He nodded.

“You need anything?”

He shook his head and held you even tighter.

“You should rest,” he said thickly. His breathing evened out only a few minutes later, and it wasn’t long before you joined him in the deepest sleep you’d ever experienced.

When you woke in the morning, the lantern was still glowing dimly and Red was somehow wrapped even more determinedly around you, and you wondered how long you could get away with lying there before either Croc disturbed you or the rescue team arrived.

___

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phoeebsbuffay · 8 months

Text

Imagine “Star Wars: “special editions” songs V.

• When We Were Young.

Imagine you are friends with Anakin Skywalker since childhood. However, once you two are now grown ups following different paths, a new sentiment arises. Part I

Warnings 1: *long post*; drama; angst.

Warnings 2: alternative universe; no younglings are killed here.

Warnings 3: There’s gonna be a part 2 haha

Warnings 4: based on Adele’s two albums “21” & “25”

No minors.

***

Preface.

It is dark. Only stars and the bright two moons guide you in this deadly silence as you walk in a fast pace. Your cape hides your features, part of you accuses you of madness for letting your heart burst like this.

This is the end.

You hear steps. Quickly, you try to run. But you are stolen away and what happens next is a struggle to survival.

Funny, you’ve never thought a group of rebels would do this to you. But here you are. Do they know you at all?

“You can take my name, but you shall never have my heart”, you cry out.

You are under torture. For him, whoever he is now, you’d gladly embrace death. But this is too dramatic. Suddenly it gets cold. One metallic breathing gives away his presence.

There is someone over you, trying to steal away your breath, clearly ignoring what’s to come. You smirk.

“Where I go, he goes”, you gasp. “What I see, he sees. I know I’ll never be me without his security of his loving arms keeping me from harm.”

“…And we’ll stand. As I vowed you that day, Y/Nickname”, his voice comes softly in the back of your mind, but only you can hear.

That is how he saves you. That is how the distressed damsel is back to where she belongs: to the arms of the Black Jedi, now known as Lord Vader.

So the sky falls.

***

How it starts… (I)

You are a child, daughter of a powerful nobleman of Tatooine. But because you are a girl, you are despised by the family. Despite the rejection that would grow into you as a fear of abandonment, you take the opportunity to live life as you wish.

Hence why you come to the part of Tatooine where it’s a complete mess, where the elite rarely—if never—dares to go. This is the context that draws you to Anakin.

A poor boy who is the same age as you and, like you, are enslaved to other people’s way of living—despite the evident differences in your status. Regardless, you bump into him.

“I’m sorry!”, you say louder than you wish. “I-I didn’t mean to.”

The boy of sandy hair and tempest blue eyes stares at you with tilted head wondering why a girl in fanciful robes would be so easily startled and not acting in a self entitlement manner.

Clearly you think you are disguising, Anakin thinks to himself, rather amused.

“No need to apologize, it’s all good”, he smirks at you. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, by the way. Who are you again?”

You are presenting yourself when an older male dressed in grey robes comes at you, eyebrows lightly furrowed.

“Anakin”, he says to the boy you’ve just met. “Who is this young woman you’ve been talking to?”

You can tell he’s been disturbed by this so you are about to excuse yourself—you know when you are being a burden and, frankly, you barely wish to be somebody else’s.

As if capturing your thoughts, the older male softens to you. But before he speaks, Anakin, impulsive as he naturally inclines himself to, promptly holds your hand and says:

“You are not going anywhere, Y/N. You are my friend.”

You giggle softly, albeit embarrassed.

“Why, thank you, Mr Anakin. You are most kind.”

The other one is disconcerted about perceiving young Anakin’s inclination to possessiveness.

“I am rarely kind”, Anakin keeps the conversation, taking the opportunity to show himself. “Which means how I like you.”

You blush lightly. It’s when the older male chuckles and says:

“Well, Anakin. Arrogance is not the best way to welcome new friends”, towards you he speaks now. “Young lady, may I know by what name do you attend to and where are your parents?”

“The name is Y/N Y/LN”, you tell them nonchalantly. “My parents are too occupied to be reminded of my existence. Please sire, I ask you not to report me to them.”

“Master Qui Gon Jinn”, Anakin suddenly comes up with this new idea. “Why don’t you bring her with us? We could train together. I’m going to be a Jedi, you know.”

Delicately, the said Jedi Master explains to Anakin you have no Force: therefore you cannot join them. You don’t understand very well what’s been said, but you appreciate nonetheless the warm attitude Anakin’s been having towards you.

If, however, Master Qui-Gon Jinn attempts to prevent a deeper bond to form, his efforts have no avail. Soon, you have a better reason to make longer the escapes from that prison of yours.

Until the day Anakin is ready to leave, you two architect a plan for you to secretly join him. It’s when Obi-Wan discovers and tells Qui-Gon about it.

But the end is far from catastrophic, as you and him fear. You are now brought under the cares of Padmé Amidala, future queen of Naboo.

***

Late teenager days.

Next time you see him, you are both leaving adolescence. It’s been five years since he last saw you in Naboo, serving as the Queen’s lady-in-waiting.

Now you and Anakin are eighteen years old: a handsome man he’d turn out to be as you became a full developed beautiful woman. He is now a Knight Jedi, ready to prepare his path to become the next Master of the Jedi Order and you, the confident friend to the Queen.

For a long while you’ve been committed writing to each other, very rarely coming to see one another. But now Anakin is about to see you again for he’s been assigned to guard Queen Padmé.

And when you two finally meet…in a rainy day, to be precise, you are dressed in silvery robes, a heavy make up hiding the delicacy of your features, praying to be as discreet as possible. But you are not counting with the handsome man Anakin is now.

Your best friend, responsible for your liberty, smiles widely when acknowledging you. Indeed, how could Anakin forget you? He’s been dreaming of your sweet words, remembering when you two bonded as children…

No, Anakin kept the memories of you very alive. And now he takes delight in seeing you, although he is taken aback by your handsomeness. Noticing his admiration, though, Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“Now, now, Anakin. We are discussing here the protocols the Senate delegated us to the said mission concerning Naboo…”

Anakin has the decency to blush. But whilst his attention has diverted to the seriousness of the subject, you, however, seem to get lost at the man your childhood friend has grown into.

You cannot look away from his sandy hair, the tempest that forms in his blue eyes matching the bluntness in his speech, which makes your lips twitch in a light smirk…

Here he is, the Anakin I’ve always known…

You lower your gaze for just as this thought runs to your mind he seems to have captured it, so you spot some amusement behind his eyes that earns you some light blush.

“Very well”, you hear the Queen’s voice, thus breaking the spell his presence had put in you. “We welcome you in our retinue young Skywalker. We are very pleased to see you amongst us once again.”

“It is a pleasure as always, Your Grace”, says Anakin, gallantly—or arrogantly, judging by how some other ladies are rolling their eyes. “Duty always calls and I shall not disappoint my queen.”

“Anakin is too good with words, if you ask me”, so snorts Obi-Wan lightly. “Be careful, will you? By that I mean to say you should be mindful of your duties…”

You try to hold back your giggle. Anakin sees you and, already seeing what’s the reason for it, he cannot help another smirk. However, no one seems to notice this subtle admiration between one another—except perhaps Obi-Wan, who seems to choose to ignore what’s happening right under his nose.

This is how it begins. This is how the spark is ignited.

A few days later, he is right behind you—not only following like a puppet dog, but if he can be excused, protecting the Queen like he vowed to. Except his eyes are never far from yours.

“Tell me, Anakin. Do you dance?”, Queen Amidala asks in a tone that makes no effort in hiding her amusement.

“Uh?”, he is distracted by your beauty. Anakin soon clears his throat. “I am a warrior, a peacekeeper. Not the best dancer, my lady.”

But the queen sees what you and Anakin might not promptly see it. She side smirks, pretending to occupy herself with sewing when she says:

“Why, if I were you, I would dance to keep peace. Do you know Lady Y/N is my best lady where dance is concerned?”

Anakin’s mind is finally captured by her web. As your eyes go wide and a blush colors your cheeks, his eyes glint with amusement.

“I do not. In this case…”

“I give you my permission, yes. Don’t be shy, Lady Y/N. Go on.”

You blush violently, much to Anakin’s delight. As he takes hold of your hand, he is surprised to find you cold.

“Are you well, Y/Nickname? What’s the need of being shy to me?”

As you two begin to dance, it feels as if there’s only you in the room.

“It’s not about that, Ani. I don’t like enjoying everyone’s attention…” as you raise your eyes, you are surprised to find those blue irises staring at you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I was merely noticing… You are a woman, Y/N.”

You chuckle lightly.

“Haven’t you noticed that before?”

Anakin smiles and you feel like the sun is shining over you. He can hear you thought, so as much as this pleases him, it makes him blush. He diverts the gaze away, only for one moment.

“Let me protest that. This isn’t what I’ve meant to say.”

“Then what is?”, you giggle lightly as you look at his eyes, your bodies seemingly following the rhythm of the music without your knowledge.

“That you’ve grown fine as wine”, says he smugly, very satisfied for seeing you blush.

Today you both are in the gardens. He’s taken you to stroll all the whilst Senator Clovis is openly courting the Queen. As her favoured lady, you stand safely behind her, although she is far ahead than you and Anakin.

His arm is now tangled against yours, enjoying close proximity. You’ve been spending these joyful days speaking nonsenses, sharing jokes and perhaps something else.

Anakin can read your thoughts: he knows the depth of your feelings for him; the desires that rise without your acknowledgment, the struggle with reason that uprises your heart.

He feels the same. But somehow… He has no idea how to profess it.

Yet.

“What’s like to be a Jedi?”, you ask him, unaware of how he’s been quietly studying you. “Must be busy for I haven’t received a letter of yours for a good while.”

Smiling at your tone of accusation, Anakin says:

“Well, it does keep me occupied. I’ve been under heavy training and, if you ask my opinion,been looking forward to get a proper mission.”

You sigh, indicating your concern.

“Ani…”

“What? I was born for this and you know it”, he gently grips your arm. “There is no need to worry over me, angel. I know what I am capable of.”

You smile, sensing he might be looking for some praise. As your eyes meet again, you say:

“I know that. I’ve never had any question of your abilities, Anakin. But excuse me for worrying about my best friend”, and it’s when you whisper. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You are not going to lose me, Y/Nickname”, he whispers softly, taking your hand to his lips as he stops you so you can see he means it. In truth Anakin knows you mirror each other’s feeling. But speaking those words to you only make it better. “This I promise.”

The moment you smile, Anakin knows. And maybe the time to admit the obviousness has finally come, but not yet. The Queen summons you and Anakin. A grave look is set on her face so this means you two must set apart.

