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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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I wanna talk about Star Wars comics and how fucking funny they are??? And how with the power of hindsight, they can make Luke and Leia so obviously twins??? (The finish each others sentences!! They both think about stealing an Imperial fucking Star Destroyer at the exact same time!! Luke says “Han is gonna hate this idea” and Leia replies “All the more reason to do it” !! They are TWINS babey!!)

Darth Vader knowing Luke is his son before Empire Strikes Back is the best move ever. Like, you can read Empire Strikes Back as him knowing (he calls Luke “Skywalker” on Hoth, after all) but making it obvious? Chef’s kiss. Darth Vader sending multiple bounty hunters and Stormtroopers and Aphra all after Luke, but specifically requesting him alive? Every single person who confronts Luke being like “Why the FUCK does Vader want you alive?? Has he even met you??? I met you five seconds ago and I want you dead, Vader is so powerful????” Vader purposefully ruining other Imperial plans to catch Luke because he’s the only Imperial who gets to have Luke? Him calling him exclusively “my son” in his inner dialogue? Him being like “The world and the galaxy and the Empire and everyone I know could literally die right in front of me in a fiery death but that is secondary, can I have my boy or what?”

(Luke over there like “Hmm. For some reason, I feel like I should meet Vader.”

Leia: “Ignore it.”

Luke: “Yeah, okay.”

Vader: “…hello darkness my old friend-“)

I love Sana but I specifically love her relationship with Luke. If you were to tell someone that a smuggler and a princess were friends, you’d be describing Sana and Luke’s relationship instead of Han and Leia’s. What do I mean i’m so glad you asked-

Luke, very excited: “I got to drive the Falcon :D”

Sana, very tired because this is right after the prison break arc and Luke was unconscious and threatened with death five seconds ago: “This child is too young to speak to me.”

Luke: “What do you mean about Han and Leia?”

Sana: “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Like!!! Sana!!! Leia is the SAME age as him!!! But no, Luke is the babie one, it matters little that he blew up the Death Star, he is the sheltered princess of the relationship while Sana is the world-weary smuggler who feels dirty just standing next to him. Their dynamic is fucking gold and I will not hear a single thing against it.

Okay but can we talk about Vader Down? The story arc in which Aphra says “Skywalker is on Vrogas Vas” and Vader comes out of hyperspace in the exact area the x-wings are doing drills? The story where Luke is like “hm, how best to deal with Darth Vader… I think I’ll crash my ship directly into his, sending us both plummeting to what might be our deaths, that might work.” (Vader: “Finally, a pilot who is worth facing off against wait a second that feels like-“) The story where Leia is like “Everyone around me is dead except for me, but Vader obviously left me alive in hopes I’d lead him back to the base, but I’m going to do the opposite, actually, and I’m going to stand here and wait for him and then tell the Rebels to blow us both up. Yes, I’ll die, but so will Vader, and that’s worth it.” (Vader is not actually thinking she’ll lead him to the rebel base. He (correctly) assumes that either Leia will find Luke or Luke will come to Leia) Dr. Aphra come over to try and help capture Luke because her options are 1. Capture Skywalker boy and bring him to Vader and Vader maybe won’t torture her to death, or B. Vader definitely tortures her to death.

The actual reason I love Vader Down is actually a combo of two reasons. First and foremost, Luke gets captured or knocked out or otherwise incapacitated (or just passed from one group’s hands to another) like ten times. It’s a running trend in the comcis, actually, Luke’s slipperiness that resembles how impossible it is to catch him in the Thrawn trilogy (Luke should be impossible to capture, it’s really what he deserves). The second reason is because Darth Vader finally commits murder of the person I want to see him murder, “General Grievous 2.0, this time he’s a cephalopod.” Or, Karbin for short. The way he gets him?

1. Big rock bridge

2. Vader pushed Karbin back a bit with the Force

3. Vader walks off of the bridge

4. Aphra rams into the bridge with her ship

5. Murder

It’s a foolproof plan and really, just, very well executed, 10/10 all around, I can’t get over Vader casually just walking off of the bridge

(The comic ends with Luke being like: “I feel like there was something I was supposed to learn in that big ol’ Jedi temple down on Vrogas Vas. Like the Force or something wanted me to know something. Or learn something. Hmm. Guess I’ll never know what it was. ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ “

Vader: “…all around me are familiar faces-“)

Luke and Darth Vader and Vader being like “pleASE just GIVE ME my BOY” and the Force going “haha nope” while Luke accidentally gets lost on his way to literally everywhere is so good. Luke and Obi-Wan, who left Luke his journal that Luke pulls out every once in a while to read is also, I must say, just wonderful.

Obi-Wan is the oldest 40yo ever, give him and his joints a break please and just let him pat the small child’s head once or twice, Owen, please, it might keep him sane, it’s for the good of the galaxy-

No what I actually like are the rock people. The Force rock people. The glowing blue Force rock giant people who were worn down by tiny humans until they became mountain ranges and who Yoda revives. The tiny blue rock baby children who Luke meets for the literal first time in his entire life and is immediately like “I would literally doe to protect these babies. Get behind me children, I am very willing to be stabbed multiple times if it means that baby rock people remain unharmed.”

Luke gets stabbed like eight times, honestly, are the baby rock people worth it? Yes. They are. Thank you for asking-

But, this is all 2015 run stuff, and that’s a bit hnfair since I also love the earlier comics! I promise, I really do!

2004 run had Skippy the Jedi droid, which automatically makes it the best comic ever written, even if Luke does look like he has a haybale on his head. And it had Qui-Gon “I do what the Force tells me to do. Why did it tell me to do this? I don’t know, I did it because it asked and now it’s done. Bang up job, Obi-Wan, let’s go home” Jinn. Space Jesus Darth Vader, anyone? Strangely sexualized female characters? Fucking skirt slits up to everyone’s waist, because the artists have never tried to wear a skirt before? It even has Mara Jade! Truly, this comic has everything.

1977 comic run? Well. I have one thing to prove that this is worth your time. The comic isn’t great, the art is very strange, none of the characters look like their actors (it’s pretty cool that He-Man got his acting start playing Luke Skywalker-), and everything is a little bit off. Not to mention Leia’s strangely prominent breasts. Why are they like that? I’m confused.

Why should you read it?

Darth Vader floaty a cup.

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bearw-me · 16 days

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Sense it's may the 4th can I request the hazbin crew reacting to teen reader celebrating star wars and explaining to them what star wars is sense I think most of them wouldn't know about it.

yess i can! and sorry if these don't live up to expectations! i've watched the movies but im not totally involved in the fandom!

𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 — 𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬!

𐐒 ft : gender neutral! teen! reader, charlie morningstar, vaggie, alastor, nifty, angel dust, sir pentious, husk 𐐒 cw : fluff 𐐒 summary : you are showing the hazbin crew what star wars is no matter the cost + and their reactions 𐐒 note : ITS STILL may the 4th where i am! this counts!

Charlie Morningstar! Loves your enthusiasm so much she decides to watch the movies with you until she falls asleep. Makes popcorn for the two of you! I think she'd be pretty clueless though, as the princess of hell who's never been exposed to that kind of pop culture.

"Oh my goshh! Star wars!"

. . .

"What is that?"

She's got a good attitude about learning through you

Vaggie! Sits with you and Charlie, and although she has no idea what you are talking about (her being an angel and all and having no contact with Earth), everything you say to her just kind of floats through one ear and out the other.

GETS HEATED and physically mad when the storm troopers miss. every. shot. they. take.

likes she's cursing in spanish type of mad

likes bloopers (like when that one storm trooper hits his head on the door)

Alastor! Hates the television, so you'll have to explain everything to him through other means, even if that means him listening to you tell him the whole thing.

honestly, i think he'd be the most uninterested in the plot if it couldn't be explained well.

i think he'd actually like looking at the comics if you showed them to him "Well look at this fellow! Aren't they all charmingly misshapen!" when you show him aliens like Jabba, or Jar Jar.

likes the 'epic saga; between armadas and armies, jedi and sith. . . like he's smiling with his eyes narrowed and nodding as you point out everything that's happening.

Nifty! Retains NOTHING you are saying, she is just kind of staring through your soul. So when you put the movies on in the lobby she actually moves and watches while she dusts.

subconsciously retains the information and names some of her roaches after the characters.

she stops cleaning to just sit front and center in front of the tv.

LOVES the violence and fight scenes, especially when people get cut by a light saber.

asks you for pictures of the characters that she keeps crumbled into her apron (she adores darth vader)

always plops down onto a pillow in front of the tv whenever boba fett + anakin skywalker are on screen

WOULD LOVE to kill a storm trooper herself

Angel Dust! Like Charlie, I think Angel would be the best person to hear you out about star wars. I think he'd be a major geek with you, even acting out a few scenes and letting you win. He see's you like his sibling, so he enjoys your company. Why wouldn't he love doing something that you love?

loves the clothing in the movies, especially the queen of naboo's makeup. "And the hairr!"

loves the romances and sci-fi fantasy part of it

expect him to have ideas

Sir Pentious! I think out of all the people in the hotel he'd LOVE star wars. From watching the movies with you in the hotel's lobby to asking you a TON of questions! Like everything you know about star wars, he has to know too!

"I like thiss 'Sstar Warss'"

has to know everything and has his own fan theories

probably cried while he watched padme + anakin's love story. right up to the end

(he tries hard to identify with anakin)

he'll probably celebrate may 4th right along with you, t-shirt, movie cup, all his wrecked up merch in his hands just to watch the movies with you

tries to recreate all the gadgets and light saber's he see's without success. . . YET

Husk! Doesn't get it. He listens to you sure, while your sat at his bar counter and explaining everything to him about the plot and the characters. He asks a ton of questions, but it is sort of like explaining it to your dad.

He'll lean over the bar and ask you about plot holes, and when you answer back excitedly he kind of sighs to himself "Why is he getting so worked up on the plot anyway?"

like why is he forming an opinion now?

likes when you talk about it though, your enthusiasm is a little contagious

is 'subtly' watching the movies from behind you, turning away to wash some glasses when you stare over at him

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hanasnx · 1 year

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trust

summary: your little crush on the lord you serve is exacerbated when he saves your life.

word count: 0.8k | character(s): darth vader x reader

notes: it was stuck in my head; you and vader aren’t in a relationship but you work together and get caught in this mess together.

warnings: vader being the lil bitch he is <3 no gore no violence tbh

“Look out!” the man overhead jeered, gripping tightly around your upper arm as he haphazardly tossed you off the open hatch. You yelped out of instinct, before landing hard in the arms of your lord.

Darth Vader holds you much like a bride, and the chaos around you falls away. The gaze of his visor is fixed on the ship you were just thrown from, and he is eerily silent. In one dark second, you fear you’ve disappointed him, and the current compromising position becomes most dire.

“Put me down!” you demand, thrashing in his grip out of humiliation. Complying, he drops your legs, and your feet are met with the nimble peak of the spire you both now balance on. Your toes overstep the edge, and once your eyes meet the ground far below, you panic. The adrenaline of the setting controls you, and you cling onto the Sith Lord. “Pick me back up- pick me back up!” Whatever is within reach: his cape, his robes, his shoulders are all fair game to use to your advantage, climbing up him without a second thought.

His concentration and his freedom to force the shuttle to hold— to tear it back to him in order to escape this and teach those who wronged him a lesson— is broken, now focused on you and your frightened idiocy. The arm around your middle remains, but he grabs hold of your wrist as he stumbles back because of how you throw yourself at him. You scream in the face of death, and he counter-balances with your weight. As the two of you straighten, sharing the limited space chest to chest, an intense red cakes your cheeks from the proximity as well as your display of cowardice. He towers over you, and you feel the weight of his arms around you.

If it were anyone else, he’d care not if they plunged to meet the Maker, but it was you. As infuriating as it is.

“I’m—“ you begin your apology, but you are swiftly interrupted.

“Calm yourself.” His rumbling command rolls through like a thunder, and you obey him so as to not worsen your unlucky circumstances. “I have no time for your groveling. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

You gulp, and you nod.

His arm moves to grasp your other wrist, raising them above your head, and twisting you delicately— much like a dainty doll— so your back is to him, his indicators jabbing into your skin. You try to ignore how much you like him taking control of a situation, so you don’t have to. Habitually, your fingers cup over his gloves, and tighten when he lifts you. Your feet part from the ground, and point, swaying in his hold as you gather the words.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drop you.” he replies as he steps forward, the vision of life-defying height causing a lightning bolt of terror to course through your veins.