For now…

***

• “Let me photograph you in this light

In case it is the last time

That we might be exactly like we were

Before we realized”•

It’s been two years before you see him again. It drives you mad: to realize you are getting older and with such little time to see him.

You attempt to escape the questions posed by the Queen, now Senator; but there is an inevitable sadness as everytime you see husband and wife together.

You start to wonder whether wouldn’t be better to tell Anakin how you felt, for now time seems to steal him away from you.

However… Time is not that cruel to you. So before you notice, he comes to find you. Like he usually does.

“I knew I would find you here at the gardens”, his voice comes like a whisper to you, husky yes, but softly too.

When you turn abruptly, you find a matured man right before your eyes. Anakin Skywalker stands dressed in black robes, posing that same old smug pose but with a sweet smile and caring blue eyes that make you melt.

“Ani…” Your lips spread and before you know, you are running to his arms.

This time he is not letting go of you. To your surprise, as his arms involve you in a hug, his lips welcome you and…you don’t hesitate in kissing him in return.

It’s sloppy at first, marked by surprised. But as one adjusts to the other, it’s perfectly synced. Your tongue is subdued by his and you take delight at the moment.

The moment where you and Anakin are no more friends, but something far better than this. It continues so as his kiss is so alluring, as if he’s seeking the intensity there is in you. And you correspond gladly, giving him the intensity there has always been caged.

Your hands hesitantly move to his curls—they are now dropping over his shoulder, wrapping them around your finger as you share a passionate kiss. And this kiss awakes something in you, but there’s no time to discover it for he parts it from you—much to your dismay.

Seeing your emotions so clearly stamped in your face, Anakin smiles—specially aware of your sentiments.

“I had to take a breath, I had to contemplate you for a moment”, he explains to you, hands cupping your cheeks. “I missed you, Y/N.”

You lean against him, so pleased for that moment finally have happened.

“And I, you”, you rest your forehead against his, your body nearly locked to his. “What took you so long?”

It’s when you sense his heavy sigh, the subtle change in his demeanor: Anakin tries to keep it away from you, he has no wishes in updating you about politics.

The reason why both of you avoid such topic is mostly because that’s what you live everyday, so you need a break. Today is not different. But how can he avoid it?

As you hesitantly step back due to his silence, you suddenly become aware of the shadow that’s been cast at him. Very gently you place your hands to cup his face, stroking his scar as he leans against you, eyes closed.

“You know you can trust in me, Ani”, you encourage him softly. “There’s no need to keep it away from me.”

“I do not wish to have you involved in this”, says he, conflicted.

It heavies your heart to see the eclipse occurring right under your eyes. You do your best to deal with it, though. Lifting his chin, you run a hand over his hair all the whilst leaning the other over his chest. You wait until his blue eyes find your y/c ones.

“I want to be involved in this. This is not a burden for you to carry yourself, my darling.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He mumbles, still hesitant about sharing whatever troubles him with you.

“Follow your heart”, you tell him. “I’ll be here.”

As if to reassure him, you smile, aware of the sudden meaning your next words might carry:

“I’ll be here for you. No matter what.”

And that is how you seal your fate…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker smut #hayden christensen #alternative universe #darth vader x female reader #darth vader x you #darth vader x y/n #darth vader #adele

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moodymelanist · 9 months

Text

happy day 3 of @cassianappreciationweek everyone! for todays prompt I didn’t have anything ~official~ planned, but I always think about how Illyria doesn’t really have its own canonical holidays. So I started thinking about how my dad has always talked about how in the Caribbean, Boxing Day (the day after Christmas) is a holiday in its own right… and it got me thinking maybe Illyria has something like that.

anyways hope you enjoy this slice of holiday fun in the middle of the hottest summer ever ❤️‍🔥

“Girls, do you have your costumes?” Cassian yelled up the stairs. They only had a quarter of an hour before they were due for the parade, and of course their home was chaotic as usual.

“Yes, Papa!” came his older daughter Seraphina’s reply.

“We’re coming!” Nesta yelled down right after. “Nasima, let me help you with your hair.”

In Illyria, Solstice wasn’t considered one of their own holidays. Sure, Cassian loved spending time with his family and celebrating Feyre’s birthday, but it wasn’t his tradition the same way it belonged to Mor or partly Rhys. Instead, they celebrated the day after Solstice, with training being paused for the day and most of the local businesses being closed. There were parades and more than enough food, drink, and warmth to go around, with many of the younglings putting on bright clothes and painting their faces with traditional symbols of life and good luck.

It had been Cassian’s favorite holiday as a youngling himself — and he was so honored to be able to share this with his own children, probable lateness aside. Their lives in Illyria were worlds away from his own, and that was the way he liked it.

Cassian looked up at the sound of three sets of feet hurrying down the stairs, a wide grin spreading across his face at the sight of his family. “Finally.”

“I didn’t see you offering to help,” Nesta replied pointedly. She had on a thick, blue cloak and matching fur-lined leggings, her cheeks pink from all the rushing around.

“I helped plenty!” Cassian protested. “I was the timekeeper.”

“Girls, your papa is being silly again,” Nesta said, pulling giggles from their daughters.

“Papa so silly,” Nasima, their younger daughter, repeated. She was in that stage where she parroted back everything the two of them said, so Cassian had had to learn to censor himself before she picked up anything inappropriate. “Up?”

“I’ve got you, princess,” Cassian said, bending down to pick her up. Her dark hair was pulled back into two pigtails, leaving more than enough room for the bright clips and soft pins Nesta had adorned her with. “You look so festive, Nas.”

“Mama helped,” Sera informed him promptly. She was almost ten years older than Nasima, in that awkward age where she wanted to cling to her family but she didn’t want to be embarrassed about it, and Cassian knew the moment they got outside she’d make a break for her friends. “Can we go already?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go,” Cassian replied, though not before muttering some choice words in Illyrian under his breath.

Once they all made it outside, it was like stepping into an explosion of festivities. There were bright decorations dotting the path to the main campgrounds, the smell of meat on the grill was intoxicating, and someone was playing the fiddle with so much zeal it was a miracle they hadn’t snapped a string. Cassian couldn’t help his smile as the four of them made their way toward the center of it all, the sight of so many smiles reflected back at him only making his spirits soar even higher.

“Mama, Mama, can I go play with Aria?” Sera asked, spotting Azriel and Gwyn’s daughter immediately. Nesta had hardly agreed before Sera was tearing off through the crowd, her bright yellow outfit disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“She’ll be fine, my love,” Nesta told Cassian before he could even voice his worry. “You know she never takes that necklace off.”

Nesta had enchanted so many of their daughters’ jewelry items over the years with that same spell she’d used in the Rite that Cassian knew he didn’t have anything to technically worry about, but still. “I know. I just worry anyway.”

“Dare I say this is one of the places you can worry the least,” Nesta replied, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Now which way is the parade?”

Cassian spread his wings a little further than necessary to help create a path through the crowd for them, still holding Nasima securely in his arms. She didn’t really start to squirm until the familiar banners for the parade came into view, her blue eyes wide with excitement and wonder as they approached the familiar line of people. Cassian exchanged greetings with so many people he nearly lost count, and by the time they made it to the front he was more than willing to put Nasima down in the chair they were using for the face painting.

Emerie had gotten roped into doing the face painting this year, though she looked more than happy to wield the paintbrush when she saw whose face she’d be painting next. “Hello, my little warrior.”

“Say hello, Nas,” Nesta said gently.

“Hi Emwrie!” Nasima tried her best to form the syllables of Emerie’s name, but it was so adorable none of them could stomach correcting her. “Face paint!”

“That’s right, Nas,” Emerie replied, reaching for her set of paints. “What colors do you want this year?”

“Red!” Nasima yelled. Cassian, Nesta, and Emerie both managed to hold back their winces at the shrillness of her little voice. “For Papa!”

Cassian just about melted on the spot, bending down to press a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. “Thank you, zogu.”

His little bird just beamed up at him and held herself as still as she could. Emerie used red and white to decorate her brown cheeks, the three adults making their usual small talk as she worked.

“All done,” Emerie announced. She held a little mirror up to Nasima’s face, and judging by Nasima’s happy shrieks, she was a satisfied customer. “I wish I could talk more, but this line…”

“We’ll save you a seat after the parade,” Nesta promised, scooping Nasima up with practiced ease. “Bye, Emerie.”

They wished each other a happy holiday in Illyrian before Emerie called the next child over. Cassian loved hearing Nesta speak Illyrian, loved seeing how much she’d thrived in his homeland over the decades since their mating ceremony. He couldn’t help but sneak a kiss in before they started walking toward the parade.

They made it just in time to start walking with the other families. He took Nasima back from Nesta so she could sit on his shoulders, her little wings flapping with excitement every time they saw someone dressed in a bright costume. Nesta was magicking up silver flashes that wouldn’t burn for the crowd’s amusement, though Cassian suspected she was mostly doing it to hear Nasima clap her little hands together in pure joy. Even Sera managed to sneak into the parade and back to their sides, letting Nesta wrap an arm around her shoulders as they walked.

Cassian knew he thought this every year, but as they walked and danced and sang his people’s songs, he knew this was his favorite holiday yet.

#cassianappreciationweek2023 #Nessian #Cassian #nesta archeron #Cassian x nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #pro Cassian #pro Nessian #moodymelanistwrites

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bnbc · 1 year

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"Your padawan will be back in the Temple at nine!" vs "Your padawan calls me Master too"

sith Kou before and after retrieving the Emperor's holocron :3

what? this AU DOES have a plotline and I think it's time to share it. It's a bit messy (as all of my info dumps lmao) yet you can get an idea!

Cast and Lore

The Emperor (played by Saburo Arasaka)

The Evil Guy. Had been ruling the galaxy with terror and fear for ages until the day his flagman ship Michiko The Discipline was crushed into the black hole. The survivors, mostly soldiers and some officers were punished accordingly for letting the Emperor die.

Widely known as a wise man and great strategist, left a lot of relics and holocrons after his death.

The Heir (played by Yorinobu Arasaka)

The son and apprentice of the Emperor, he took his father’s place and kept it for years despite not being the strongest guy among the Sith elites. He follows the Dark Side ways, and perfectly wields his anger and hatred, yet he tries to reform the Empire, slowly, because the elites could rebel to keep the status quo.

Has an apprentice, a young zabrak named Kou, to whom he pays much less attention than to the Empire problem, sure that her fear of him is unbreakable.

The Smuggler (played by Goro Takemura)

Ex an imperial navy officer, and a witness to the Emperor's death. Managed to escape imperial justice with a help of a group of force-blind rebels. Fought on their side for a couple of years but they had more losses than wins, so, tired of pointless fights and losing friends, Goro left the Empire’s space to become a smuggler.

Bitter and disappointed, he appears to care only about money, but deep inside his chest the old secret — the truth that the Emperor was killed by his own son — still burns, asking for vengeance.

Lord Kou (sith on her way to become Darth, played by Kou Okada)

Kou started her way as a Jedi padawan; since she was a youngling she had severe problems with discipline but was strong with the Force and loyal as a dog, and her master truly believed she would make a great Jedi knight one day.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to happen: during the mission on Nar Shaddaa she followed her temptation and left the safe house. Kou got herself into trouble, her master came to save her but opened his presence in the Force to a powerful sith. Kou ended up whitnessing her master being killed, and it was her fault, at least that's what she was told by his murderer. The sith noticed her potential and took her as an apprentice. It took Kou some time to realize how “lucky” she was — her new master turned out to be the Heir, the ruler of the Empire.

Her hatred towards the Heir was strong, but her loyalty never belonged to him, so she was looking for ways to kill him and break free. She managed to break into a secret room inside his chambers and steal some powerful relic, which connected her to a Force ghost.

So Kou found an unlikely ally: another victim of the Heir, not only killed by him but attached to the relic, unable to dissolve into the Force. The ghost was eager to take revenge and promised Kou to teach her the ritual that would weaken the Heir’s connection to the Force so she would strike him easily.

The Heir was paying little attention to his apprentice business so she managed to gather all the necessities for the ritual and attacked her master. The Force ghost didn’t lie: the ritual weakened the Heir and Kou had her win over him. But what the ghost didn’t say was that this ritual would also open a way for him to possess the Heir’s body.

The moment it happened Kou knew that she committed an act of irreversible evil. She felt the presence again, the one she was used to since she was a kid and the one that disappeared the day the Emperor died.

Scared of what she’s done she fled away to hide and heal and to think what to do next. She wanted to break free but instead, she returned the biggest slave owner back to the world. And this spot in her mind that felt empty after the force ghost took a new body… she felt it all the time, her long leash, the force connection that wasn’t broken; she knew her new master could pull it any moment.

But to strike the evil she must have found his secrets and weak points, so she had to come to Korriban. She needed a ride, and she got it: the smuggler took her to Korriban, but surprisingly decided to stay and help her strike The Heir once more. Kou was ready to use her new asset, so she kept the truth of the Emperor's return away from the smuggler's ears. However, during the Emperor’s relics hunt the hidden truth was discovered, and the fragile bond that was growing between the Sith and the smuggler, got broken.

They parted their ways, but the Force had its plans for them, and after time they met again: her, with a lead for the most precious Emperor’s holocron, broken mind and some dull pain inside her soul she didn’t know how to name, and him, cooled down, reminded by his old rebel friends of who was truly responsible for the Empire injustice to force blinds citizens, and this surprisingly strong joy of seeing her again.

Partners once more, they hunted and reclaimed Saburo’s holocron, the only thing left was to study it and find a way to strike the old evil… and not lose themselves.

#cyberpunk 2077 #goro takemura #oc koulin #v x takemura #gigilpunk #otp: artificial nocturne #takemura x v #takemura #shippy everyday #takemura goro #cyberpunk oc #darth kou my beloved #star wars au #yorinobu arasaka #saburo arasaka

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ithebookhoarder · 2 years

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😜 for Obi-wan? Anything you got, the series has revived my need for Obi-wan content (LOVE your blog btw!!) <3

A/N: And now I'm blushing <3 sending love right back to you, friend. I hope you enjoy yet more crazy ramblings from me about this man.

😜: A Random Headcanon (Rebellious Obi-wan)

He was a rebellious youngling, and Padawan, given what we know about him from the books etc.

I think that’s why he bonds with Anakin so quickly, seeing himself reflected in the curious and outspoken boy.

It’s why he’s so kind, patient, and tolerant of him, knowing how his own master failed to properly encourage him and form a bond with him for a long time.

It's why he can't really judge Anakin for sneaking off and having a life beyond the order, given the fact that during his rebellious youth, he also used to sneak out of the temple.

He went to play dejarik in the lower levels of Coruscant after he was done with research and I like to think this is how he got to know so many people beyond the Jedi order, including Dex - who he often visited at the diner after an evening adventure.

Sitting at the counter of the diner, he can pretend for a moment to be someone else, and not just a Jedi.

He would still use this skill from time to time, even if he doesn't visit the same gaming halls anymore.

He likes hustling people into thinking he’s never played before, but then taking them for all they’re worth.

His creche mates, despite being fully grown, always know better than to risk playing him and chuckle fondly whenever they see him line up a new target - usually some overly confident Padawan who needs to be knocked down a peg or two. (Let's just say Anakin learned quickly never to play against him...)

Also, Obi gives me dog-lover energy and I firmly believe he would have a dog in a modern au. Even in canon, he is very friendly with animals in general.

You cannot convince me he didn’t try to smuggle animals into the temple as a kid, only for the masters to gently tell him they would be better off with a family, rather than hidden in his bunk room.

Master Yoda looked concerned but not surprised when his lesson was once interrupted by some fluffy looking creature barrelling through his class - stealing his walking stick as they went.

He was even less surprised when he then spots an out of breath baby Obi-wan quickly sprinting belong behind it.

"Stop! Tails! Come back here - no - drop that!"

Honestly, he'd probably find the whole thing hilarious, but maybe that's due to his soft spot for Kenobi... what can he say? He likes the feisty ones best. They keep him on his toes, or so he says.

Masterlist:

#obi wan star wars #ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #star wars #obi wan #obi wan x you #obi-wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #obi-wan kenobi show #anakin skywalker #qui gon jinn #yoda

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miseries-mistress · 2 years

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Hey friend! 👋 how about some starwars fluff. Maybe a date night indoors?

RELAX | OBI-WAN KENOBI

Synopsis: Tonight was a rare night dedicated to your comfort after a tiresome day that dragged on for more hours than it should have. You had tugged yourself to the fresher when your duties for the day came to a conclusion while Obi-Wan dressed the room for an indoor date, embraced with the promise of relaxation.

Warnings: female reader, fluff, purely fluff, literally nothing else but tooth-rotting fluff. W/C: 1674

Notes: it could be better, tbh, but i tried

star wars masterlist

The soft, quiet blue of the holo illuminated the otherwise dark space, with the occasional speeder flying past the window in a blur of light. Snacks of various kinds were set on the small table before the holo, along with blankets draped ceremoniously across the couch. Obi-Wan bustled around his large apartment that he was granted along with the rank of Jedi Master.

Truly, he didn't know what to do with the space, for he was only one person until you entered his life. Your entrance was reflected in his apartment by the way you organized the various belongings he owned, like the caf machine you tilted at a certain angle or even the articles of your clothing he often found lying about his after long nights spent in each other's company, without the watchful eye of the Jedi and its council.

Amongst all the secretive meetings you had with each other, nights like these that promised the rest of leisure after a tiresome day seemed to matter more than the hurried movements of blinding ecstasy you often yielded to. That's why he had set up a date of sorts…well, he's never been on a date before, so really, Obi-Wan was going off of what he thought counted as a date; watching holofilms was the closest he could get to that while basking in the rare silver of quality time.

It wasn't as if you two lacked time together; that could be farther than the truth from the way you spend your nights together in the same plush bed to well into the morning, but your schedule today didn't coincide like it usually did. Typically your schedule provided you a couple of minutes together and then maybe teaching a class of younglings with one another, but today you two were stretched across separate sides of the Temple, Obi-Wan having to sit in meeting after meeting along with a hearing that took up a decent chunk of his afternoon while you were moving from training your own padawan to supervising a class of younglings…alone, which that in its right would exhaust anybody, Jedi master or not.

Obi-Wan wanted to dedicate tonight to the promise of your well-earned relaxation while relinquishing time within the presence of each other, for it had been too long since you spent any meaningful time with each other that didn't include sleeping, waking up, or eating. More than anything, you deserved a distraction from your active life, and if he could grant you such a pleasure, he would make sure every mynute detail was perfect.

Obi-Wan took one last look around the room, ensuring everything was in place before you emerged from the shower. The sound of the water being shut off made his eyes wander to where the bedroom door was left agape, the steam slowly wafting out into the main room where Obi-Wan stood almost robotically. Gods, how he had missed you. He knew, he knew that he was apart from you less than a day, but the day had dragged on and on without an end in sight from the sleep-inducing meetings on more war, stuff Obi-Wan didn't particularly like involving himself in for the borderline of politics was not one he wants to cross.

Your head peaked out of the doorway, your curves draped in a loose fitted shirt as you stepped out into the room where Obi-Wan fussed over the blankets. You extend your signature, brushing against his to let you in, and his mental barriers give way just as he turns around, sensing your presence. You offer him a tired smile, peering around him to see what he had been leaning over to do. The room was eloquently set with the promise of tenderness. Each detail of it, from your favorite holofilm, staring back at you to a cup of warm tea, puts you in a place far beyond the stars, bringing along a sense of elation that pulls you deeper into the spiral of love.

"I wasn't sure..."" Obi-Wan sheepishly rubbed his hands together, his eyes glistening with an embarrassed gleam at your awed expression. You took a step forward, embracing him and melting into his warmth. His arms snaked under yours to pull you deeper into the hug you seemed to be longing for. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, his prickly facial hair skimming over your forehead as he pursued a kiss to your skin tenderly. The kiss might have been a simple point of contact, but its emotions convinced your heart to skip a beat and your chest to constrict with the earnestness of his feelings. There was a longing, one that made butterflies take flight in your stomach with the sincerity of his senses he was conveying to you. His lips left your skin a moment later, and his eyes gravitated to yours, sparkling under the faint blue glow of the holo. His body moves before he has time to react, and he's capturing your lips between his own, pressing every built-up desire and letting it tumble down the abyss of your heart. Your lips respond in kind, driving your passion as he leans into the temptation of your body.

It was meant to be a simple kiss to unravel the whirlwind of tension growing between you two after all the impulsive shared moments filled with unbridled lust you managed to sneak to slake your desire during the past week. And while they all provided fruitful memories, they could never truly amount to those delicate moments where the rest of the world seemed to melt away as if the Maker was granting you a distraction from your turbulent life filled with violence and sorrow. The kiss was something in between. The passion, desire, the rush of it all was there, but underneath the layers of your hearts was a timeless empathy that seemed to thaw the simplicity of craving and reveal nothing but the volume of his affections that made you go weak and dreamy.