“What?” you cry out, your legs kicking out, begging to be reinstated to the spire as narrow as it is. “No, no, my lord, please, I’ve done nothing—“

“Quiet! I am not condemning you to execution! I am going to catch you.” The anger in his voice, reminiscent of frustration rather than wrath, makes you tremble like a newborn fawn anyway.

“What? No!”

“It is the only way.”

“It is not!”

Still he keeps you as you are, and you fight off tears.

“You chose to ruin our chances when I could’ve caught the prosecutor's stolen shuttle! Accept your fate or die.”

“Stop!”

His grip loosens, and you slip through, the thrill of falling shooting your stomach into your chest. Wind rips through your hair so loud you cannot hear your own scream. A cushion of air, invisible to the eye, envelopes you, slowing your descent. It’s nothing, there is no matter nor pressure; you float yet you are not feather-light. Your confusion interjects your cry, looking up to see Vader’s steady and shaped hand. He caught you, like he said he would.

His range is incredible, and you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t witness it. The spire he remained at the top of, was kilometers tall. Yet you sense no struggle as the force around you dissipates, and you land curtly onto the sand. You check on the Sith, your predicament now resolved means you adopt a new one. How is he going to get down?

Your question is answered as quickly as it was asked.

The dark red of his sith blade ignites, filling into its form. You watch as he steps off the spire, and sinks his saber into its side. He slides down at a record pace, but he outstretches his hand, combining the efforts of the minimal friction of his weapon with the padding of the force.

Heavy, he dents the ground when he makes contact, and like the lovesick fool you are, you’re entranced the entire time. The spire crumbles behind him, influenced by his opposing force pressure, the dust and debris clouds everywhere but him and where he steps.

You’re not even spared a side glance as he passes you.

“Come.” he recalls. Loyal, like a dog, you do as you’re told.

#indy: drabbles #ch: vader #darth vader drabble #x gn!reader #darth vader fanfiction #darth vader imagine #sw #star wars #darth vader x reader #star wars fanfiction #no smut #slow burn #romance #burnt!vader

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tremendouskoalachild · 1 year

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Star Wars (1977) #01

Roy Thomas, Apr 12 1977

So I decided to reread the 1977 Marvel run of Star Wars comics, as one does. I was probably just going to post a compilation of horrible Luke faces in each issue but then decided to compare some of the lines to the movie and shooting script, and this post happened 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, I might as well talk about the cover, right? I love everything about it. Identifying the genre correctly. The cursed logo (how do you fuck up the letter A. why keep the letters as they appear in the movie if you aren't going to connect them. look at that second R - it has a broken leg for no reason now. why is that W the only sharp edge when its middle is flat in the actual logo).

I love Leia's look and expression. I love how the colors mostly correspond to the movie but Han has a magenta gun and Darth Vader is green. Also the red lightsabers fuck (I assume that color came from early concept art but it may be stylistic or a fuckup I guess). "WILL HE SAVE THE GALAXY - OR DESTROY IT?" damn

also that publication date is off by several months lmao

The second page shows a space battle with the title crawl in several boxes. It is almost word for word the crawl from the fourth draft script (dated march 1976), just with more ALL-CAPS FOR EMPHASIS. The order of paragraphs is also changed. The main difference from the movie version is no mention of Leia. This paragraph also seems to imply a greater rebel threat than subsequent material would show, as well as reference earlier rebel victories:

The narration further on is largely taken from the script too, including referring to droids as robots, which makes sense but is still funny to me. The dialogue calls them droids just like the final film though.

This dialogue also mostly copies the script. One difference from the film I noticed immediately is Threepio mentioning the Captain instead of the Princess - he does not know her in the earlier drafts.

We are also introduced to Luke, who looks... not at all like a teenager and is capable of nimble leaps. This is adapted from the first half of Luke's deleted introduction scene.

Page 4 finally shows us Darth Vader! Look at him go, even stepping outside his panel. Adorably, just like in the fourth draft he is after information tapes, while the final version wisely has him simply look for "plans". He is also referred to as a Dark Lord of the Sith, which while mentioned in the novelization is never said in any of the OT films.

Leia has a beautiful cheesy comic book moment. It's kinda ruined by the next panel reminding us that there are no bras in space (friendly reminder that she is referred to as a "lovely young girl (about sixteen years old)" at this point in the script).

Page 6 follows with the second half of the Tosche Station deleted scene and even keeps Luke almost running over an old woman from the script:

The next page picks up with Leia sassing Vader and plays out much like the film. One interesting tidbit is Vader mentioning that Leia's ship passed through a restricted system, which you could see as an accidental connection to Rogue One's ending.

I also love Vader's sunglasses look and the Hidden Fortress allusion. I do wonder why the imperials seem to think the escape pod is a "repair pod" but that line comes directly from the script as well.

Page 9 adapts yet another deleted scene, where Biggs tells Luke he's joining the Rebellion. (It's a great scene btw. Very gay. Luke's adorable in it.)

The next scene on the Death Star plays out much like in the film. I love Vader randomly fucking with the other imperials by floating a cup. This part is also in the script but not the final movie for some reason :(

Next comes the droid selling scene, quite similar to the finished film. The interesting part happens as Luke is cleaning the droids:

Threepio why are you sitting like that 😳 Hologram Leia is channeling Carrie Fisher's you're my only hoe tweet. Luke has never seen a hologram and is surprised they are 3D. 3PO standing like a terminator in that last panel. I know everyone has been laughing at Luke's faces in these comics for nearly 50 years but this one... is he crosseyed. What happened to his cheeks. Why did his haircut suddenly get worse. I will even forgive that lil Leia is neither movie blue nor "a rainbow of colors" like in the script, these panels are everything to me.

Next we get the dinner scene, where Owen gets quite a bit more heated than in the film:

I would also like to highlight this panel because I find it funny:

"Lar's" doesn't seem to a typo here as it is consistently used in the whole script and only changes to Lars in a later draft. The comic keeps this too:

Sidenote: I guess this comic gives more context to the abusive uncle Owen characterization which I've seen in several pre-prequel fanfics.

The issue ends with Luke getting jumped by a Tusken Raider. The descriptions are once again taken from the script and I very much do not like them.

I haven't really found a definitive source for the claim that the Tuskens were consciously based on the Bedouin but their depiction in Lucas' films definitely rubs me the wrong way regardless.

The last two pages have some behind the scenes info and promote the film. This is also how I learned that the iconic A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away got only added later:

Anyway. Have some more awful Lukes:

#sw comics readthrough

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burnwater13 · 1 year

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So Ahsoka Tano wanted to test him, Grogu thought to himself, a little annoyed at the concept. Of what utility was that? What did she hope to learn? What would her test encompass? How long would it take? Would he need his datapad?

None of those questions were answered but Grogu was patient. He could wait to find out. After all, he’d gotten so good at pretending to sleep that Ahsoka hadn’t realized that, as soon as she started talking, he woke up long enough to hear her and be annoyed. Of course he went right back to sleep after that, annoyed or not, he was tired.

He wished he had stayed awake. He would have avoided dreaming that way. Normally, when he was with the Mandalorian, his dreams were all about piloting the Razor Crest or learning how to fly a speeder bike, or seeing Din, without his helmet blocking the view of his face. Those were pretty nice dreams.

Sometimes he even dreamed about being back on Sorgan and playing with the kids and catching frogs and eating them fresh and whole (the best way). That dream always looped back to the beginning and never included the bad stuff with the bad people. The nice lady at the tavern would give him endless cups of broth and that was pretty great too.

But this dream was different. It started with him at the Jedi Temple. It wasn’t a bad day. It wasn’t that bad day. It was a regular day. He was with the other younglings. Master Beq was there providing instructions. They were learning about the basic principals of lightsaber construction and the importance of selecting an appropriate kyber crystal. That had been a good day.

The Librarian hadn’t pinched his cheeks that day. None of the Masters had scolded him for having snacks in his floating chair. And he hadn’t been left behind by accident when they went to the courtyard for ‘play’ time, which was really ‘walk around quietly and don’t bug anyone’ time. So, overall, a good day for Grogu.

But the dream took a turn. A turn that Grogu didn’t like at all. Every time he turned around they were there. Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka. Grogu couldn’t get away from them. They stopped by the training sessions. They popped in during meals. They told stories at bed time. It should have been fun and interesting but it wasn’t. It was awful.

It was awful because Grogu didn’t see the versions of the people he knew and met at the Jedi Temple when he was a youngling. No. The people in his dream were the older versions. The tired versions. The angry versions. The sad versions. The Darth Vader versions.

He didn’t know how that worked or why it worked that way. The Force was strange and mysterious and it liked to tell you things you wouldn’t understand for years or even a lifetime. But he knew that he didn’t like it when the Force showed him things that he didn’t want to see.

He didn’t want to see a heartbroken, tortured, Anakin. He didn’t want to see the Obi-Wan who had to give up so much of who he was to follow a path that was so hard. And he didn’t want to see Ahsoka so bitter, so angry, so full of loss that she had no way to manage it other than to hide it from everyone. Or try to hide it. You couldn’t hide anything from the Force. And the Force wanted Grogu to see it.

Was that the test then? The real test? Was the Force testing Grogu’s ability to be kind and considerate? Was it testing him to see if he could put aside his pain and suffering and recognize what had happened to others and do what was best for them? Was it checking in on him to see if he had learned enough from the Mandalorian to know that good people were everywhere and you just had to give them a chance to show you their better nature?

If that was the test, then Grogu was ready for it. Dreams or no dreams, Grogu knew that he had learned many things from Din Djarin. He had learned that found family was family. He had learned that people could change given the opportunity to do so. He had learned to trust again. He had even learned that attachment did not define you, but it defined your values. Grogu valued the people he could call friend and the Mandalorian because he called him family. Because Grogu called Din Djarin ‘Dad’.

He hoped that Ahsoka was ready to test him and he also hoped that she would learn something from the test as well. It couldn’t be easy carrying around the burdens she wouldn’t share with anyone else. At least Grogu had his dad.

#the mandalorian #grogu #din djarin #calendar prompt a day #ahsoka tano

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bikananjarrus · 2 years

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Fic: from a tender age i was cursed with rage

summary: “The realization that Darth Vader is her father doesn’t settle in until after the fighting is done.”

(or: a post-rotj Leia character study fic wherein she tries to come to terms with the fact that vader is her father) (minor spoilers for the kenobi show)

rating: T

words: 1.7k

relationships: Leia & Vader, Leia/Han (minor)

warnings: minor depictions of torture, grief, anger, minor depictions of ptsd.

keep reading below or on ao3!

- - -

The realization that Darth Vader is her father doesn’t settle in until after the fighting is done.

The Emperor was dead. The second Death Star nothing but particles of dust and debris floating, falling through endless space above Endor and her moons.

Up until now, the adrenaline of battle had kept Leia’s mind and body occupied. And the celebrations that followed kept her happily distracted. Her friends were alive. Han and her brother—she had a brother!—were alive. She was alive, and they were free from the Empire, and nothing else should’ve mattered.

But as she’s laying in a hut high up in the trees—the only sounds made by branches rustling in the breeze outside the curtained doorway, the occasional howl or chittering of the forest’s wildlife, and Han snoring softly beside her on the makeshift bed they’d put together—the revelation hits her suddenly.

Like a sharp stab between the ribs that makes her feel suddenly cold. She has to keep herself from bolting upright at the panic that closes around her throat, tight and unyielding like that blasted slave collar.

She doesn’t want to startle Han, so she carefully and quietly extricates herself from the arm he has wrapped loosely around her waist. She knows he must be dead tired from the events of the day because he barely even stirs. And he always stirs when she wakes in the middle of the night. Ready to make her a cup of tea and listen if she feels like talking about the bad dreams that wake her. She twists, eyes roving over his sleeping face. Reaching out, she brushes back a section of hair that had flopped over his forehead.

Then she’s rising, restraining the urge to break into a sprint, and just run and run and run until the shadows clinging to the edges of her mind can no longer reach her.

But she walks at a normal pace to an otherwise empty walking bridge in the middle of the Ewok village—the same one she stood on with Luke and then Han barely twenty-four standard hours before. She tips her head up, looking through the canopy to the stars beyond.

Almost without thinking, she starts charting the stars in her mind, trying to triangulate the exact spot where Alderaan should be. And, as always, thoughts of Alderaan bring thoughts of her parents.

She thinks of her mother’s kind smile and warm eyes. She thinks of her mother’s intelligence, her ability to speak clearly and in such a way that you couldn’t help but be swayed by her words. Leia has no doubt that her mother could’ve read an old Alderaanian political textbook and enraptured a whole crowd.

She thinks of that same voice, of that stern and patient tone as she told Leia to sit still while she finished pinning her buns in place the last time they saw each other.

And her father… When she thinks about her father, it’s Bail’s face that immediately floats to the forefront of her mind.

No matter what truth she learned from Luke, the fact remains that Bail will forever and always be her father. He was the man who raised her, who, along with her mother, taught her the importance of standing up for those who weren’t able to stand up for themselves. He was the one who helped her find the best climbing trees in the forest surrounding their home, and taught her how to identify the ships flying in and out of Alderaan’s ports. He was the one that instilled in her a deep love for Alderaan—the rolling green forests, the ups and downs of every mountain peak, the curves and angles of the gleaming white buildings and all the art and beauty they held, and above all, Alderaan’s people. Her people.

More than any of that, anytime she got too serious, Bail was the one who made every effort to get her to laugh.

Leia doesn’t remember the last time she laughed.

And now that she knew it was Vader’s blood that ran through her veins… She thinks about the ever-burning pit that lived in her heart, about her too-quick temper that never belonged to Breha or Bail.

She remembers that rage filling every inch of her being as she watched Alderaan—the home she so dearly loved—be reduced to an empty space on the star charts. She had been helpless to do nothing but watch, and the rage only grew, matching the waves of darkness that flowed from the black-masked being holding her back.

She could've blown her cell on the Death Star to smithereens. She could've taken that whole gods-damned station down with her. But that power had fallen out of her grasp—her seemingly endless fury only tempered by the smothering waves of insurmountable grief.

And it was probably a good thing too. She hadn't understood enough about the power, the Force that lay inside her, to have been able to properly control it. She would have gone down with the Death Star if that's what it had taken; but that didn’t mean she should have. Her parents' sacrifice would've meant nothing if she'd died along with them.

A part of her died that day anyway. A missing piece she would never be able to find closure for, because the one place she could go to seek closure no longer existed.

She would never be able to go home again. And in that absence, the anger that had always been inside her, it nestled inside the hole in her heart and festered. Growing—its black, thorny vines cocooning themselves around her heart. Shielding it from further hurt and hurting her in turn.

Sometimes she thought she had a handle on it, that rage. After Alderaan it was easy to keep herself occupied with the Rebellion. That—the freedom of the galaxy—took precedence over her own feelings every time.

But then Han was taken. Tortured and used by the same towering black figure who had tortured and used her.

It was not a fight she would've been able to win. She knew that. But with the ghost of Han's last kiss on her lips and that same helplessness needling at her insides as she watched him freeze, she wanted nothing more than to leap across that platform and strangle the life out of the monster that had terrorized her dreams time and time again.

When Han slipped out of her grip completely—carried away by that bounty hunter—the fire and thorns in her heart were frozen over by the suddenly cold, empty space in the bed beside her.

She heard his laugh everywhere. And it knocked the breath out of her every time.

But the tightness that wrapped around her ribs, that feeling she got sometimes like she couldn't quite breathe right—it suffocated those vines of fury in her chest, too.

She focused on counting the days. And 1 standard year, 13 days, 4 hours, and 11 minutes later, Han was back in her arms. Safe.

And for a while, all she felt was relief and love and hope. There was hope that they could end the Empire's reign once and for all.

And they did.

Systems across the galaxy were celebrating. Joy and relief were palpable in the very air. The work was not yet done, but for a moment—they can breathe.

Except—

Except Leia was standing on the same isolated wooden walkway that she'd been on when Luke told her that he was her brother, and she was suffocating.

Her head dropped. She gripped the wooden railing in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut.

Phantom needles pricked her spine, the back of her neck, trying to draw the truth from between her clenched teeth. Her veins were on fire, but the black box that served as her cell on the Death Star was so, so cold, the bench beneath her freezing through the layers of her dress. Those cold walls and the even colder gaze of the masked figure above her pressed in on her—his breathing filled her ears, and all she could think—

My father, my father, my father—

And the vines around her heart squeezed and squeezed, glowing molten as they tried to contain the rage living there.

She flashes to a moment—so long ago now—

A mining village at night, shadows across buildings, heavy footsteps, and that same mechanized breathing.

And more than that—washing through what she now knows to be the Force, a torrential wave of burning rage and hatred and fear—

So similar to what she's feeling now that the truth nearly brings her to her knees.

For every part of her that was Bail and Breha—all of her love and quick wit and passion for fighting for what she believed in—equal parts of her belonged to Darth Vader.

Luke had promised to tell her about Vader, about Anakin Skywalker—their true father—but she vowed now, silently to herself and the trees, that she wouldn't have anything to do with what remained of the truth.

Because the truth was that she prided herself on not getting scared easily. But the rage she had felt that night when she was ten, and again on the Death Star, and again on Bespin, it had burned and burned and burned its way through all her defenses. A burning so fierce it had turned cold. And even here, wrapped in the warm embrace of one of Endor's summer nights, she shivered.

The truth was that she would never forget that cold. She would never be able to forget how raw her throat had been after her interrogation on the Death Star. She would never be able to forget the sound of Han's screams as they carried down the halls of Cloud City, or the hum of the Death Star's ray powering up, the tight leather grip on her shoulders, and the slightest shudder in the gleaming floor beneath her feet as Alderaan's explosion made the deadly station waver in its orbit just so.

The truth was Darth Vader was her father and it wasn’t what he had done that scared her so much. What scared her most was what she would see the next time she looked in a mirror.

Seeing Luke, knowing who Luke was, she wasn’t sure if she could find Vader in him at all.

But as the thorny vines tightened around her heart yet again, trying to shield her from this awful truth, trying to protect against that awful burning in her chest, she was afraid that there was far too much Vader in her.

#i basically wrote this in one sitting and there are some tenses that are definitely off but oh well #i just think that leia dealing with vader being her father is something that can be soooo heartbreaking #leia organa #darth vader #mywriting #fanfic #star wars #kenobi spoilers #(just minor ones)#mik chats

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obiwanobi · 3 years

Note

Catch me thinking about sith Anakin who got in a fight w/ Palps (did Palps cross a line? Did Anakin decide he had nothing to lose? Idk), barely managed to win and is now seriously hurting and a little freaked out winding up outside Obi-wan's quarters and Obi-wan doesn't have time to draw his saber let alone figure out how a sith lord managed to get so far into the jedi temple unnoticed and Force is that blood? before Anakin's passing out with only a murmered request for help.

LISTEN you can’t keep sending me perfect prompts, how do you know I can’t resist bloody men on their knees begging for salvation, how do you know me so well??? anyway here’s 2.3k of always-a-sith!Anakin who could have been the new ruler of the empire but said ‘no thanks, this is too much responsibility, I would like to be pampered by my favourite jedi now’ (with a bit of Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan!)

He didn’t mean to kill him.

Well, not at first.

He didn’t mean to kill Sidious, but pulling his lightsaber from his lifeless corpse only felt like complete satisfaction. A weight on his shoulders he didn't know he carried disappeared, letting him stand up above the body of his master— former master, and gaze upon what was left of him. A shapeless form on the ground. A dark cape around an old man playing at being a god. A begging mess of futile promises when he realised it was the end for him.

As mindless fury leaves him, his ragged breathing slows down and his fist unclenches around his saber. Sidious is dead. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, his knees start shaking. His Master is dead. His face is wet with sweat and blood and tears. Dead and now Anakin has no one.

And then... And then fear.

"You know," Ahsoka groans as the water starts boiling, "I don't understand how you got your reputation of Cool Jedi Master. Other padawans think I'm lying when I tell them you wear the ugliest slippers at home and gets excited by new tisanes."

"You gifted me those slippers."

"As a joke. And you still wear them."

"I'm not going to throw away perfectly good slippers." Obi-Wan wiggles his toes under the red and yellow fuzzy monstrosities, just to see his padawan rolls her eyes. "And they're really comfortable."

"So you're just going to stay there, then? Your whole battalion is out celebrating our first day of leave since forever, but you prefer to drink your tea alone and go to bed at 22:00?"

"No one wants an authority figure around when they're letting loose and celebrating, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, pouring hot water in his cup. He raises the kettle towards his padawan as a question, to which she shakes her head. "I thought you would be happy to see me putting sleep before work for once."

"I am, Master, but I thought it could be..." She trails off, fidgeting with the hilt of her sabers. For once, she looks like a typical padawan, just like he was at her age, dying to enjoy one night away from the temple and any kind of responsibilities.

"It's alright my dear," he sighs, "you can join them if you want."

Ahsoka suddenly perks up. "I can?"

"If you're old enough to be sent to the front, I think you can handle yourself for one night on Coruscant."

"Thank you Master! I promise I'll be careful and not come back too late!"

"You do that, and-- wait, Ahsoka," he adds as she's already halfway through the door, "make sure to stay around Cody! And no alcohol of any kind! And don't lose your lightsaber at sabacc again!"

"That was you!" she yells from the end of the corridor, "don't worry, I'll be fine! Don't wait for me to go to bed! Goodnight Master!"

Obi-Wan smiles, blowing on his cup. He already sent a message to Cody earlier to keep an eye on her, so he knows she's in good hands.

He has his herbal tea, his ugly slippers, no reports to read or write, and no immediate Separatist menace to plan for. For once, a perfectly good night to catch up on sleep and meditation.

So, of course, something has to be wrong.

The Force is bright. The Force is lighter than it has ever been for the past few years.

And Obi-Wan can't understand why.

It's not just him that can feel it: Ahsoka has acted chipper since, more like the teenager she is, laughing with the clones and playfully teasing him the whole fly back to Coruscant. The temple has felt livelier than ever when they arrived, Jedi from all ages going about their day with a new spring in their step, greeting each other warmly in the corridors. Even Master Yoda has taken a few minutes during their Council meeting to note the shift in the Force. No Master could pinpoint the origin of this change, but all agreed that something good happened somewhere in the galaxy, and they were just feeling ripples of the effect in the Force.

Still now, the whole temple feels a bit more like it used to, before the war, and all Jedi are a bit happier without knowing why.

Only Obi-Wan feels like a noose tightening around him. Whatever it is, it's slowing making its way around his presence in the Force. Focusing on him and him alone. Doesn't matter how much Obi-Wan tries to hide himself, it's getting closer and never slowing down or losing interest.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

But after almost three years of war, sullen faces and grim expressions, he doesn't feel like dampening the sudden good mood around the Temple just with a few words. He can probably deal with whatever it is by himself.

His tisane is cold when he finally emerges from his meditation. Nothing is clearer than when he started: the Force is deaf to his questions and inquiries, still light as a breeze. An airy unconcern for his restlessness. And yet, a thick pressure still looms around him, getting heavier each passing second now.

His fingers start pulling on his collar.

The clock on the wall indicates that he lied to Ahsoka when he said he was going to bed at a respectable time today. No diurnal Jedi would still be up right now, but he still considers going out to knock at Mace's door. Narrowed eyes and a very long sigh will be his first answer, but Obi-Wan knows that Mace would never refuse to hear him out. Yes, he finally decides when the pressure seems to creep even closer to him, it's worth waking up Mace.

He opens his door, wondering if he should take his robe with him, and instantly stops walking.

There, in the empty corridor of the Jedi Temple, at his door and on his knees, is a Sith. He knows it's a Sith only because he recognises this specific mass of hair, the large shoulders, the dishevelled dark robe. He knows it's a Sith because he has crossed path with this one enough times on the battlefield to recognise him anywhere. Outside of it a few times too. He isn't sure it's a Sith when the Sith raises his head up, bloody and bruised face torn in an agonizing expression, and his eyes are blue.

"I— I didn't know where to go," Darth Vader says quietly, with the kind of voice expected from a lost child. It gives Obi-Wan a second shock to hear his voice, making his presence suddenly real. "You said... You said if I ever wanted to, if I needed help one day, you would— I could—"

Obi-Wan remembers it. He remembers all the times he offered his help. His pleas for him to stop the violence, the appeals to reason, the multiple suggestions of a gentler path. His hand continuously outreached but never taken. He remembers the burning gold of the Sith's eyes too, and his black cape floating above the dead clones at his feet.

His laughter the first time Obi-Wan brought up the idea of lowering their blades and talking around a cup of tea. His sneer the third time Obi-Wan tried to change his misconceptions about the Jedi Order and play-flirt with him in the same breath. The silence the fifth time Obi-Wan asked him his name, his real name, the one a parent gave him.

The tears the last time he gave it to him.

"And you're always trying to save me," Vader adds more forcefully now, like the words anger him, "you're always here, showing up almost every time I'm sent somewhere with your stupid smile and stupid words, and you're always nice, and... and teasing, and disappointed when I kill someone, like you expect me to be better, and I don't understand you, but..."