He released your lip slowly as if savoring the last silvers of your sweetness before letting your burning lungs fill with the lost air. Your head falls to his chest as Obi-Wan's hands rub benevolent circles up and around your spine, bringing you into an acquainted state of serenity while washing away all doubts and worries gathered throughout the day.

"Better?" Obi-Wan's voice breaks through the veil of silence, and you nod before lifting your head from his chest.

"All thanks to you," you replied, offering him a gentle smile, which he returned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. You peer around him at the couch he had meticulously set up before looking back at him.

"Thank you," you softly whisper, and a faint blush dusts his cheeks as he realizes you are thanking him for the date. His head dips while his calloused hands move to rub up and down your arm.

"We can't go out for dates, so I figured this was the closest thing to it. I wasn't sure what to do, so…" Obi-Wan mumbles, clearly embarrassed by his own feelings, but you chuckle, bringing your hand to his face as you cup it, your hand resting over his ticklish golden-red hair. He leans into the touch, his eyes softening with the homely tenderness you never seemed to get used to.

"Thank you, my Obi-Wan."

Those words resounded through his head in an endless repeat, bouncing through every corner of his skull. He's sure he must look foolish with how he's gaping at you, his eloquent words stuck in his throat, floating loosely in his mind. My Obi-Wan. His chest gives an unfamiliar clenched at those words, dumbstruck by the way they lit a fire in his very essence. He was yours; heart, soul, and body, all entwined with yours in such a way that they could never be truly separated. He concealed the wide, beaming grin that threatened to break across his face, hiding his inner joy at your words.

"Now, c'mon, general, I would like to watch the movie sometime tonight." He lets you lead him to the couch as you pull the blankets over yourself. Obi-Wan is still trying to process the admiration in your tone, the gleam of truth in your eyes, and your feather-light touches that nourish his deprived spirit of the affection it craved. He thrived on it, flourished even, on the increments of the love you so graciously blessed him with. He needed nothing more now than the feeling of you in his arms, nuzzled within his taut muscles.

The movie played, the bright sounds and colors flashing over your entranced face as a gasp of surprise escaped your parted lips before the melodic sound of your laughter followed. Your body had lost all traces of trepidation, submitting fully to the desire of comfort with the taste of rest lingering in your movements. Obi-Wan happily spent the film admiring you, touching you in the purest way as if to prove that you were real.

A man such as himself should not be allowed to lose himself in your divine presence, caress your supple skin with the trace of his finger and bask in the warmth of your body, relaxed and safe within his embrace. But, as the night grew older, you two couldn't be happier trapped within your rare moment of peace as the war raged on beyond the borders of Coruscant, he could forget everything that wasn't you, and for once in his life, he was okay with that.

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sunbrightheart · 10 months

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@elucienweekofficial | day five: nature. | Chapter One: The Inner-workings Of Meddling. | Read more here.

Lucien

With smooth, controlled movements, Lucien opened the largest pocket of his leather travel bag and carefully placed the metallic container down upon his folded clothing, securing it in place to make sure it didn’t shift in its position when he winnowed.

It was intricately assorted with trinkets and nicknacks he had accumulated over the months on his travels throughout Pyrthian and the Continent, intended for an ideal gift to the princeling of Night as an apology for his extended absence.

And knowing the eccentric nature of the youngling and his interest in all things puzzling, Lucien was sure Nyx would enjoy it.

“Kit!” A gruff voice called, “It’s almost mid-morning!”

“I am quite aware of the time, General.” He responded, equally exasperated. “There is no need to fret like a mother hen.”

With a fond shake of his head, he rechecked that he had all his belongings packed within their designated pockets, proceeding to clasp the buckles and mount the bag upon his shoulder. Deft fingers retrieved a long, golden hairpin—a gift from Nuan, that also transformed into a quill when pressure was applied to the pearl at the tip—from his dresser and twisted his hair into a stylish bun.

It made for a fashionable up-do, as well as keeping his hair intact for the less than ideal winnowing conditions, even as early spring reigned upon the Human Lands.

“Kit!” Jurian hollered,

Past the threshold of his room on the second floor, down the corridor to the narrow staircase leading to the open foyer of the formerly known Nolan Manor—now called the Exiles Manor, a running joke between the exiles themselves—stood Jurian in all his barely contained, sleep deprived glory. Disheveled and donned in his usual getup, he looked about ready to command the sun to rest behind the world with the sheer force of his will.

As was the usual for Jurian, seeing as he detested the very sun that arose within the sky.

“You were supposed to meet with Feyre an hour ago.” The man stated, levelling him with an arched brow.

Lucien sniffed, feigning haughtiness, “With a male as myself assigned three, bordering on four separate jobs, I think I am allowed a bit of leeway.”

Jurian huffed out an unconvinced laugh, “You’re stalling.”

“I’m stalling.” He sighed, shoulders slumping forward in resignation.

As much as he was elated to reunite with his beloved friend and her son after having not seen them in so long, the fact stayed that he did not enjoy travelling to the Night Court. Tried to avoid visiting the place when it seemed unnecessary to do so otherwise—unless for the cause of occasionally reporting to Rhysand.

It wasn’t the court itself, or even the starlit city of Velaris. He admired the starry, picturesque landscape and the jovial atmosphere that surrounded that of its people, was fascinated with the Illyrian culture and enjoyed the flavour-inducing native delicacies of their food.

But it seemed however hard he tried to revel in such things within the moment, that he was reminded yet again that he simply did not belong.

The Nights’ High Lord was accommodating at best and patronising as worst; his Inner Circle were distrustful of him if not a bit hostile, and enjoyed taunting him for the amusement of their own as they waited for his well-crafted exterior to crack; and though she was likely the most welcoming of them all in comparison to Feyre’s chosen family, Elain avoided him as if he were contagious.

Lucien didn’t begrudge them, of course. But each time he visited, it became increasingly difficult to ignore their blatant display of arrogance.

So, the solution? He stayed away.

A calloused hand gripped his shoulder, bringing Lucien out from his reverie. He looked over to the man beside him, who was observing Lucien with a calculating gleam in his dark eyes.

“What was it that you were intending to do for the day?” Jurian asked,

“Take the little one fishing, perhaps a swim in the Sidra if the weather is agreeable.”

Jurian hummed as he rubbed an absent hand along the rough stubble lining his jaw, a troublesome smile alighting his features into the epitome of mischief. The particular expression did not bode well for Lucien, and put him immediately on edge.

“What is that look for?” Lucien demanded, an accusing finger pointing at the mans face.

“Nothing,” With a wave of his hand, as if expelling a rogue insect, Jurian dismissed him. “Now hurry along, you’ll be late otherwise.”

“Since when did you care for being on time?”

Jurian merely winked at him.

Yes, Lucien thought, as he readied himself to winnow. This, indeed, does not bode well.

Elain

Elain wiped the beading drops of precipitation clinging to the hair at her temples, most likely leaving behind a streak of soil across her forehead from her earth-sunken fingers. It was well into mid-morning, the early spring sun setting into her ever chilled bones as warmth unfurled around her like the heat of an open furnace.

She had forgone her usual gardening hat—a well thought gift given to her by none other than her now brother-in-law, Cassian—in favour of savouring the first licks of light across the Night Court. The previous winter just gone had been disastrously frigid, and though it made for the excuse of spending excessive time with her youngest sister and her family, it had Elain realising how much she missed the delectable heat of the sun rays lighting down upon her skin as it did now.

Not that many of the others seemed to mind either of the two seasons, seeing as they ever rarely got sick of the snow-misted chill permeating the air, as was the usual of the Night Court. It always seemed to be a bit colder, the darkness of the shadows altering the very weather.

Which however ridiculous, seemed to reflect Elain’s innermost feelings—particularly how stagnant she felt. So unlike the liveliness of those around her who always had something to do, meetings to attend to, people of important standing to entertain.

It reminded her yet again of how desperately lonely she was, how much she missed the company of another.

She knew she had her sisters, and in addition their mates; she had the presence of Rhysand’s extended family and their Inner Circle; she even had Nuala and Cerridwen as her beloved friends—despite their occupation as Rhysand’s handmaids and their occasional spy work for Azriel.

But in conclusion, that was about it.

They each had their own lives and assigned jobs that they all had to attend to, and Elain was merely assigned to her own devices of gardening. Or baking, or babysitting Nyx.

Which, thinking of her nephew, he was bound to be causing a fuss with his mother right about now, who as Elain knew was currently communicating via missive with some delegate of the Human Lands. Despite herself, she entertained the thought of if whether her sister was writing to Lucien, and then immediately chastised herself for thinking so even though she didn’t know why.

Absently cleaning away errant clippings and debris of the patch of pansy’s she’d been tending to, Elain tucked them away into her basket along with her sheers and trowel. Standing, she straightened the skirts of her dress that was fashioned out of a used males tunic and brushed her soiled hands against the gardening apron she wore.

Collecting her things, she mindlessly stored her belongings away into the little nook shed off to the side of the deck, and proceeded on into the kitchen through the backdoor.

Cerridwen was already there, kneading some dough upon the counter.

Elain smiled softly at her friend, then looked around seemingly noticing the absence of her sister.

“Nuala’s tending to the princeling while your sister is finishing off some paperwork.” Cerri answered, before she could even ask. “Also, her High Lady told me to inform you that she will be leaving for her studio soon to deal with some matters.”

“Of course,” She murmured, squashing the oily sensation of shame that crept its way through her chest. “I’ll just go freshen up a bit, I think.”

She left but not before extending the offer to Cerridwen should she need any assistance, moving out from the kitchen and up the stairs to her room with the intention of the washing off the grime that had collected during her time outside.

Perhaps a cool bath would do, Elain thought.

Walking past Feyre’s painting studio, she couldn’t help but peer through the door to check on her sister. All manners of equipment lay strewn throughout the room, hazardously scattered amongst any piece of furniture it sought purchase.

Brushes lining easels, canvases upon tins of paint. It was all very chaotic—very Feyre.

As if in a summons to her thoughts, her youngest sister turned her head up at her presence and smiled brightly. She was wearing midnight blue coveralls and underneath a white tunic splattered with all sorts of coloured paints.

“Come in,” Feyre insisted,

Patting the vacant spot next to her at her work table, Elain ambled over and sat down beside her sister. There was ink and a quill laid on the space, along with errant pieces of parchment indicating that she was still very much busy.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Elain said apologetically, casting a smile over at her sister. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and if there was anything I could help you with?”

Feyre shook her head, waving an errant hand. “I’m not busy, I was just finishing off some last minute missives before I headed over to the studio. Which if you weren’t doing anything, you’re more than welcome to join me, if you wish?”

From the way her sister was smiling at her, Elain thought that there was perhaps other ulterior motives behind them merely visiting the Rainbow’s artist quarter. Storing her speculations away in the recesses of her mind, she agreed to accompany Feyre after bathing and changing quickly.