Vader raises his hand towards him, and it's only this sudden move that shakes Obi-Wan out of his stupor. Before the Sith can touch his leg, Obi-Wan calls his lightsaber to him, ignites it in one fluid motion, half-expecting Vader to be up and swaying his saber in his face by now. But the Sith is still on his knees, and it's only now that the blue light of his blade is above him that Obi-Wan realises the state he's in. His face isn't the only thing bruised and battered: his dark tunic is stained with blood and ripped in more than one place, one of his arms is bent in an unnatural way, and it looks like a cut above his hairline is still bleeding, making his curls stick to his face in a mess of wet hair and burned skin.

"Vader," Obi-Wan says slowly, when his thoughts finally regain a semblance of coherence. A rapid investigation through the Force assures him that no other enemy is around and the calm and quiet of the night in the Temple isn't a prequel for a storm. "How did you get in here? What are you doing here? How—"

Vader's hand, stuck in the space between them, reaches once again for Obi-Wan. Foolishly, Obi-Wan lets him. His fingers twist themselves in the fabric of his pants.

"He made me killed them all.” Vader wobbles on his knees for a second, the hand on Obi-Wan's leg gripping it tighter. “No platoons, no battle droids. Just me. He sent me to the power station and I cut through them so easily, so quickly, they didn't even fight back, and I didn't think that..." he trails off, panting. "Until.... until I saw the electro-whips."

"Are you talking about Naphtla?" he asks when Vader doesn't seem to be able to continue.

Naphtla. Outer Rim. Barely on the Republic radar until this afternoon, when nearby troops answered a distress signal and found a hidden Separatist power station operated by slaves. A third of them were dead, killed only a few hours before, and the survivors turned to the Republic for immediate support. Slaughtered like animals, the rescue team reported to the Council only a few hours ago, by one single man wielding a red lightsaber. According to witnesses, the darksider cut through the slaves like bantha butter, killing everyone in his path without discrimination, until he stopped for no apparent reason and abruptly left.

"You were the one who killed the people at the station there," Obi-Wan realises out loud, horrified, "the slaves from Zygerria."

Vader snaps his head up and his fingers tighten painfully around Obi-Wan's knee. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

All Obi-Wan's senses and logical thoughts urge him to back out, put an end to this nonsensical charade, raise his lightsaber between them, get away from the dark, hungry void Vader generates in the Force.

But his eyes are looking up to him. Gripping his gaze with the same intensity as his hand on his leg. Bloodied face and pleading, on his knees. Full of tears.

Obi-Wan doesn't push Vader's hand away.

"I didn't know they were slaves, I didn't!"

"Vader."

"He never said! He sent me without telling him, he knows I don't—" A small noise sounding suspiciously like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

"Vader, who sent—"

"When I came back," he tries again, quieter. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask about this he, but Vader's head lolls for a second, too heavy to support, before butting gently against Obi-Wan's leg. Vader makes no effort to move, content to stay there, and after a second, a small, almost timid nuzzle against his thigh sends a series of shivers through Obi-Wan's spine. It shuts him up instantly. "When I came back, he looked at me for so, so long, before saying that he knew, he knew I was going to fail, that I was... just like them after all, and that I could never... And I was so mad, so angry at him, so I... I..."

The last words are muffled by the fabric Vader clings to. Hides into. There's blood on Obi-Wan's pants now.

"What have you done, Vader?" Obi-Wan asks, softer than he intended. "Vader," he asks again when no reply comes, without success. The hand not holding his lightsaber moves, hesitates for a moment, then settles lightly on Vader's hair, mindful not to touch any open wounds. His fingers nudge him to tip his head back, gently, carefully, and settle on his cheek to hold his face up, looking at him. "Anakin." His name, his true name, makes him blink a few times. "Anakin, what have you done?"

"I killed him," he finally admits, barely audible. He looks exhausted, more like a child in need of rest than ever.

"Who did you kill?"

"My master."

"Dooku? You killed Dooku?"

"No," Vader— Anakin frowns, like Obi-Wan should know better. "Sidious."

It's a bit much to process in one day. Another Sith Lord, Vader's master, concealed and kept a secret, now dead, killed by his apprentice —and does that make Vader the ruling Sith Lord now? Do Sith have rulers?— the lightness in the Force the same day, a half-dead Vader begging for help in the middle of the night in the Jedi Temple, and all of that while Obi-Wan is still wearing his ugly slippers.

He's so glad he sent Ahsoka away for the night.

Anakin doesn't let him time to feel the migraine coming.

"I can't do it, I can't be my master, I can't— and Dooku hates me, he will never help me, even if I let him have it all, he will never..." Vader seems to run out of steam, and lets his eyes close as his head falls once again against Obi-Wan's thigh. Closer. "You said you could help me. You said I could come to you at any time. You said you would always be there if I didn't want to... do this, anymore."

"I did," Obi-Wan assures him, his hand lightly petting his hair again.

Anakin lets out a long breath. His fingers tighten on the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants, loosen, and tighten again.

"You're the only one I trust," the Sith quietly tells the Jedi, and it's the saddest thing Obi-Wan has ever heard.

#appleslakesandeuchre #(I changed the end of your prompt a bit I hope it’s fine with you)#asks #obikin #clem's aus #fic i will never write #always a sith anakin au #ahsoka the next morning is HORRIFIED to find a sith on the couch #like 'I knew you had a huge soft spot for him but really master? REALLY?'#obi-wan 'shh don't raise your voice at him'#fic i did write

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masterwords · 2 years

Text

pictures of trickery

Summary: While perusing Madame Bouvier's shop, the smell of sage stirs up panic in Hotch. (Mr. Scratch aftermath, sort of.)

Warnings: panic attack, blood, memories, death (canon imagined), fear, food

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3.6k

Notes: 50 Type of Kisses Prompt #38 - Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss. This is @whump-town's fault. It's a lot of sweet but that always comes at a price with me.

Read on AO3: Pictures of Trickery

The sunlight made him feel almost euphoric, the way it seeped into his sinews and propelled him full of life down the crowded sidewalk. Jack's hand bumped against his every now and then, they moved close, in synch and he had to bite down the urge to grab the boy's hand in his...he was too old for that now, and his palm ached with the emptiness it left behind. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to this growing up business. Jack's proximity to him would have to be enough, and just as he was settling into the knowledge, Jack perked up at the sight of his favorite coffee shop and suddenly then he was grabbing Aaron's hand in his and dragging him inside.

“Jack,” Aaron had only a moment to complain before they were inside, and he couldn't fathom pulling him back out. “We're meeting Derek for lunch with Henry and his family. We don't need anything.”

“Just a drink, please dad?” He wanted an Italian soda; Aaron already knew exactly what he was going to order. He could never remember the silly name of it but the shocking electric blue would leave Jack's mouth the same color for hours after, his sugary breath smelling like coconut syrup and something vaguely fruity. He'd find the toothpaste in Jack's sink neon at bed time and shudder.

“A small one,” he agreed, finally. That was all it took before Jack was chirping his order at the barista followed by his dad's boring Earl Grey. No sugar, no milk, just hot leaf water as he and Derek liked to call it. He was nothing if not predictable, a man with simple but particular tastes. Emily had pulled him from his chamomile obsession recently with a package from London studded with new teas, and though he'd tested each of them prior, something in the Earl Gray struck him and became, for a time, all he would consider.

Her boxes of tea were the fulfillment of some strange love language the two of them shared, piquing the other's interest with just a taste and running away cunningly into the shadows knowing the madness that would consume them.

This was not something Derek enjoyed, but he'd come to realize he had no control over it.

Back on the street, drinks in hand, Jack pulled him along into any store that caught his fancy. Shopping usually set him on edge but the wide expanse of blue sky with its fluffy cotton candy clouds floating leisurely by brightened his senses. The scent of spring hung on the breeze, crisp and new, like creation was sparking and coiling around them. Roots moving slowly beneath pavement, ready to spring up in the gaps with tiny patches of green amid the sea of gray.

“Jack,” he announced, an air of wistful ease in his voice as his eyes lighted on a sight that startled him. He hadn't realized where they'd wandered, turn after turn while his tea warmed his fingers, until suddenly his feet wouldn't take another step. “This is where I got your Darth Vader costume. Do you want to see inside?”

The excitement was almost palpable as Jack agreed, slurping the last of the whipped cream neon drink from his cup. He'd imagined the shop a million times from his father's description, it was solid, a thing he almost thought he could reach into his father's mind and touch. Here it was and it was perfect. Maybe a little different from the outside, of course; there was no thunder, no rain, no umbrella but he could smell the rain and he could feel it splashing beneath his feet if he closed his eyes. There was a mythology he'd built up that his father was clueless to. He reached for the door handle before Aaron could grab it, pulled it open and felt a rush of warm spiced air envelop his senses.

“Be right with you,” called a velvet rich voice from somewhere deep in the belly of the shop. He squinted until he was just able to make out the figure of Madame Bouvier who offered a coy little wave and gestured for them to have a look around. It was dark, the light from the windows obscured by filmy curtains draped with care over lit candles. Fire hazard, Aaron thought with a bemused smile. “Make yourselves at home.”

They did, as much as Aaron wouldn't have minded just standing in the doorway. Jack wasn't happy just to stay put, so he hooked his small hand into Aaron's and pulled him toward the far corner to begin hunting through dusty old bottles of dried herbs and tinctures, oils that smelled so potent it assaulted his senses immediately. There were old-timey labels for medications no longer marketable, certainly not FDA approved, a collection of bottles with spoiled amber liquid and dusty pills that hearkened to another time. Jack poked at a box of trinkets, small gold chains and rings, jewels and lockets.

“Dad is that a real skull?”

“Looks like it,” he muttered, leaning forward to peer at it curiously. He'd seen enough of them in his lifetime that it held no real shock, whether it was real or fake was all one in the same. Still, he found himself wondering at the mystery in the life it once held. Most likely mundane, some piece of kitsch acquired through some theatrical sale or a university science lab no doubt. Those empty sockets peered back at him, accusing him in their depths of being just as mundane. What makes you so special? We all end up reduced to our minerals, it seemed to say to him, and he smiled at the thought.

The jingle of the shop's bells released him from the silent conversation and he glanced up to find Madame Bouvier clearing her supplies from the table. A small pile of shimmering rocks and crystals scooped up in gentle hands, placed with such reverence and care into a tarnished silver box. Amazonite, Red Jasper, Lapis Lazuli, Amethyst, Hematite, Tiger Eye all set against pillowy velvet to await their next patron.

“I thought I'd scared you off, G-Man,” she mused, sauntering over toward the shelves where they stood admiring her wares. Readching up, she placed the tin in a rectangle space marked, free of dust, back where it belonged. “Are you here for your reading, then?”

Aaron cleared his throat and smiled, shaking his head. “It's Aaron, and no...not today. We were wandering in the neighborhood and I thought Jack might like to meet you.”

“A happy accident then?" She let her eyes linger on the figure he cut, a stark contrast to the night she'd first met him in his tailored suit and tie. Now just a dad in a sweater and blue jeans, his hair a little messy, his sharp features softened. "So this is the famed Jack. How did that costume go over, sweetie?”

“Everyone loved it!” Jack couldn't hide the excitement in his voice and didn't even try. He was so like Haley, Aaron thought. So easily he wore his heart on his sleeve, let the world know when he was happy or sad. “It was so cool.”

“Well,” she said, flicking a lock of violet hair over her shoulder. “My name is Estelle, and you boys are welcome here anytime. Would you excuse me while I finish cleaning up this mess?”

She didn't wait for an answer, just went back to busying herself with the items scattered on her small reading table. A deck of tarot cards, a couple of large clear crystals, a small pile of ash that Aaron assumed had at one point been responsible for the heady aroma of sandalwood that hung in the air.

Jack hurried over to where she busied herself and began asking questions about what each thing was, what it meant. The slab or amethyst was heavy in his hand and he admired it closely, the rivers of milky white flowing through the lavender and mauve. This was all so new to him, he couldn't help but devour every new sight and sound and scent. Aaron watched as she pulled out a battered wooden box, inside of which sat a clump of dried sage bundled into a log. There was a flash of recognition, benign as it were, of having held something similar one dark and dreary night. At the sight of her lighter, he felt the course of electricity in his hands, remembered the lights flickering before his eyes and without warning what had once been nothing but a very simple memory became something threatening and powerful. The smell, thick and herbal, made him feel woozy, his vision tunneling until the light was nothing but vague pinpricks. He swayed where he stood, reached out to place a hand on a shelf nearby to steady himself. His hand, now against the dusty wood, felt tingly like he could feel each blood cell burst and become static beneath his skin. He blinked, squeezed his eyes shut and counted to three before opening them again, forcing himself to know that he was safe, he was in a shop, nothing was happening to him and nothing would happen. Still, there was that damnable warm and wet feeling on his cheeks that said he hadn't caught himself fast enough. They were hot stinging tears; his eyes felt so full they'd be forced to release the cascade soon and the worst of it was not being able to offer a viable reason for this outburst.

It took almost no time for Madame Bouvier to recognize the change in his demeanor, she caught the movement of his hands palming the tears from his cheeks and handed the sage to Jack, instructed him to wave it slowly around the chair. As she approached Aaron, the scent became stronger and he almost recoiled from her, throwing his forearm over his nose. She realized what the problem was though she lacked any real understanding and without hesitation turned on her heel and thanked Jack for helping her. The sage, soon in her own hand, was stubbed out and she waved it to disperse the scent, rid the place faster of its potency. She handed the smoldering hunk of leaves to Jack and asked him to take it outside, let the remaining smoke loom in the doorway to get rid of any latent bad feelings. Clever, Aaron thought, trying to pull himself together to no avail. He was losing his grip on his heartbeat as it crept up and up, until he could feel it in his throat.

“What's the matter?” she asked in a whisper and beneath the layers of his sweater, her hand resting now against his bicep, she could feel him trembling.

“I need...” he stammered in a voice so thin, so pale it was almost like smoke. “Fresh air. Excuse me.” He glanced toward Jack, reached out to touch him as he put the sage back into the box, his back still turned to his father. He intended to pull him outside, to take him away from the store, far away from that smell. Her hand found his, stopped him just before he reached Jack and pulled him back.

“You go. I'll give him a tour, maybe a reading...we'll have some fun. Set yourself right.”

There really wasn't a reason for him to trust her like he did, leave his son in her care after just exchanging first name pleasantries but he found his feet stumbling for the door nonetheless. Into the glaring sunlight, through the sage thick doorway and onto the sidewalk just him and his burning tears. It would be cooler in the shadows, a refuge from the too bright sun. He sought out the shade of the alley, fleeing the floral warm breeze out on the street, his senses needed the calm and the quiet. He could feel the thunder of his blood rushing in his head, beating like a bass drum so loud that the sounds of the city paled in comparison. Down the alley he walked until he was obscured from sight of passersby, tucked beside a dumpster and a rickety old chair someone took their smoke breaks on. His chest hurt, it was stiff and tight, the pain intense enough that he dropped to his knees just short of the chair. Gravel dug into his flesh through his pants, small flecks of glass from a broken bottle nearby catching the light and he pushed his forehead against the wall. Gasping for breath, hoping for release, he sucked at the foul-smelling alley air thick with decay and detritus.

With his eyes closed, he watched Derek die on the floor in front of him. Right there, thick crimson blood shimmering in a pool around his perfect head. His last look at Aaron was one of accusation, you killed us all, no love in those eyes. His hand, once filled with so much strength and warmth, once used to hold him in the throes of passion, now gripped at his ruined throat to no avail, the life had already seeped entirely out of the gaping wound. He could see it, smell the blood, feel it on his own face and he cried out. His hand pressed into the wall, scraping against tender palms to try and ground himself in reality. Derek was not in front of him dead, he was out running trails through a nature preserve with JJ. Pounding the pavement beneath a canopy of fresh bright green and soon they'd all be eating lunch together and smiling. He knew all of this, but the scene that played endlessly on a loop behind his closed eyes was one of terror and not subject to his frail grip on reality. He thought he was past this, months had gone by without a sound from these false memories but they felt as vivid as ever.

Over the din of the cars and mixed with the mewling of feral cats nosing around in the dumpster for discarded treats he could hear Rossi's life sputter out of him, further away he could hear JJ cry out that Spencer was down. Her terrified voice echoed in his ears with such ferocity it momentarily drowned out the sounds of the city and he was trapped in its vibrations. Clawing his way to breath, to reality, the thunderous hammer of his heart in its cage threatened to split him wide open. Her voice was as real as all of that and yet in a cruel twist of fate, he knew that none of it was real. Knew it was smoke and mirrors, an image placed there by a mad man.

Minutes or hours, no time at all seemed to pass while he knelt there in the alley but eventually it began to fade. The false darkness lost its edges and the real world solidified around him. The images of that house, of Peter Lewis' ripper smile began to lose their shape before his eyes and suddenly he could see only a sea of brick. His lungs expanded painfully in his chest and took in one huge breath of the foul stink of the alley for what it was: urine, stale beer, cigarette butts. He was glad for all of it, fetid and sharp, the way it burned his nose, because it was not blood and it was not death.

Looming in the window for a moment, he watched Jack's bright face smiling, his hand in Madame Bouvier's. She was tracing lines in his small palm, leaning forward to share the secrets of his future with him and Aaron hoped it was as happy as it looked from the outside. He knew with some certainty that his palm would offer no such thrill. He'd lived enough of his own life to know what those lines would say. He breathed, standing there in the in-between, half real and half specter before regaining enough strength to walk inside. Once inside he felt a strange pull, nausea deep in his aching belly. The sage still lingered but it was buried deep beneath something sweet, vanilla and jasmine, cloying and floral. The sage crept into his senses but it was so faint he was able to push past it, give it no more attention. It settled there beneath the surface, threatening yet quiet.

“Dad!” Jack exclaimed, leaping from his chair. He began rattling off a number of wild items he'd been told may happen in his life, all of which Aaron's practical side would challenge vehemently but he couldn't see the harm right now. Maybe later, when the thrill of the moment had passed, he could settle his son's anticipation of things yet to come with some levelheadedness. For now, he barely possessed the energy to stand, let alone speak. Taking stock of the way he seemed to sway as he stood, Estelle guided him to Jack's open chair and sat him down, brought him a glass of water and found her warm palm resting against the back of his neck. Touch, something he had no idea how to process and would normally try to get away from, he found pleasant in the moment. Not offensive in the very least, and he let her keep her hand there. It was calm, anchored him in place while he sipped the cold water over his sandpaper tongue. His chest ached, his breathing was labored and slow, but he kept quiet and focused on the water. Jack watched his father curiously, knew better than to ask. His father, like Madame Bouvier's shop, was full of mystery and sometimes mystery wasn't such a bad thing. He was intrigued enough to study him, but questions only got in the way. Sometimes he asked the wrong thing, got nowhere near what he was actually looking for and had learned instead to receive his gift in abundance through quiet contemplation.

“Let's go meet Derek and JJ at the restaurant,” Aaron said finally, his voice nothing more than a forced gust of air through seized lungs. A death rattle over living lips. “We're running a little late.”

Jack helped scoop up the last of the crystals on the table, quietly naming each one he'd just learned about as Madame Bouvier extended her hand to his father, helped him up to his feet. He pretended not to see how weak his father looked, trusting it would pass.

“I'm starting to think I'll always be waiting on you...” she mused, examining his hand now that she had it at her disposal. He offered a weak, sheepish smile that took just about every reserve of energy he had built up.

“I promise I'll come back.” He meant it, for what it was worth. He had no desire to have his palm read, he didn't buy into any of the healing powers of crystals, but he liked her and it really was that simple. She'd saved him and his son twice now, he owed her that much.

At the restaurant, a walk that took twice as long as it should have on legs that didn't want to move, his first glimpse of Derek and JJ stole the breath from his lungs. A flash, a blink, bright red and the vision was gone. Will and Henry were playing a game of napkin football while JJ and Derek talked animatedly, their hands flying and saying just as much as their mouths. Aaron smiled automatically at the sight and felt the tightness that lingered in his chest uncoil just a little. At their approach, Derek stood and shoved Jack into the booth, toppling the kid over in a fit of laughter. Aaron stood, stiff and painfully before Derek, staring a little too long, a little too hard, as if he was testing whether or not the being before him was solid. Derek frowned, he'd seen this look before.

“You okay?” he asked, taking the shopping bags from Aaron's hands and sliding them beneath the table. As he stood back up, Aaron touched his hand, testing his sight, and Derek could almost feel the desperation and fear in his fingertips. “Hey. What happened out there?” It was just a walk, just some shopping, Jack's lips were blue and he was riding a sugar rush...he couldn't see any reason for this behavior and yet here it was.

“Nothing,” he whispered, and without consideration for where they were or the company they were in, he leaned forward. With eyes full of despair, welling with fresh tears, he kissed Derek reverently on the lips. Lightning quick and light. “I love you,” he whispered, basking in Derek's confusion and warmth, his fingers still dusting the back of Derek's hand seeking the smallest of connections. Derek smiled, shaking his head.

“I love you too, silly. Now sit your ass down so we can order, I'm starving.”

He had no idea what spooked Aaron so terribly, rattled him to his core, but he couldn't indulge it here, he knew that much. Aaron wouldn't say a word, was already trying his best to hide whatever he'd already given away behind stony features. He pushed Aaron into the booth first, squished him between he and Jack, and watched as he greeted their friends. Their eyes darted from Aaron to Derek, concerned but met with a quick dismissive shake of Derek's head...don't ask, he wanted to say. Don't ask, move on. They scooted until their thighs touched, and Derek rested his hand there heavily, squeezed him in the tender ticklish spot right above his knee. Aaron listened to JJ and Will across the table, relishing how calm she sounded, her real voice above the panicked shouting version in his head. The table quickly smelled like maple syrup and bacon, and slowly his body became forgetful, letting go of the sensations of the burning sage and the alley. He breathed in deep, sipping his molten black coffee happily. A smile danced on his lips, and Derek gave his thigh one more playful squeeze before he set both hands to the business of eating and enjoying the company of their friends.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #madame bouvier #jack hotchner #jennifer jj jareau #will lamontagne

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Headcanons for spending Halloween with Peter and Ned

Peter Parker/Ned Leeds x reader

warnings:

a/n:💕

prompt: anonymous: “If it's not too much to ask could you do headcanons for spending Halloween with Ned Leeds and Peter Parker? Hope you have an awesome day”

“IT’S FUCKING SPOOKY SEASON”

“y/n’s here”

“yep”

halloween was so exciting with them!

you insisted on being spiderman

“no, y/n, you can’t wear any of my old suits”

“please, peter! im begging you”

you were so close to getting him to crack

but you bought your own cheap spider-man costume

ned was a sith lord

“which lightsaber should i use? my darth vader one? or the custom-built one? or my deluxe one? the walmart one? maybe my dueling saber?”

“ned stop flexing”

peter, exactly like this: SHAHGSGSGSGSHHSFV

may wanted to have a halloween party with peter’s friends and happy

“honestly, may? that’s the best idea ever i will help with everything if i have to”

“you think so? wow, y/n, we need to have you over more often. you’re the only one who supports me in this household”

🙃 -peter

“guys, we have to make this one count! i think we should trick or treat in liz’s old neighborhood”

“ned, no! do you want to see peter cry his halloween makeup off?”

peter went as batman but you wanted to make him look perfect so you put SO much eyeliner on him

“i look like mr. barnes”

“if i ever meet him i’m telling him you said that”

“DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?!”

there was almost no point in going out for the night just bc may had made so many halloween snacks

chocolate covered pretzels with sprinkles, those AMAZING walmart pumpkin cookies, “spooky” root beer floats (she just drew faces on red solo cups), and healthy snacks!!!

“the scariest thing here is the celery” -ned

*grabs celery* “anything is a weapon if you try hard enough”

“y/n, put it down!”

parading around in your halloween costumes out and about until may was 100% done with her halloween stuff

“let’s go get MJ!”

“you think?” -peter

“yeah, she’ll hate this, it’ll be fun”

mj slammed to door on you guys

“we should try again”

she came back out dressed as the devil and she seemed very content with her choice

“so what’s the plan”

“peter’s aunt is having a party, spider-friends only”

“wow, y/n, say that a little louder, why don’t you?” -peter

going back to the apartment where you watched the shining and ate all of the snack may so kindly offered

peter was blocking his eyes for half the movie

“really, peter? you’ve never seen this movie before?” -happy

“too scary”

you handed him a pillow to hold onto

mj was fucking thriving over here

“can i have another pretzel?”

“of course you can!” -may

mj had to go home and may went to be early and happy left but you and ned were spending the night at peter’s cuz it was the right thing to do

you ended up falling asleep at 5am following hours of watching ghost stories and peter not being able to sleep after that

“peter, aren’t you like, a superhero? what’s a ghost gonna do to you?”