Elain just hoped that freshening up wouldn’t be attempting to do so in vain, only to be swept up in the firing line of paints, water or any other substances that would likely require her to shower again.

#࿓ brightheart.#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elucienweek2023 #prompt: nature

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potatoman-taterdude · 1 year

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Darth Vader. This is Neeks’ and Austin's pick. As Nico says in tSatS, “Imagine Darth Vader removing his helmet over dinner and then staring longingly into your eyes over the table. Now that is romance.” Darth Vader turned into a Sith Master in hopes to protect his wife from death. He killed all the younglings (baby Jedi) and betrayed his best friend (and ends up killing his wife. Irony!). He ended up turning back to the Light Side and killing his Sith Master to protect his son. (Extra points for being a good dad! Of course that is debatable.) I think that he's an okay villain, the original Star Wars badass.

Kylo Ren. This is the main contender against Darth Vader in tSatS, but who knows what it'll be like on tumblr. This is Kayla's top pick. First an angsty teen manipulated by the very same Sith Master which influenced Vader, he turns back to the Light Side only after killing his father and falling in love with one of the MCs. I personally think Kylo is the only good character in the sequels, plus I love Adam Driver. I’d probably vote for him, plus I think Kayla's pretty awesome so I just kinda want to agree with her no matter what I think.

General Grievous. I don't know his full story, but I think he's one of the most badass and hilarious villains in Star Wars. He's plagued with a terrible cough! He used to be a human, but he turned almost every part of him robot except his heart and eyes. Will mentions him as a rarer character (and Nico doesn't even know who he is) but supports his boyfriend’s decision on Darth Vader. I think General Grievous is probably the most unique villain.

I was going to add Dryden Vos as well, just because Will mentions him, but I don't really know his back story, plus he's from the Solo: A Star Wars Story movie and I don't think that movie should even be associated with the Star Wars franchise it sucks so bad. I will have this quiz open a week, so be sure to spread it around! I want to hear what all you guys have to say.

I don't take credit for any characters and am not trying to take any rights.

All characters from the Sun and the Star belong to Uncle Rick and Mark Oshiro (All credit belongs to Mark Oshiro and Rick Riordan). All characters from the Star Wars franchise belong to Lucasfilm and Disney (All credit belongs to George Lucas and his affiliates).

P.S. the photos I just found online and I'm not taking credit. They belong to... whoever took them? Credit to photographers I guess.

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triscribeaucollection · 1 year

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Divided by Deception, But Together We Must Rise

( Posted here on AO3, latest in my What-If AU series. Because I clearly don’t have enough time travel fics yet... )

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino. Vaguely. The white walls, at least, and the deep, muffled roar of rain coming down hard on the windows. Sometimes a half-there sense of needing to do better, be better, or else something terrible would happen; but whenever that feeling swells, he just needs to find a Jedi and it washes away again, cold water replaced by warm light. It never really matters which Jedi, either, just- someone wrapped in the Force, who can spread it out a little, with a soft smile and an easy touch.

The Knights rotate every couple of months, some going out into the galaxy to help people, others coming back to rest and center themselves once more. There are a few older Masters who don’t actually leave the planet, but move between the three Holdfasts where Cody and all his siblings live. More Jedi live at the Temple of Peace, up on top of the mountain, including the actual Force-sensitive younglings and Initiates - batches of them come down a couple times each tenday, to play with friends or train on the Holdfast obstacle courses.

When Cody and the rest of the clones finish growing up, it’ll be their job to protect the Temple, and all the Jedi inside it. On Kamino, they were supposed to become soldiers, trained for war and battle. Here, instead, they’re learning diplomacy and negotiation as well as combat, so that they won’t just serve the Jedi but truly work with them.

It could have been quite different, some of the Masters say, if we had not found you when we did.

---

When a Jedi dies, there is a ripple in the Force. A mark of their passing.

When thousands of Jedi die within moments of each other, betrayed and horrified and so many of them crying out, those ripples become a tidal wave.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Two unknown Jedi meet, and warm to each other in a moment, cheered by the future echoes of the friendship that is to come. A Knight discovers a youngling, and there is joy, comfort, a Padawan bond not yet made announcing its presence.

Time is linear. The Force is not. Death, pain, misery - these things linger in place, the Dark Side refusing to let go, instilling cold and wariness in all who tread the same spot years later. Anger leaves a stain; deadly rage even more-so.

Time is linear. The Force is not.

---

None of the clones are more than three years old when nearly two hundred Jedi Knights and Masters descend upon Kamino. They don’t stay long enough to turn four.

---

There are stirrings of discontent in the Senate, whispers of secession. Politicians focus on their spheres of influence, either to further fan those flames or put them out, intent upon the future of the Republic.

No one notices the Jedi Temple slowly quieting.

By the time they do, by the point that enough calls fail to be answered that a Senator visits in person, the entire Order is gone. From the oldest Master to the youngest crecheling; the refectories and training halls, the numerous gardens and the vast Archives, the Healing Halls and private quarters; all gone. All empty. Equipment moved, vegetation potted and carried off, personal belongings vanished. Not a single Jedi remains, nor any clue as to where they went.

Newly-elected Supreme Chancellor Palpatine dies mere days later.

Two shocks, back to back, and of course the conspiracy theories immediately take flight. Could the Jedi have prevented the assassination, if they’d still been on Coruscant? Had they left because they foresaw the Chancellor’s demise, and wished to avoid the political nightmare that arose afterward? Were they perhaps involved in the freak speeder collision that resulted in his gruesome death?

No one knows for certain. But that hardly keeps them from gossiping all hours of the day, at least until the next scandal: Mas Amedda caught trying to blackmail votes for his ascension to Chancellor, and another Senator revealed to be bribing her way into power, raising hue and cry from all factions of government. Some planetary systems take the opportunity to announce their secession from the Republic entirely, several corporate entities all too happy to support them, and Coruscant becomes an even bigger mess than usual.

---

Elsewhere in the galaxy, ten thousand Jedi and one million clones settle upon their new home. An old Temple restored, new Holdfasts built around it. A few mercenaries who were meant to be combat trainers accompany them; other instructors are found through careful searching, sentients who enjoy putting together lessons on mathematics, reading comprehension, art and science and music.

The Jedi are never completely without friends, after all. And many of those friends, relieved to be allowed to know of the Order’s relocation, are all too happy to provide whatever help they can for the move, as well as what comes after.

---

“Hi, Obi-wan!” Cody drops from the climbing wall and lands in a roll, popping back up with a wide grin. “Oh- and hello, Senator.”

“Just Bail is fine, Cody,” the Alderaani man chuckles. “I’m hardly on duty at the moment, after all. How high up were you, just now?”

“Only a few meters, before I dropped. But I was coming back down! You should’ve seen me all the way at the top, a minute ago.”

Obi-wan hums, glancing up towards the bells situated at the highest point of the wall, even as another cadet reaches them and rings one gleefully. “Very impressive. I wonder, though, if you might be willing to take a break and provide us with some assistance?”

Automatically, Cody straightens up and lifts his chin. “Of course!”

It turns out not to be too terribly impressive - not a mission, or anything dangerous. Senator Bail needs to speak to Master Windu about an ongoing project, but none of the Jedi up at the Temple knew for certain where he’d gone, besides ‘down to Holdfast-One’. Still, Cody gets to put his command skills to work, nabbing all the nearest groups of brothers and directing them to spread out in a search grid. Soon enough a trio comes racing back, eager to report they found Windu, asleep with half a dozen of the littlest cadets in the lower garden.

Obi-wan and Bail aren’t all that willing to wake the older Jedi up, insisting they can wait for him to emerge on his own. So, instead, Cody does his level best to coax them into joining him and his batchmates for a round on the obstacle course. It turns into a hilarious afternoon, Obi-wan setting aside some of his natural grace to try and help Bail along the rolling-logs, only for both of them to slip and fall in the mud underneath. Fox laughs himself silly, so of course Cody trips him into the same pit, only for Wolffe to shout and tackle Cody, and then Ponds jumps in and it all turns to chaos in seconds.

When Master Windu eventually turns up with a toddler still dozing on his shoulder, he does not look impressed by thirty-odd cadets and half as many Jedi Initiates absolutely covered in mud, Bail and Obi-wan standing right in the middle with perfectly serene expressions on their faces.

But then Master Windu looks straight at Cody, and says calmly, “I do hope you were able to shove a handful of mud down Master Kenobi’s tunics, cadet,” and everything explodes a second time.

---

If he thinks hard, Cody can remember Kamino.

He doesn’t bother very often.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #commander cody #time travel #fan fiction #obi-wan kenobi #bail organa #mace windu #canon divergence

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celinamarniss · 1 year

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The chapter continues...

(previously on)

“Oh, I’m sorry, little friend,” Luke said. “We didn’t forget about you.” When he crouched down the child reached out a hand to poke at his face. “Where did you come from, huh?”

“I was tasked to return this little one to his people,” Din said. “The Jedi.”

Luke looked up, his eyes startlingly blue. “The Jedi?”

“Yeah. He has strange powers—I don’t understand them. I was told that he belonged with the Jedi, so I’ve been trying to find them.” Until the moment that Mara had magicked her weapon right off his belt, Din wasn’t entirely sure whether all the Jedi were the same species as the child or not. “Are you one of the Jedi, too?”

Luke chuckled as if Din had made a joke. “I’m a Jedi too. The Jedi who trained me reminds me of this youngling, actually. He was a great master of the Force.” The child blinked up at him and cooed.

Luke looked back up at Din. “The Jedi have ways of talking to each other, mind to mind. Would you mind if I spoke to your child this way?”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It shouldn’t be. I won’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.” Luke smiled that disarming smile again and settled on the floor, his legs crossed, hands resting lightly on his knees. The child mirrored him, his ears tipping from side to side as he wiggled into position. Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The child did the same.

Quiet fell in the Razor Crest hold, only the soft hum of electronics filling the silence. Din wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Moments passed. The sound of leather and armor rubbing against each other when he shifted into a more comfortable position leaning against the wall of the hold, made him wince. It didn’t disturb the two motionless figures on the floor, and silence settled through the ship once more.

The sound of the fresher door clicking open and sliding aside broke the quiet. A hand braced against the doorframe, Mara stepped out of the fresher. She looked down at her husband, still communing silently with the child, and then back up at Din. The color had returned to her face and she looked better than she had when she’d fled into the fresher.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe and met his gaze. “Mando. That’s not really your name.”