“ghosts belong to a different plane of existence, i’m completely helpless to them. don’t fall asleep before me”

the next morning afternoon, peter, you, and ned rushed to the store to get as much discount candy as you could acquire and split it amongst yourselves

“this halloween has been a success, i look forward to what next year has to bring”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

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capricornus-rex · 3 years

Text

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (9)

Chapter 9: His Ward | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: Hi guys, I’m really sorry for taking so long to post! I’m going through something and it’s taking quite a toll on my emotional health. I can’t brush it off that easily of course, but I’m trying my best to not let it devour me and ruin my routines and habits entirely. I still try to write, but my breakdown episodes are taking too much of my time during the day and I hate for just deciding to sleeping it off—though, it actually helps, plus a good cry. I’m sorry for rambling like this, but I’m not in slump just yet and I hope this situation of mine isn’t gonna drag me into one. I hope you all have been liking the story, if you do, I super duper appreciate it as always! Also, I’ll get back on the tag games you guys have put me in as well! They look super fun!

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 | Previous: Part 7 | Next: Part 10 | Masterlist

10 of ?

You are weak…

Incompetent…

Incapable of taking care of a child, what more if two?

An ominous, heavy voice burdened these words to Owen. The man felt paralyzed in his own bed. His knees and elbows locked in place, his calves and arms frozen stiff, and his lungs tight and narrow. He had hoped Beru would be woken up by his squirming and help him out of whatever is happening to him right now.

But his wife was nowhere to be found.

Owen found himself surrounded in darkness, standing in the middle of nowhere and nothing. He feared if this was purgatory. After he had spun a considerable amount of times just to orient himself on where he is and what is going on, the voice took shape—a towering figure armored in black, with his wife and nephew suspended between them while they’re on their knees. Owen could feel his heart sink to the soles of his feet and his legs were failing to hold his balance.

And for that, you shall pay the price of your negligence!

The sharp, ragged ignition of a lightsaber brandished through Beru’s breast and she fell right then and there. There was almost no death cry. Beru was mute as she jolted from the final sensation through her body and slumped to the dust, without waiting for the woman’s corpse to touch the soil, the beam swung sideways to poor, little Luke.

The boy had a death cry, albeit short it was haunting and gut-wrenching, and his cry faded out as he fell to the floor next to his aunt. Owen, in that dream state, was frozen in place. He wasn’t bound to the floor or anything, he was simply incapable of moving. The only thing he can do is watch—as penance imposed by the tall, monstrous figure brandishing a red sword made of light.

“NO!”

Owen sat up screaming and awake. He’s quite lucky they have no neighbors, but the creatures in the desert might have heard him, maybe even old Ben Kenobi in the off-chance that he’s out in the dunes at night.

“Owen!” Beru gasped, woken up by her husband’s nightmarish episode. “Owen, it was a dream!”

“Oh gods!” her husband gasped, clutching his chest so tight that his shirt crumpled. When he realized that it was indeed a dream, he cupped Beru at the neck so tightly that he almost choked her. “Oh, Beru!”

“Owen, dear…” she sighed, unable to comfort her husband.

It’s been only two nights since Irele disappeared, and the toll has already taken her brother.

–

Irele was brought immediately to the command ship when the transport boarded its hangar. She was thrown into a cell unconscious; hours have passed when she came to. Her body was disturbed by the sudden change in temperature, she was more conditioned for warm, temperate climates. The inorganic, air-conditioned room was an unpleasant surprise for her nerves.

She patted herself in different parts of her body to see where it hurts. Nothing. She was completely unscathed—except, of course, the few light scrapes and bruises she got during her hallucinogenic episode though they were nothing she can’t brush off and heal from.

“Where am I?” she asked to no one in particular.

She looked at the door and saw that it was a solid blast door; the small rectangular window that could only frame the eyes was sealed shut, there was no way of telling if there was someone on the other side of the door.

“Hello?” she knocked on the door, it was worth a shot, she thought.

She said it again, the knocking had gotten louder.

Irritated, the guard outside the cell banged the door with the pommel of his blaster.

“Quiet!” his voice was muffled through the helmet, but the manner of his speaking was sharp and strict. The sudden loud clang startled Irele, forcing her back to the slab that stuck out of the wall that’s meant to be her bed.

She stands up again to walk back to the door, to get some answers from the guard.

“Where am I?” she slapped the door, prompting for answer. “Hey!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

“Ugh, you know you’re making the noise twice as worse,” a second guard groaned, though more indifferent towards the prisoner, as well as his companion.

“The little brat won’t shut up.”

“She’ll shut up when Lord Vader comes in,”

“Can’t expect him to come any sooner, can I?”

“Maybe you can turn up in his chambers and tell him yourself,” the second guard chuckled, quite amused by his own snark.

“Yeah, whatever,” the first guard said dryly, completely feeling the opposite.

Overhearing their small talk, Irele picked up the name and tried to familiarize herself with it. Lord Vader? She pondered. But she’s never heard of it. Understandably so, even upon the establishment of the Empire, Tatooine remained uninvolved with the affairs of the now Galactic Empire—as it was in the prime days of the Republic.

Even if the name never rung a bell, she found herself shivering—both by the cold and by the imminent confrontation of this unknown entity that she already fears.

A uniformed crew marches to Darth Vader’s personal chambers. From Vader’s end, the door to his room opened and the cadet let himself in after the Sith Lord allowed him.

“My Lord, the prisoner has come to,”

“Very well. Leave her to me, I’ll deal with her myself,”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

“Go.”

The cadet bowed and his lungs loosened. He had puffed up his chest for a minute or two after leaving the chambers. Darth Vader stood up from his shell and strode regally out of his room; it was not an uncommon sight to find the lord of this ship wandering alone without an escort or two.

Vader made way to the prison block, where the teenage captive would be doing nothing except sit and wait. He isn’t expecting her to recognize him, though he almost wished his did—at least the human part of his being. The door shot open; Irele—seated at the very center of the slab—threw her back flat against the wall. She hasn’t even gotten a good view of Vader and she was already terrified. He had to bow his head before presenting the hulk of his height in his cybernetic body.

Irele’s breathing skipped a rhythm. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, she has never seen anything quite like him. The sound of his breathing made her pupils dilate.

I see him in my nightmares… Irele thought.

Her heart dropped to her stomach when she heard him speak.

“I have been looking for you, child.”

Vader could clearly see that Irele was just utterly petrified. She may not realize it, but their gazes lock—even with the two bulbous globes where his eyes should be obstruct his own—he could clearly see his little sister: his truest next-of-kin. He saw the way her hands latched onto whatever surface it could grab on the metal wall, and goodness did they shake! He remained indifferent—he tried to be.

“W-Where am I?” the poor, shaken girl shuddered.

“That is of no importance.”

“But I’m so far away from home…!” she couldn’t bring herself to raise her voice, only to speak up a bit. “What did I do wrong?”

The dark lord answered none of those questions, but perhaps he could answer the next one.

“Who are you?”

“Your new master. You shall be my ward.”

To Irele, that declaration didn’t sound as ominous as she had hoped; yet, her heart sank when she realized that she’s now bound to this dark lord. In whatever word he paints it to be, she is his prisoner, and she will be here for a very long time. Another pill that’s hard to swallow for her is that she must remain tight-lipped about her family’s whereabouts for the rest of the time she’s here—which is probably forever.

Not realizing she didn’t actively react to this, Darth Vader had been suspended in silence for a few moments.

“You seem unsettled.”

“I don’t know this place. I don’t know you really are, either. The only thing I want right now is to go home. My friends might be looking for me.” She bit her tongue after that last one, keeping mum about her family if ever this lord will hunt them down after the slightest shortcoming.

“This is your new home now… Irele.”

Irele could not accept it. She looked around: nothing in this place is nowhere near to be called home! This is a prison that Vader is desperately convincing the girl to see it as one, to accept it as one.

“It would be wise if you do not object, child. My leniency could only go so far.”

Behind him, the door opened to let inside a black orb with silver apparatus, it hovered into the cell while its internals hummed. The floating globe’s most prominent appendage would be the syringe protruding from its left-hand side; Irele spotted a drop of liquid dangling at the edge of the needle’s tip.

Again, she pressed herself harder against the wall as soon as she caught the glint of the needle under the light of her cell. She tried to scream, but even opening her mouth felt like a laborious feat, so all she could do was taking deep yet short breaths as the droid approached her. The arm with the syringe extended to angle itself better. Vader watched from the far corner of the cell—incapable of helping his sister—and imposing a penance of sorts on himself, to torment him over the fact that even if he had all the means to do so, he is constrained from any sort of humane thing to do to at least ease off the pain from Irele.

The prick of the needle was slow, long, and agonizing. Vader could see Irele’s right arm tensing, shaking uncontrollably, and her hand violently jerking sideways. He saw the liquid leave the syringe and enter Irele’s bloodstreams, but the droid made it sure that it was equally tormenting. Irele tried to fight but the substance had temporarily paralyzed her. She threw her head back, slamming against the wall, and with a great effort she lolled her head to Vader…

A tear escaped from the corner of her red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes; her mouth trembled opened to release a grunt that should have been a cry of pain. The look in her face was a plead for mercy or of help—even by a miracle. She looked to the one and only person who could stop this, and there he watched within the blackness of the room, her cry was replied with nothing but Vader’s rhythmic breathing as he stood there and watched. Even with a helmet on, if one could see closely, he was in an irredeemable state of regret for remaining a bystander in Irele’s moment of suffering.

She must learn to live with this… Otherwise, she may not live at all. He reinforced himself, albeit quite a twisted mindset.

The interrogation droid had pulled out the injection. The pinprick drew blood and Irele only had the clothes on her back to clog the bleeding. Weakened by the shock and pain, she melted to the slab and fell unconscious.

He turns to leave the cell, the droid followed, and quickly sealed Irele in. The guards straightened their backs at the sight of their master and awaited his orders. With a raised finger, he commanded them to ready a personal bunker filled with all necessities like new clothes for Irele.

“By the time the substance wears off, see to it that she is brought to the medical bay immediately. I want her in optimum shape if she is to be subjected to training in due time.”

Training? The uniformed men thought.

No questions were actually asked, for Vader strode away back to his chambers, and left the guards to do what is asked of them.

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helplessly-nonstop · 4 years

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I Won’t Say I’m in Love (SkySolo imagine)

Well while I was doing a Star Wars marathon, this fic just happened to pop into my mind and refused to let go so here we are. An imagine full of angst and fluff. Godspeed to your emotions, my nerds.

Word Count: 3996

Warnings: angst, cursing, fluff so sweet your teeth will rot, Han is a jealous bastard and Lando knows it too, Leia and Chewie just want Han to quit pining over Luke and admit his feelings

Han Solo does not catch feelings, no matter how many times Chewie would insist otherwise. And he has not caught feelings for some blue eyed, blond Jedi wise ass. But if that was the truth, then why wouldn’t his heart stop fluttering anytime he saw Luke Skywalker?

Going back for him when he was in trouble at the Death Star was his first mistake. If Han truly wanted to distance himself and not catch feelings for this kid from Tatooine, he should have followed through and not saved his ass from Darth Vader. But Han Solo was a weak, weak man for a pretty smile.

Han’s second mistake was showing the kid how to properly play in snow. Luke had grown up on Tatooine with sand covering every inch of the planet, even in places that it didn’t belong. So when they arrived on Hoth, Han could see the wonder in his blue eyes at the snowy terrain. His heart clenched at Luke’s small smile then he muttered, “Never cared much for this kinda cold.”

Leia stepped beside the young Jedi and glanced over the blond as she said, “It reminds me of the mountains back home. I haven’t seen snow in what feels like forever.”

“I’ve never seen it before. I-I always wanted to. And now… it’s just so white out here.” Luke murmured, his eyes wide with his delight. Han gave a chuckle and wrapped his arm around his shoulders before he stated, “Better stay wrapped up, kid. It’s too cold out here for those rags you call robes.”

Luke swatted him away weakly then replied, “Shut up, they’re not rags! They’re comfortable!” The taller man gave a laugh and ruffled the Jedi’s hair as he chimed, “You’ll freeze if you don’t wear an actual coat, junior. Come on, let’s go find out where they’re putting us.” Luke grinned up at the pilot then tangled his arm with Leia’s before pulling her inside. Chewie approached Han from behind then rumbled, “You’re a sap, Han Solo.”

The pilot turned to the Wookiee with a frown then insisted, “I am not. Shut up, fuzzball and let’s get inside before we freeze.” The two hurried to catch up with Luke and Leia then Han snatched the young Jedi by his waist, beginning to ruffle the blond’s hair.

“Han, come on! I need to go find out where I’m sleeping!” Luke insisted with a laugh. Leia raised her eyebrows at the interaction then Han suggested, “Why don’t you stay in the Falcon with me? It’ll have better heating and you won’t have to share a room with someone you don’t know.”