“It’s not,” Din agreed, and when he declined to offer any further information, she didn’t press him. Jedi could read minds, couldn’t they? That’s what the rumors always said. Mind benders, who could pluck a thought right out of your head. The thought made him half-wish he hadn’t brought them aboard his ship in the first place.

“Who put the bounty on my head?” she asked. It wasn’t the question Din had expected, but perhaps he should have, given what her husband had said while Mara was unconscious.

Speaking of her husband—Din found himself looking over to where the two figures sat on the floor. Neither Luke or the child seemed disturbed by the conversation going on in the hold; both remained perfectly still, their eyes closed to the world around them.

“They’re fine,” Mara said, following his gaze. “They can’t hear us.”

“Do you know that because of your…Jedi powers?”

Mara snorted. “Sure.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Mara sighed and tilted her head back at the pair. “If anything was wrong, I think we’d both know it. But Luke knows what he’s doing.” The corner of her mouth curled up. “And he’s just thrilled to meet a Force-sensitive kid.”

Din wasn’t sure what that meant. “Okay.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “Who put the bounty on my head?”

Din realized that sometime in the last hour he’d already decided not to cash in her puck, even if he wasn’t quite sure what he thought about the Jedi.

“The bounty was posted by Geefa Tarks.”

“Crimson Dawn.” She snorted. “They’ll pay for that.”

Her response was so mater-of-fact that Din just stared at her for a long moment. The Crimson Dawn had declined dramatically since the height of its power in the late days of the Empire, but the syndicate was still known for its viciousness, even as diminished and fragmented as it was now. Din tried to avoid pissing off anyone who had Crimson Dawn ties. That Mara seemed to think she could take on the a member of that syndicate had Din once again reassessing the puck’s insistence that his target was so dangerous that a direct approach was strongly discouraged.

Either that or the Jedi were crazier than he’d thought.

“Alright,” he finally managed.

#six sentence sunday #wip #din x luke x mara

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dd122004dd · 2 years

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The Not-so-Terrifying Eldritch Terror

Well, we’re writing a fic about the second eldritch terror, the uninvited. And the reader is a hedge-witch who was wandering the forests alone. She’s a witch of herbs and healing but she also specializes in poisons, so hence she was always excluded from the coven.

So, the reader is at Hilda’s wedding and she proposes that instead of crashing other people’s parties, why not build his own home? The terror should build a place to belong or he can take shelter in her home.

And they relate to each other, because they were forever un-welcomed and now they have each other and it’s really fluffy.

Also, since she’s a witch of herbs and healing, she like yk cleans him up and heals his wounds. I mean, the man’s legs must be sore and blistered from wandering the cosmos for all of eternity.

Also, he’d totally rip the hearts out of anyone who hurt her.

Warnings: Mentions of the end of the world, mentions of homicide, implies forced marriage but it is her choice, scars and wounds

A hedge witch, that was what the coven called me, though I had been here even before their forefathers laid their roots in my soil. They always hated my kind, called us uneducated and unnatural.

So, now here I was, after centuries of wandering the wilderness alone, at the wedding of Hilda Spellman, surrounded by people who appreciated me and my talents.

To be quite fair, I was quite ready to eradicate the puny coven with the other hedge witches but as time progressed they grew on me, like vines they encased me with their warmth and I felt like I had a place to belong, a home.

The champagne was flowing and the band was moving the attendants of the party with their groovy beats. Hilda and her new groom looked happily in love, like the people around them ceased to exist in each other’s presence. I wish to have such a love, one day.

Then came the disastrous speech which quite frankly was hilarious. I mean I knew that the youngling shouldn’t have had so much gin but she was an adult, so what can we say?

I’m not going to lie, I quite enjoyed the music Sabrina’s friends were playing, particularly the song ‘Radio Gaga’ what an odd name but it was certainly groovy. But as the music slowly came to a close, the incubus in Theo kept body-hopping till it landed in the particularly fine gentleman in a dashing suit...who seemed to absorb the incubus.

And that’s where all hell broke loose.

Okay, why would they not keep Ambrose in-charge of letting the guests in, since he knew what the Uninvited looked like? Or they could have showed Sabrina and Nick a picture of the potential party-crasher, honestly these witches just make life a little harder sometimes.

Though, I’m a little sad that the little warlock got his heart pulled out, but who tries to try and boss around an Eldritch terror? Especially about clothes?

The Eldritch terror proceeded to propose a toast, to the end of days, promising to end each of us who attended the wedding, refusing Hilda’s invitation.

Just as the entity started approaching the crowd, Sabrina stepped forward but before she could get a word out I stepped in front of her, “What if you were always invited?”

The entity looked at me, curious at my question.

“What if you had a place to belong? A home. A place that you were always welcomed to. A place where you could finally rest? Would you spare these people in exchange?”

“I would, but I have no such resting place, hence since these people deprived me of my momentary reprieve, I shall deprive them of their hearts, for only those that are truly heart-less deserve to be so.”

He raised his arm to plunge into the nearest guest before I interrupted, “I could give you that. A home.”

“How?” His voice echoed through the silent hall.

“We could get married. That way, you’d always be welcome to my home. You’d always have a seat at my table, beside me and you’ll receive the warmth that was denied of you at the beginning.”

The Uninvited eagerly agreed, while the rest of the inhabitants of the hall were relieved to live another day yet appalled at my solution.

“Why would you do this? Sacrifice yourself to be chained to that-that monster?” Sabrina questioned, outraged.

“I feel- I sense his loneliness. I know how he feels, how it feels to not have anywhere to rest, anywhere to call home, so the least I could do is provide his weary soul with some comfort, dear friend.”

“Still! It’s not right that you have to sacrifice so much for a coven who spurned you, only inviting you in when they had no other option.”

“Sabrina, it was my choice. My decision and I would appreciate it if you did not meddle with this. I do not wish to trap him in a trinket like we did the darkness, so please do not do that. Plus, I’ll be okay. And maybe he’ll be able to help us against the other terrors.” Sabrina’s protests died down but I knew that she would not let this go silently.

The rest of the coven had mixed reactions. Zelda shared Sabrina’s sentiments, Hilda felt guilty as if the whole ordeal was her fault and Ambrose...well he was less than pleased.

We had the wedding at the academy, in Zelda’s office with Zelda officiating, much to her displeasure. I wore a beautiful white dress decorated with real flowers, namely, white plumeria, aquelegia canadensis, baby blue eyes. hellebores and a plethora of other flowers.

A flower crown sprouted from my hair, a courtesy of my nature based powers, or ‘flower-powers’ as Sabrina would call them.

When I walked into the room, everyone was stunned into silence. If it was under better circumstances, some would have smiled too.

The person who was the most stunned was perhaps my own groom, with wide eyes filled with adoration and wonder he extended his hands towards me. I placed my hands gently in his, noting the wounds from his years of travel.

I smiled softly at him, before the ceremony began.

The wedding passed by in a blur and before I knew it I was being escorted out of the office on the arm of my new husband.

We entered the main hall of the coven and I raised my arms, causing vines to sprout from the crevices of the hall. Flowers of a wide variety blossomed in the room. Everyone was in awe of the display. Music played through the air as the newly wed couple danced and the coven watched.

Soon they retired to her cottage in the woods that she had built over the centuries.

It was had two floors and was quite large. It looked like it had emerged from a fairy tale.

“May I carry you over the threshold?” Her groom asked tentatively.

She agreed and he carried her to her room.

Her room was decorated with vines and plants on every surface. Her bed was carved of wood with intricate patterns throughout. She also had a huge vaulted window through which moon-light poured into the room. Near the window was a window-seat laid with pillows and cushions that looked incredibly cozy.

Her groom gently set her down on her feet and looked at her.

She simply smiled and told him, “First, before we go further I want to give you a bath then tend to your wounds. I know they must hurt. Will you let me?”

Taken aback by his bride’s request, he simply nodded his consent.

She grinned and went to prepare him a bath.

When his wife was out of the room he began contemplating her actions. Why would she be so kind to him? He was the one who had threatened to kill her and all those she held dear to her. Why would she want to dress his wounds? No one had ever dressed his wounds before. Why did she care? Was it all an act? Was this some sort of trap? No. It couldn’t be. She was too kind and he sensed no ulterior motives from her.

He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of his new bride calling him into the bathroom.

The bathroom was a large room with a white bath tub at the center of the room. At the far end of the room also stood a shower as well as a few shelves with all sorts of herbs, essential oils, bath salts and bubble-baths- everything that one would need to take a relaxing bath. There was also a screen in the corner behind which the new groom took off his garments.

The bathroom glowed in the yellow lights of the candles spread across the room.

The tub was filled with sweet-smelling water. He could not place the scent but it was quite relaxing. Flowers of all kinds floated on the water and beside the tub stood his new bride, she had changed her clothes to something more comfortable, smiling gently at him she motioned for him to enter the tub.

As his back rested against the warm porcelain of the tub his new wife got to work, gently removing the knots from his hair before washing it clean of what seemed like centuries of grime. She proceeded to gently wash his face, being mindful of the cuts.

As she was washing his hands, he asked her, “Why did you marry me?”

“Hmm?”

“Why would you marry someone like me?”

“Why, husband? Are you regretting your decision so soon?” she chuckled before continuing, “Did I tell you how I came to be with the coven?”

He leaned forward, eager to hear her.

“I was what covens call a hedge-witch. I had no coven and no place to call home. So, a few hundred years ago I decided to lay down roots, to create my own home after wandering for centuries. That’s when I came across Greendale. There was something drawing me here so I followed that pull and built this house. But it wasn’t until the coven was faced by pagans that the other hedge-witches and I were included in their coven, in their little family. The point is that I sensed a deep loneliness and longing within you, something I had felt myself for a long time and no one deserves to feel like that, which is why I married you.”

He was silent after my revelation and the rest of the bath passed by in relative silence.

After an hour of moisturizing, conditioning and massaging her new groom the bath water was drained and she wrapped him in a fluffy towel-robe. (She may have lived in the forest but she was not a heathen.) She told him that she was going down to the kitchen to prepare something for his injuries and that he was welcome to join her.

So there he was, sat at her kitchen table, watching her flutter around the kitchen grabbing bottles, plucking leaves from the potted plants, mixing, grinding and chopping while humming under her breath.

He simply watched her motions, intrigued by her mundane activities.

She turned to him, smiling and wrapped his wounds in gauze. Smothering his wounds in the green colored paste she warned him that the medicine would sting but he sat there, unflinching at her ministrations.

She paid special attention to the wounds on his feet which he no doubt incurred while on his long, tiring journey.

After bandaging him up she prepared a hearty stew with vegetables, meat and bread. They sat at her kitchen counter, side-by-side partaking in the delicious spread. He polished off his bowl in record time and was offered a second helping, which he graciously accepted.