Chewie glanced down at his pilot then rumbled, “Oh but you’re not a sap. You’re such a fool in love.” The captain twisted to face the Wookiee and snapped, “Shut it, fuzzball. I am not.” The Princess snickered and patted him on the shoulder as she murmured, “You so are.” And with that, she ducked into the control center to greet one of the Generals with a grin on her face. Luke turned to face Han and Chewie then asked, “What are you talking about? What did Chewie call you? I’m so confused.”

The Wookiee gave a laugh then walked back to the Falcon, leaving the two alone. Han stared at the young Jedi then grabbed Luke by his arm, chiming, “C’mon kid, let’s go get you a coat, gloves, and a hat then I teach you how to have some serious fun in snow, okay, kid?”

Luke nodded with a bright smile then Han wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards the rest of the fleets in search of something warmer to put over his robes. Thankfully the Resistance had thought ahead when they chose Hoth as their new place to reside and plenty of the other pilots had different sized coats and hats for the men to choose from.

The two Rebels slid into their warmer clothing then began making their way towards the entrance of the base to go outside when they ran into Leia, who was as bundled up as her comrades were. Luke flashed his familiar smile at the Princess then he chirped, “We’re going to play in the snow, do you want to come outside with us?”

She began to protest then Han wrapped an arm around the Jedi’s shoulders as he replied, “Let’s be honest here, kid, the Princess is much too elegant to come play with us rebels. She could never get her royalness dirty.” Leia scoffed at his goading then shoved him towards the exit door, chiming, “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for Luke, since he’s never been able to play in the snow. Now let’s go, laser brain.”

The three ended up making a snowman then Leia threw a snowball at Han’s head, causing the three to erupt into a full on snowball war with Luke dodging most of what the two threw at him. The Jedi began to race towards the base entrance for cover then the door opened, revealing Chewbacca. Just as the Wookiee stepped out, Han launched a snowball in Luke’s direction, only for Chewie to be hit. The three Rebels paused as he glanced down where the snow had stuck to his fur and looked up towards his captain with a roar. Han gave a laugh then chimed, “The kid and Princess needed to have a bit of fun, fuzzball! Don’t be a grump!”

Han Solo’s third mistake as he tried to prevent himself from falling in love with Luke Skywalker? Going out in below freezing temperatures to drag the damn rebel back to their base on Hoth. But that didn’t go quite as planned. Han had finally found the kid lying face first in the snow and fear struck through his body, harder and deeper than the cold of Hoth could ever try and reach. The pilot scrambled off the TaunTaun he was riding and rushed forward towards the Jedi, turning Luke on his back.

“Kid? Kid, hey, come on. Luke! Come on, you gotta wake up!” Solo urged, tapping the blond on the cheek to wake him from the cold and exhaustion. Those familiar blue eyes finally opened then Luke squinted up at the pilot, asking, “Han? You came out for me?” The captain sighed with relief, thankful that his friend wasn’t dead then scooped the younger man’s lightsaber to slice open his now dead TaunTaun before he gutted the lizard and stuffed Luke inside to keep him warm while he worked to put up a shelter for the two of them to stay in overnight.

“Ahh, kid, what the hell have you done?” Han asked after he finished the shelter. The blond gave a nonsensical answer then those blue eyes fluttered open as he mumbled, “Han… Han, ‘m sorry.” Solo cupped his cheeks then pressed his forehead to Luke’s as he stated, “Yeah, it’s okay, kid, just get warm, okay?” He wrapped one of the two blankets that he had in his bag tighter around Skywalker’s shoulders then tucked a stray piece of hair behind Luke’s ear with a small sigh. Sometimes Han really wondered if this kid was worth more trouble than he caused.

The kid began to tremble, either with the pain that he was struggling with or the freezing temperatures of Hoth, both was a possibility then the captain tugged the younger man into his side before pulling the larger blanket over them both. There was no way that the Rebels would be looking for them tonight so they might as well get comfortable. Luke’s head fell onto Han’s chest then the blond mumbled, “Didn’t mean to bring you out into this mess, Han. I’m sorry.”

“Kid, just get some sleep and quit apologizing. I’m a man, I make my own decisions, you got that? Now get some rest, you need it.” Han chastised with a roll of his eyes. Luke nodded in understanding then his eyes fluttered shut, falling into his exhaustion.

While Han watched as Luke floated in the bacta tank to help recover from his injuries caused by the hypothermia that he endured and the brutal attack of the wampa, the pieces began to fall into place for the pilot and Han couldn’t help but wonder if Chewie was actually right: was he catching feelings for this bright eyed Jedi?

It was stupid, he wasn’t some youngling doing something new and trying to decide whether he liked it or not: these were actual emotions that people his age already had a handle on. So why was it that he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Luke Skywalker?

“Han?” Luke called out, scuffling after the pilot as he left the recovery room. Solo glanced over his shoulder then turned when he noticed that Skywalker was fidgeting with his hands. “What’s up, kid?” Blue eyes flickered up to the taller man’s face then he raised up on his tiptoes to kiss the pilot on the cheek before he murmured, “Thank you… that’s two I owe you.” Han stared after the young Jedi as he walked back to his bed then walked to the Falcon, stunned. Luke Skywalker just kissed his cheek. Holy shit.

He entered the ship and slumped beside Chewbacca who asked, “What’s wrong, Han? Is it Skywalker?” Han let his head fall into his hands then groaned, “Chewie, you were right. Fuck, I’m in love with the kid, what the hell am I going to do now?”

“Face your feelings and tell him how you feel like normal humanoids do?”the Wookiee suggested, crossing his arms across his chest. Solo peeked between his fingers then hissed, “No, are you kidding me? That’s the dumbest idea, what if he doesn’t like me back?! Then what, I actually have to leave! If I leave, who’s gonna save his ass from getting killed? Or who’s going to give Leia shit about those braids and her royal pain in the ass status?”

The two stared at one another then Chewie stood as he shook his head before he replied, “Come talk to me when you’re not acting like a cub, Han.” The Wookiee exited the ship and Han stared out the windshield with a sigh. Fuck, he was really going to have to own up to his emotions, wasn’t he? Unfortunately though, they were in the middle of a war and wars take no rest for anyone, no matter how big of a crisis they had found themselves in. The Battle of Hoth took place then Luke went to the Dagobah system to train under some Jedi Master while Han, Leia, Threepio, and Chewie tried to outrun the fucking Imperial Army, who was determined to capture the crew.

“I know how you feel.” Leia stated, claiming the seat beside Han as he piloted the Falcon to their next destination. He flipped auto pilot on then turned to face her as he replied, “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, Your Highness.”

“Except that you do. Anyone with eyes and half a brain can see the way that you look at Luke. My only question is when are you going to admit the truth, you stuck up, half witted, scruffy looking nerf herder?” The pilot jerked his head up then he snapped, “Who’s scruffy lookin’?”

“You are, you moron! God, I wish you would just stop being so damn stubborn and just accept the fact that you’re head over heels in love with Luke! Ugh!” She stormed out of the cockpit then Han turned back to his piloting as he muttered, “I’m the one having the crisis but I’m still in the wrong. That makes complete sense.”

Han Solo has seen a lot of shit go wrong in his life but ever since he joined the Rebellion, things just got progressively worse. At one point, Chewie offered up that this is what he gets for not believing in the Force but that just made him more pissed at the galaxy. But it only got worse when he went to Lando. He actually thought he could trust that bastard but Force he was so wrong. Trusting him and where did it get him? Frozen in carbonite.

Leia helped him escape the trap that Jabba the Hutt decided to put him in then rushed out, “Luke is here to save you.”

“Luke is here? Oh Stars, we’re doomed. Wait, why can’t I see?” Han asked, rubbing at his eyes. Leia paused then replied, “It’s probably just temporary, from the hibernation in carbonite. Come on, we’ve gotta go.” But as normal, their original plan didn’t work out. The Princess was taken hostage by the Hutt and Han got tossed down a garbage chute where Chewie was sitting.

The pilot settled against the wall then pressed his head into his hands as he muttered, “I really hope that Luke knows what he’s doing.” A few bounty hunters came into the cell then jerked the two to their feet before dragging them out. He jerked out of the bounty hunter’s hold then bumped into someone else, who grabbed his arms to steady him.

“Kid, is that you?” Han questioned with a raise of his eyebrows. “Han, you’re okay. Force, I thought Jabba had already fed you to whatever he could find on such short notice.” Luke rushed out, cupping the pilot’s forearms. The older man gave a laugh then replied, “Trust me, kid, that makes two of us. Together again, huh?” The young Jedi laughed before he answered, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“So how we doin’?”the pilot asked as the Gamerorrean shoved him forward. Luke laughed quietly and stated, “Oh the same as always.” Han raised his eyebrows at the reply he got before the pigs jerked them to a stop then he questioned, “That bad, already? Damn, kid, thought you had this covered.”

“I did have it covered… old man.” Han paused at the statement then glanced down in the general direction of Luke’s voice and scoffed, “Did you just call me an old man, junior?” Leia rolled her eyes at the banter then snapped, “Can you two please focus while this slug is plotting our deaths? That’d be great honestly.”

“Glad to see you’re still kicking, Highness. I thought for sure Jabba would’ve thrown you down a chute to become a snack by now.” Han stated casually and she rolled her eyes before stating, “Trust me, I would have preferred becoming rancor food over where and how I’m sitting now.” Jabba gave a few hisses and snaps then Threepio translated for the four prisoners, “He has decreed that you are to be terminated… immediately.”

“Good, I hate long waits.” Han muttered, fidgeting in the Gamerorrean’s hold. The three were hauled off onto a separate ship then drove to the middle of Tatooine, with Jabba the Hutt’s people partying on their own.

“I think my eyesight is getting better. Instead a dark blob, I see a big light blob.” Luke gave a small chuckle then stated, “There’s nothing to see. I used to live here, ya know?” Han turned to stare in the smaller man’s direction then replied, “You’re gonna die here, ya know. Convenient, isn’t it?”

“Well, at least I’m dying in good company. But stick beside Chewie and Lando, I’ve got a plan.” The pilot sighed and muttered, “You’ve had a plan before and look where we are now. About to get fed to whatever the hell this is.”

Thankfully Luke’s new plan had gone as well as it could, with no one on their side dying. They managed to get back to the Falcon then Luke led Leia into her room, eager to help her get dressed and out of the awful bikini that Jabba the Hutt had stuffed her inside while Chewie helped Han gain back the rest of his eyesight. Lando made sure that the compressor was working then walked beside the pilot asking, “How you feelin’, old friend?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a speeder. Hey, I gotta ask: how’d you, Luke, and Leia get together for this plan?” Han asked, turning to face him. Lando gave a nervous laugh then turned to face his friend before he answered, “Well, that depends. Just how much are you in love with that Jedi of yours?” The pilot snapped his head up to narrow his eyes at Calrissian before he snapped, “What the hell does my feelings for Luke have to do with you teaming up with the bratty twins of the galaxy?”

The scoundrel laughed again and replied, “Well let’s just say that I wasn’t helping them without a payment and the kid was nice enough to offer that pretty mouth of his.” Anger churned into a tight knot in his stomach and Han came to a slow stand as he snarled, “You better be fuckin’ with me, Lando.”

Luke and Leia exited her room then the blond furrowed his eyebrows together as Lando answered, “Oh, he was insistent. Said he’d do anything to get you back. So who was I to refuse?” The pilot made a move to snatch his friend up, only for Luke to step behind the two, insisting, “Han, don’t!” Solo scoffed then flared down at the Jedi, snapping, “Oh, you give him a blowjob and now you’ll jump to his defense?!”

“What are you talking about?! Okay, I think we need to talk.” Luke admitted, gripping the front of Han’s shirt before dragging him into the captain’s quarters. The blond slammed the door behind them then shoved the pilot towards the bed before he pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. Those blue eyes fluttered open and Luke demanded, “Would you care to tell me what was that out there with you and Lando and why the hell you think that I gave him a blowjob?”

“Because you went to that son of a bitch and when he wouldn’t help without a payment, you sucked his dick!” Han exploded, pinning the shorter man to the door. Luke’s eyes widened and he ducked his head with a small laugh, which only pissed Han off more, even though his chest tightened with the cuteness of the motion.

“Why the hell are you laughing?! This isn’t funny to me! I actually thought that-“ Solo cut himself off with a shake of his head. The Jedi sobered then tangled his fingers in the hem of the pilot’s shirt before he tugged gently, murmuring, “Han, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird and it’s worrying me. Is it something I did? Did I make you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to!”

“Kid, just stop! It’s nothing you did. Just… you know what, never mind. Just go, get out. Go sit with the Princess.” Han insisted, beginning to back away, only for Luke to tighten his grip on his shirt, tugging him back. The older man frowned when he took notice of Luke’s lips pressed into a stubborn line then the young Jedi mumbled, “I’m not blind, Han. I know how people act when they’re in love. So why are you acting like this if you just see me as some dumb kid?”