After centuries of wandering the cosmos he felt...not angry. Well, not as angry as he used to feel. He felt warm in his chest. Was this what being cared for felt like?

After she they were sated she smiled tiredly at him before escorting him to her bedroom. She’d made it clear that she was tired from the events of the day and thus did not feel up to consummating their marriage.

He protested, at the beginning but eventually gave in, agreeing that his wounds should heal before he spent intimate time with his new wife.

They laid on her bed, side-by-side with their hands intertwined and talked to each other. Both wanting to know more about their new spouse.

He told her about his journey through the cosmos and how everything came to be and she told him about her life on Earth, her love for plants and the friends she had made through her life.

“Why did you not cut my hair?”

“Hmm?”

“A man called Blackwood cut my hair before sending me to your friend’s wedding. Why didn’t you?”

“You’re going to find this silly, but I find men with long hair particularly enticing.”

“Is that so?”

“It is, dear groom.”

“Well, I find women who bloom flowers particularly enticing as well.”

Hearing this, she grew a red chrysanthemum and gave it to him before she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The uninvited twirled the flower between his fingers before gripping the stem tightly, hoping to preserve it, and went to sleep.

For once his sleep was comfortable and warm. His heart was full and so was his stomach, all thanks to the little witch that laid by his side, who looked past his exterior and saw the lonely tortured soul hidden deep within.

#The uninvited x reader #the uninvited #caos #caos fic #caos x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #sabrina netflix #Eldritch terror #Second Eldritch Terror #Eldritch terror x reader

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passable-talent · 2 years

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here it is :)

ANAKIN SKYWALKER X GN!READER

RETURN: part 3 | part 2 | part 1

You were familiar with your walls, with the rage that tamped down your guilt and sadness and regret. It was like a muscle, held at attention for so long, that you don’t even notice it anymore. You could suppose. . . yes, there was something else like that. You could feel it; it was like someone had just drawn attention to your shoulders being raised. You had to consciously decide to let it relax and let your mind fall.

You felt Yoda’s presence in your mind first, a sky blue, soft like a warm spring day. Slowly, though, others joined him. You could recognize some- Qui-Gon’s muddy green, Obi-Wan’s brilliant gold. You thought you could even place some of the others, like the purple that you couldn’t help but feel belonged to Master Windu.

There wasn’t anything, for a moment, beyond their presence in your mind, tangled within you in a way that nothing had ever been. Foreign, but knitted into your DNA just as tightly as your own presence was. You weren’t sure you’d be able to draw the line between you and them if you’d been asked.

You felt an instinct to start showing them memories from the beginning. Or was it a suggestion?

So you thought of your childhood. There was of course training when you were a youngling, but there was freedom, too. You remember how excited you were, whenever you could spend time with Obi-Wan. When you were five, you would chase after him as he walked through the Jedi temple, barraging him with questions about his missions and his training. You had been so excited to become a padawan, especially after you’d spent enough time with Obi-Wan’s master, simply by following Obi-Wan around. Qui-Gon would ruffle your hair and drop his wisdom on you, always with a smile and a hand on your shoulder. His praise meant more to you than anything.

When you were nine, Qui-Gon invited you to walk around the gardens of the temple, and told you that he intended to recommend Obi-Wan be given the trials when they returned from their mission to the Naboo system. And when Obi-Wan succeeded, as Qui-Gon was so sure he would, he promised you that he’d take you to Ilum.

All you wanted in the world was to be his padawan. But their mission changed the galaxy, didn’t it?

They came back with Anakin Skywalker, who joined your crèche. News of Obi-Wan’s trials being completed by the defeat of the first Sith in generations came to you not from your friend or your future master, but through the gossip of the temple. You hadn’t heard anything from Obi-Wan or from Qui-Gon in weeks when you were brought before the council.

The masters know this story. They know how Qui-Gon’s focus pivoted from the youngling he’d nurtured to the child he’d found. It’s why they ignored his wishes and gave Anakin to Obi-Wan. Your mind moves forward through time.

Surprisingly, you pause on memories of your relationship with Anakin, which you hadn’t intended to show to the masters. It isn’t until you smell blood that you realize that it isn’t you who is bringing it to mind; it’s the council, looking for it. And you’re resisting.

But you lower your walls again. They know, so there’s no use in hiding it.

You slip through time, your memories flashing by of running with Anakin, sparring with him, meeting in the halls and being closer than you should’ve. Shame burns at your ears, knowing that in each one of these memories, you break the code. There’s emotion and passion, here, much more than the code allows. And yet, the memories pass by, one after the other, not pausing or dwelling on any. You’d think they’d want something more damning, but. . .

You blink, and surrounding you is the landscape of Boirru, just as it looked nine years ago. The planet is rocky and in most places temperate, but the oceans are centered around the poles, making the equator a solid band of arid rock. You, along with your master, Obi-Wan, and Anakin, had been sent to provide humanitarian aid to a small village whose moisture farms hadn’t been as prosperous this year, to bring water to the village and see if there was anything else you could do. You had no reason to suspect that pirates were stalking the town and siphoning the water sources.

And you had no reason to suspect that they were going to chase you away from your ship, pinning you by a cliffside. For all your faults, for all the skills you hadn’t yet grown by twelve years old, you could manage to stand beside Anakin and deflect blaster shots with little failure, flanked on either side by Jedi knights. You hissed as a few grazed your skin, only barely dodged, but things could be going worse.

Until, of course, the pirates launch a thermal detonator toward you.

The world slowed down, halting on its axis. Qui-Gon stepped back and lifted a hand toward it, Obi-Wan gasped, Anakin threw an elbow over his face. And yet, when it detonated, Obi-Wan flew backwards and cracked unconscious against a boulder not far away, and Qui-Gon, using the force, only skidded back on his feet.

You and Anakin weren’t so lucky. Standing closer, the blast knocked Anakin to the ground, and sent him rolling back toward the cliff. You didn’t roll, but slid, desperately grabbing at the dusty stone to try to slow you down. It didn’t work- and you only slowed when your fingertips caught at the edge of the cliff, now terrifyingly suspended over a drop that you couldn’t even guess the depths of. Anakin came to rest with half of his torso tipping over the edge, head limp and laying slack.

“Master!” You shouted, flooded with adrenaline, terrified. Anakin was slipping. So were you. You heard more blaster fire, but with your arms and shoulders fully extended, you couldn’t see what was happening. You tried to readjust, but the fine powder on the stone offered no grip. You called out again, terror bringing tears to your eyes, feeling each knuckle give over the edge of the cliff.

“Please!” You gave one final scream, only the barest of your fingers left gripping stone, and in the final moment before you fell, you saw Qui-Gon over the edge, grabbing Anakin’s shirt and pulling him back from the edge. He didn’t even look at you in your final instant before plummeting.

You were unconscious for a long time, when you landed. And while your memories of Anakin had gone quickly, like they were being sifted through, this stuck like it was happening in real time. Nothing dulled the pain, not even the all-consuming fear of being paralyzed. You couldn’t move your legs, your face felt numb, and there was no respite from the sun. You didn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat. You could barely breathe, more and more convinced that any of the chittering you heard at night was a canyon crawler coming to eat you. Your saber was gone.

Dooku found you after you’d lied awake through two nights. You recognized him immediately, as your grandmaster and as a former Master. He came across you, quickly mobilizing to save you with reassurance and genuine concern. He had you seen by a med-droid within minutes of finding you, and sat at your bedside once you were healed enough to no longer require a bacta tank. You confided in him, told him of all the things you’d been through. You were fully honest to him, omitting details of your love for Anakin, but nothing else.

You stayed with him for as long as you needed to heal. After that, you had nowhere to go. Your grandmaster was going to be the safest place, and he offered that you didn’t need to go back. He could take over your training, being a former master, and he felt that you had been mistreated by the Jedi. Just as he had.

You didn’t know you were falling for two years, a slow descent into the Dark. By then, the carefully fed flames festering in your stomach were ready to let you accept any training given to you, anything that would help you stop feeling the pain that being abandoned by your master instilled you with.

Betrayal turned to rage, just to keep yourself sane, to keep yourself from crumbling. You held hatred for the Jedi Order and for Qui-Gon Jinn deep in your heart for years, letting it fuel every drop of blood you spilled. You cursed it when you slipped up in your training and found yourself bruised, you screamed it in battles and to the interior of your ship as you piloted through superatomospheric fire fights. You whimpered it with gritted teeth whenever the cold terror of a drop stretching out before you reminded you of how it felt to fall. This hatred propped you up, keeping you standing under the weight of all you’d done and all you’d lost for nine years. Until you met Anakin in a Republic transmission base, and you crumbled anyway.

The memory of that night, only a day ago, fades from vibrancy as you watch through it. Light blues lose their saturation, then violets, then goldenrod yellows, until the whole memory feels greyer. It takes you a moment to realize that what you experienced was the council, leaving your mind.

You open your eyes to the council room. Yoda’s gaze remains on the floor, even with his eyes open, and you wait for him to speak.

“Thank you, Padawan (L/N),” he says, not looking at you. “Go, you may.”

You stand and turn toward the door at your back, and sitting between is Qui-Gon Jinn, with tears running down his face, an expression of horror and deep regret looking up at you. You step past him and out the door.

Anakin waits just outside. As soon as you step through the door, he brings you to his side, surrounding you in his midnight blue. You lean your head against his shoulder as he guides you to benches not far from the council room, and you sit down gratefully, letting his cloak warm you while he keeps his hand on your back.

“How’d it go?”

“Not any worse than I expected, I guess,” you tell him, closing your eyes. It doesn’t feel all that bad. Experiencing everything all over again brought back to mind how much it had hurt to fall from the light, but you’d lived with that pain for long enough that you don’t feel any different than you felt this morning.

Qui-Gon’s face sticks in your memory, though. What had prompted that reaction from him? He looked so deeply in pain, so terribly lost in something you couldn’t have possibly expected.

All this time, the Qui-Gon Jinn that existed in your mind was cold, heartless. He turned away from you and toward Anakin and never came back, his care for you withering and dying as soon as the Chosen One appeared. Was there something. . . you couldn’t fathom if there was something deeper, something within him that was beyond the interpretation you’ve had since you were nine years old.

The soft sounds of the ventilation of the temple do nothing to fill the questions of your mind. You sit with Anakin, and after a moment or two consider leaving, but you were in a cell up until now, and you’ve received no instructions on whether or not you should be returning to it. So you stay with Anakin, waiting for what felt like hours but must’ve been only twenty minutes or so as the council discusses.

It’s not Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan or even Yoda who comes to collect you. Master Windu crosses the threshold of the council room, and his gaze is not judgemental nor approving when he finds your head on Anakin’s shoulder and his cloak around you. He nods you back into the council room, and when Anakin stands to follow, Windu doesn’t stop him.

The council has found their seats again, and so you stand in the center of the room with Anakin just behind you, his dark, cool blue surrounding you and keeping you safe from the prying eyes of the sith. Master Yoda clears his throat.

“Padawan (L/N),” he begins, wringing his fingers over his cane, “decided, the council has, that a threat to the Jedi you are not.” You breathe out like you never thought you’d taste air again.

“That being said,” Mace Windu continues, “reformed or not, you are still a betrayer to the Republic. Your punishment for those crimes falls under our jurisdiction. You are not forgiven.”

You suppose you deserve that.

“You will be given adequate training to develop the skills to guard your mind,” Master Windu continues. “Until then, you will continue to have round-the-clock protection. You will be updated at a later time as to what your future holds. For now, you will be returning to your cell.”

Anakin takes you back down to the detention level of the temple. You don’t make much conversation, stunned by your acceptance and stung by your lack of forgiveness. The latter was much easier to accept than the former.

You laid down on your cot when you reached it, and Anakin took a seat beside you, slowly running his fingers through your hair, detangling it gently simply because his fingers had nothing else to do.

The door of your cell opens to Qui-Gon Jinn. Anakin leaves quickly, abandoning you to sitting, staring, at the mentor who abandoned you. And who sobbed in front of you after seeing it through your eyes.

“(Y/N),” he says, slowly kneeling down in front of you, “I don’t know if there’s anything enough in the galaxy I could say that would make me worthy of your forgiveness.” You say nothing, letting him suffer in his regret. You don’t have the dark side to pull on anymore, but that doesn’t mean you have kindness to extend to him.

“Watching that, feeling the way that you did. . . I never should have treated you that way. It was horrible of me and you deserved so much better. If I had just. . .” He lets out a breath, reaching behind himself. From behind him, he pulls out a lightsaber: yours.

The saber he had helped you fashion when you were eleven years old. The saber that housed the cyan crystal you’d journeyed into Illum to find. The saber you’d lost on Boirru.

“I found it in that canyon; I thought you dead. Anakin and Obi-Wan, they were in such poor condition that I worried about leaving them to go find you, but that was. . . it was the wrong decision. If I had gone, just a few hours sooner, I might’ve found you.” He lowers his head, looking at the saber in his palms. “But I’m not sure I would’ve been such a good master for you, even after that day. I think that this, all of this, might be the will of the force. You deserved better than to grow as my padawan. At least this way, you got to learn from someone else.”

“I didn’t deserve to lay, dying, at the bottom of a canyon for two days and two nights.”

“No, (Y/N), of course not-”

“I didn’t deserve to have my last sight being my master, saving someone else’s life over my own.”

Qui-Gon goes silent.

“I didn’t deserve this, Qui-Gon. None of this. I didn’t deserve to have the master who had taken interest in me suddenly turn away. I didn’t deserve to be compared to the Chosen One and favored less than him. I didn’t deserve to be manipulated by my grandmaster into becoming a Sith and being forced to live with the blood on my hands. And even now, I don’t deserve to still wish I had your approval. I don’t deserve to have to grapple with whether or not I should even accept this apology. I’m not sure I even deserve to have to hear it.”

“You don’t,” he finally concedes, turning over the hilt of your saber in his hand. “You do, though, deserve to come to peace with all of it. You’ve spent your time in the dark. You deserve to rest in the light. I promise you that I will do everything I can in the council hall to make sure you get the opportunity.”

Qui-Gon stands, slowly, groaning softly with the exertion. He does not immediately leave, though, looking over your saber again. Without a word, he offers the hilt to you. Surprised, you hesitate for a moment before reaching out and taking it. Once you have, he disappears quickly out the door. Anakin returns a moment later, only barely stuttering at the threshold when he notices your saber.

“I didn’t know he still had that,” Anakin says as he steps to your side, letting you stay standing in the middle of the room, but now under his protection.

“I didn’t think he’d keep it,” you breathe out, closing your eyes slowly. It’s been a long time since you reached out specifically to the light side of the force. Sure, you’ve felt it, but feeling it is different than choosing to connect to it. You take a soft breath and let the sensation of holding your saber slip away in favor of reaching into it, feeling for the electrical circuits you carefully stitched as a child, and within them, your beautiful teal kyber crystal.

It feels like an old friend.

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

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littleoddwriter · 2 years

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Hi, i just wanted to request a Qui-Gon Jinn x Male reader, where the reader is getting lost to the dark side and Qui-Gon is trying to help him and afraid of losing him he confesses his love? Something like their first kiss?

The Dangers of Grief | Qui-Gon Jinn x Male!Reader

Hi there! Thanks for the request, I really hope you like what I've done with it! :')

summary; See above, basically.

notes; Male!Reader; Very Minor Character Death; Loss; Grief; Probably Bad Descriptions of how the dark, light and (force) bonds work, but I don't care; Love Confessions; First Kiss.

For many years, you two have been friends. You had been younglings together, growing up and being taught at the same time. You had become incredibly close over time, which hasn’t changed once you were both adults and Jedi Masters with your own Padawans to teach. And you had a strong bond because of it. A bond that was both envied and looked down upon by other Jedi. After all, it made you vulnerable and easier for the dark to get a hold of either of you.

Qui-Gon had always been very aware of that. You on the other hand have said that there was no need for worry. It was a conscious decision to join the dark side and that was one thing you would never do. That was what you had told him once it came up between you two that your bond may have been stronger than it was appropriate.

Yet every day, he felt the dark simmering beneath your surface. Others couldn’t sense it, but he could, thanks to your bond.

You had come back alone from a mission when it started. Your Padawan had fallen, dying at the hands of a group that called itself the Resistance on the planet you had been to. Qui-Gon would never understand what killing someone innocent did for them to achieve their goals.

Day in and out, Qui-Gon has been there for you, though. He comforted you when you were crying. He held you in his arms and waited for you to fall asleep at night. He reminded you to eat. He did everything he could to be a good friend to you. You were the most important person in his life. He loved you dearly, going far beyond platonic love, which he’s never told you; but to him, it made no difference. He knew that you would have done the same thing for him if the situation had been reversed, no matter the nature of your feelings.

Understandably, it worried him to feel the dark among all the light that was in you. He wondered how he could help you. Were you even going to give in? After what you had told him all those years ago about it being a conscious decision, he hoped you stayed true to your word. But he also understood that this situation was different from anything either of you had ever imagined. Grief was the most dangerous state of them all. This one feeling that could make one fall easier than any other.

Many believed that anger was what fuelled the dark, but even pure rage wasn’t nearly as dangerous as when it was born from grief.

Every day, Qui-Gon could sense the dark in you grow stronger. Someone else was going to notice it soon enough, he was certain of it. He had to talk to you. He had to bring you back to your senses and away from the dark. He had to save you.

Qui-Gon couldn’t bear the thought of losing you out of all the creatures in the galaxy.

Thus, he decided to speak with you right away. He told Obi-Wan to go and spar with one of his friends, as he went to find you.

Just like any other day now, he found you in your quarters. You barely ever left them at all. He understood why. The room was and contained all you had left of your dear Padawan.

“What do you want, Qui?” you asked, not looking up at him from where you sat on the floor, wrapped in a blanket and with a necklace, which belonged to your Padawan, in your hands. Your face was stained with tears. It had become a common state to find you in.

Sometimes Qui-Gon wondered if the Council was just humouring you by not pressuring you into getting yourself a new Padawan or at least getting back to your duties. They had always thought of you as someone, who was too easily swept away by their own emotions after all. Qui-Gon argued that it was what made you a uniquely good Jedi.

Exhaling slowly, Qui-Gon sat down across from you on the floor.

“I’ve been sensing the dark in you ever since you came back, Y/N,” he stated, “It’s getting stronger every day. I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, your hands tightened their hold on the necklace. Your knuckles turned white with it. He felt a surge in the dark.

“I’m not going to give into it,” you said, not looking at him and with your voice wavering slightly.

He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t believe you.

“That is what I’m hoping for, but I become more uncertain of it every day,” Qui-Gon told you sincerely. There was no use in lying to you.

A quick, dry, humourless laugh left your lips, “Wow. Even my best friend doesn’t believe in me anymore. That’s great.”

“Y/N, that is not what I said-”

“No, but that’s what you meant. Is it not?” you snapped, frowning at him.

“I believe that you can fight it,” Qui-Gon said, gently laying his hands on yours, “What I’m afraid of is that you have lost faith in yourself.”

He could hear the way your breath caught in your throat.

“I don’t know,” you whispered brokenly.

Qui-Gon’s heart shattered into pieces.

“Then I’ll believe in you for the both of us now,” he said, nodding for emphasis and his own reassurance. He just had to save you. He had to.

“Why?” you asked softly, looking absolutely incredulous.

“Because I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Qui-Gon confessed. It wasn’t this big confession he had always imagined, nor had he done it under the circumstances he would have liked it to be; but perhaps it was exactly the right time and place anyway.

For a split second the dark that has been surrounding you throughout the conversation let up a little, as a surge of light jolted you both.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time and I’ll never stop loving you. That, I know. It also means that I will always have faith in you, dear one,” Qui-Gon continued, then.

A silent tear slipped out of your eye, as a small smile spread across your face. He couldn’t tell when he’s last seen you smile.

Shifting around and leaning into Qui-Gon, neither of you ever let go of each other’s hands, as your faces were now only a mere inch apart.

“I love you too,” you admitted softly before kissing him chastely.

Qui-Gon has never kissed anyone before. He had always dreamed of sharing his first kiss with you. He could barely believe that it was actually happening, but the surge of light that went through your bond convinced him that it was real.

“I told you I would never give into it. I’m certainly not going to now. For us,” you told Qui-Gon after parting from him.

In response, Qui-Gon let go of your hands at last to cradle your face in them, so he could bring you in for another kiss. This one was full of the passion and love he felt for you, which you reciprocated enthusiastically.

It was as though the dark fog that has been surrounding you lately was finally dissipating.

If your shared love could save you from the dark, then Qui-Gon knew that you would be healing from the loss of your Padawan soon enough. He felt like the worst was about to have been overcome now.

#nah for real i took major creative freedom here to make it work #so i ask you to ignore any inaccuracies please and thank you <3 #also i didn't actually have qui listed when you sent this in but technically i wrote for him already so you know it's fine #i'm in love with him after all so this was actually perfect hdjkhfsjh #anywayyy #x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #qui gon jinn #qui gon x reader #liam neeson #star wars prequels #fanfiction #fanfic

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