The captain stared down at the insistent Skywalker and cupped his jaw as he replied, “Maker, I wish I could see you as just some dumb kid. But shit, junior, ever since I saw you in Mos Eisley, I can’t get you out of my head. Anything you do makes my heart feel like it’s going to fucking launch out of my chest. And I thought I could make it stop, I thought that I could just ignore the way that you made me feel but dammit, you were just so insistent on being my friend.”

Luke’s lips parted then he murmured, “You… had feelings for me?” “Not had, kid… Have. Shit, I’m so fucking in love with you, I’d do anything for you at this point.” Han admitted, staring down at the blond’s mouth. Skywalker stared at the pilot for a few seconds, taking in all of the information that Solo had thrown his way before he asked, “But wait, if you’re in love with me, why’d you act like you were so into Leia?”

He sighed at the question and thought for a moment before he answered, “I tried to distract myself from you, see if I could save you from me.” Luke frowned up at Han and twisted his fingers in Han’s shirt as he snapped, “But you never thought to ask me if I wanted to be saved. Did you ever think that just because you were saving yourself from being rejected that I wasn’t being hurt by it? You were protecting me from something that you thought that I would be ended by in the end but you didn’t even stop to consider the possibility that I wanted what you have to offer me.”

“Wait, why the hell are you mad at me? I was just trying to protect you!” Luke let out a frustrated growl and stomped his foot like a youngling would when they didn’t get their way before he insisted, “Blast it, it’s like this is going in one ear and out the other! Han, you didn’t even consider asking me how I felt about you. You kept shoving me away and acting like I was your little brother but you failed to see the way that I look at you, like you had designed and hung the entire galaxy, like you could do no evil. Like you’re the one person who would hold me at the end of the day and tell me that everything was alright, that just because I’m Vader’s son doesn’t mean that I’ll turn to the dark side. You failed to see that… that you wasn’t the only one who’s in love.”

Han paused at Luke’s admission then he leaned closer as he murmured, “Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” The Jedi gave a small laugh and answered, “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you when we first met at that disgusting bar.” Solo chuckled and shook his head before he pressed his forehead to Luke’s then he murmured, “I’m sorry that I’m an idiot. I should’ve told you.”

Skywalker nodded in agreement and his blue eyes shimmered under the dim light of the captain’s room before he asked, “Would you kiss me now? Then go talk to Lando and say you’re sorry for nearly taking his head off?”

“I’m not apologizing to that son of a bitch but I will kiss you.” Han informed the younger man before he leaned down and pulled Luke into a kiss. The blond practically melted into the tenderness of the kiss then he sighed quietly as the pilot pulled away, murmuring, “We should probably go back out there and figure out what our next move is.”

The Jedi began to nod his agreement then the two twisted towards the door when someone knocked on it. Han narrowed his gaze when he realized that it was Lando on the other side then the man chimed, “You always were the jealous type. Even when we were younger. After Chewie told me that you were head over heels for this Jedi, figured that you’d need a good push from your old buddy. And with that being said, I believe that I deserve a thank you?”

Luke laughed at Lando’s explanation and slid out of Han’s grasp as he asked, “You’ve always been a jealous person? For shame, Han, I figured you’d be the mild tempered and understanding one.”

“Sarcasm is not a good look on you, kid, just saying. Now c’mon, we need to figure out what the Rebellion’s next move is.” Han informed the shorter man as he nudged him out of the captain’s quarters with a roll of his eyes.

#star wars #star wars fluff #star wars imagines #star wars angst #skysolo #skysolo imagines #skysolo angst #skysolo fluff #luke skywalker #han solo #luke skywalker imagines #luke skywalker angst #luke skywalker fluff #han solo imagines #han solo angst #han solo fluff #leia organa #chewbacca #lando calrissan

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redrobinhoood · 4 years

Text

no choir | chapter 5, no chorus

AO3 Link | 2700 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 4, Chapter 6

Chapter Summary: Fox, Riyo, and Thire deliberate on what to do next.

Thire leaned into Riyo’s embrace, closing his eyes as he tried to fight back the memories that were resurfacing. She was murmuring reassurances into his ear and for a moment he felt an intense jealousy for Fox. That jealousy rapidly disintegrated as the events of last night continued to come back to him. He remembered Fox holding him, soft words in the language he had known since birth, the argument, the numbness that had eaten him alive. Thire had known a lot of pain in his life, and he had decided that feeling pain was better than feeling nothing at all. He came back to reality to the sound of his name.

“Thire, Thire, don’t go back there.” Riyo was saying, rubbing the side of his shoulder. “Stay here. Don’t think about it.”

Thire sighed and took a long drink of the caf that had been forced upon him. He had a new resolve. “Maybe it shouldn’t be my burden, Fox. But it’s one I’ll gladly bear.” Perhaps gladly wasn’t the best word, but when compared to the utter nothingness he felt at night it suited the emotion best. He looked back down into the mug in his hands. “The five-oh-first clone you killed. Fives. We lost you for a while afterwards. If Thorn hadn’t been there, I don’t think we ever would’ve gotten you back. I can’t watch you go through that again.”

“That was different.” Fox spoke softly, and Thire knew that if he looked up he would find Fox also staring at the liquid in his cup.

“I remember what you said before you collapsed. You said, ‘it should’ve been set to stun.’ Do you remember that you collapsed?” Thire found the strength to look up and found his prediction to be true. If he hadn’t worked beside Fox for the past three years he would’ve thought that the man wasn’t listening, his concentration on avoiding eye contact was so intense.

“Only what Thorn told me.”

“I couldn’t-, I can’t let that happen again.”

“Fox.” When Riyo spoke up both men turned to look at her. “Did you kill Lor Hano?”

“Senator Chuchi, Lor Hano was killed by his own thermal detonator.” Thire said.

“And who told you that?” She asked. When Thire couldn’t answer her, she continued. “Fox, you said you lost your blaster in the explosion. But when I was targeted by that speeder bomb your blasters were fine and you were much closer to that than you were to the thermal detonator.”

“Are you saying I shot him then what, blew up the building myself?” Fox laughed in disbelief. “I think I would remember.” Then his expression fell, and he looked back at Thire.

“Would you remember?” Riyo prompted.

Fox shook his head. “This conversation doesn’t leave this apartment. For the sake of the Emperor, this doesn’t leave the apartment.”

“You think someone in the Senate is doing this.” Thire said.

“I think it’s someone close to the Emperor. One of his aides? Are you certain that it’s not Darth Vader, Thire?”

“Vader was off-planet when Lor Hano was killed.” Anakin Skywalker had been on Oba Diah at the time. “I’m certain it’s not him. He would’ve just killed us instead.” He would’ve killed Thire the moment he stepped out of the immolation chamber. Thire could barely remember hunting down Master Yoda, but he could clearly remember what had followed the hunt. Mustafar. Plastoid melting heat. He remembered kneeling in the burning sand over a body that burned just as hot. A body whose face he recognized from meetings in the Chancellor’s office.

“You know him better than we do.” Riyo said before Fox could question Thire further on the Sith Lord. “Even after, well, last night, you still prefer his presence over the Emperor?”

“If serving the Emperor comes at the cost of my mind, yes. The Emperor is a good man, but I think Stone was right. I think I’m allergic to him.” Thire watched Fox reach up to touch the fresh scar across his lip. The Guard wasn’t the same without Stone. Life wasn’t the same without Stone. Both Thire and Fox were commanders, but Fox was also his commanding officer. Each of them had had a very different relationship with one another.

“I’m sorry, Thire. I should h-.”

Thire waved away Fox’s apology. “It comes with the territory. I accept your apology, but I don’t need your justification spiel. I know it’s because you were busy with Riy- with Senator Chuchi.”

“Riyo is fine, Thire.” Riyo said with a smile, placing her hand on his shoulder for a moment before pulling back. Now that the tension in their conversation was waning, her skittishness around him was returning. “You’ve slept on my couch. I believe that that threw all formalities out the window.”

Thire couldn’t help the light laugh that escaped him. Possibly, his first laugh in months. “We are in agreement there, Riyo.”

“And I believe that we are all in agreement that we need to find out who has been pulling the strings of this operation for months.” Fox said. “My first missing memory not from a traumatic head injury was after the bombing at the Jedi Temple. Thire?”

Thire shook his head. “I don’t know.” He had a clear timeline of his life until his promotion to commander. But after that, fragments. A few clear memories, mostly in the evenings; laughing with Fox and Stone in the barracks, some soft-spoken conversations with Jek and Rys, a conversation in the museum with his brothers and Riyo, the crack of plastoid against marble, the screech of heels against that same marble as they dragged Riyo away. After that, the fragmentation began in earnest. The scent of blaster-fire burned flesh and bacta. His wound or Fox’s? There hadn’t been a scar on his arm before, it must’ve been his. He had been told that there was an interrogation that he conducted on the bounty hunter that he’d brought in. It was because of that interrogation that Fox went to arrest Lor Hano. And then Lor Hano was dead and all of his files were destroyed. Any evidence of his supposed crimes was gone. More fragments. He had woken up in Stone’s arms on many nights, but he couldn’t remember why he’d needed comforting. Now, he believed that he might understand. Sometimes Fox was there, often he wasn’t. Thire thought he may have collapsed once. There were fragments of Jek, Rys, and Riyo floating around but they didn’t form a cohesive narrative. He had depended entirely on his immaculate records in his office to keep the work he did from day to day straight. Then there was order sixty-six and Mustafar. Thire wrenched himself back out from his thoughts. “After the bombing. Sometime after my promotion.”

“Well then, let’s start a list of everyone I had contact with starting at that time and compare that to who you see on a daily basis.” Fox was taking over as the commanding officer now. Thire let him. It was his right after all. “We’ll take this slow, we don’t want this being to know that we’re onto them. And Thire, don’t tell the Emperor yet. He may put himself at risk if he knows that he’s being played. And we can never talk about this in the Senate building. The risk of bugs is too high.”

“You can meet here.” Riyo offered. “Your men will think that you’re working late and sleeping in your offices, even if you don’t mention anything to them.”

“Ri, if we’re found out that puts a huge target on your back. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. And if any being can find out about this, they can find out about us. And our relationship may be the more despicable thing to the citizens of Coruscant.”

Thire nodded and stood, making his way over to where his boots, gauntlets, and helmet lay on the floor beside the couch. When he looked back up Fox was holding Riyo in his arms, pulling her securely against his chest. He let the image burn into his memory. He had served alongside Fox for the past three years. In that time, he had seen the commander bleed, burn, and break, and through it all he never gave up on protecting his men. Thire didn’t know if his loyalty to Fox came from Kaminoan conditioning or from the man’s steadfast commitment to leading from the frontline. In the end, Thire supposed, it didn’t really matter whether his loyalty had been bred or gained, it had certainly been earned. Thire resolved to hold onto this moment, keep it as a fragment in his mind. He’d been in pieces for a long time, a few more didn’t matter if it kept his family whole. Even if he couldn’t save himself, he could save them. He could save Fox from the crushing numbness. He could save Riyo from watching him slip away. Maybe he could pick up his own shattered pieces, maybe not. Rys’ blood still stained his white gauntlets. He would have to break a little more today.

Riyo kept her eyes on the two seated clones in front of her as the speeder made its way through the Coruscant sky. With all the things she could fear right now, the one at the forefront of her mind was that she didn’t shower this morning. Instead, she had selected the most covering outfit she had in hopes of suppressing the smell of ash and blood and the unmistakable smell of clone. She couldn’t have named the smell of the clones with one word, or perhaps many words, but the scent of armor polish, plastoid, combat, Coruscant, cheap soap, ozone, salt, and fried circuitry was distinctly theirs. If another being smelled it on her, she and Fox would be found out in a heartbeat, and this time, they would be dragging Thire down with them. While any trace that still lingered across her skin was covered, her hair was not. She hoped that the sprays she had used to set her hair in place above her head masked the smell. She and Fox couldn’t be found out when he was so close to uncovering such a corruption.

They were onto something, and if they were right, all would be better. The wheels of the Empire could start turning. With whoever it was pulling the strings gone, the Senate could begin to function as it had before, if not better. They could begin to repair their relationships with worlds that had turned to the Separatists and restore peace and trade across the galaxy. The Republic had been divided, but with the right being to bring them together the Empire could be something better. The Imperial Senate could unite to pass regulation across all systems. Already, the Empire was bringing technology to impoverished worlds. A memory stirred, and she quickly brought out her datapad to make a note.

“How are you changing the galaxy today, Riyo?” Fox called back. Of course, he had seen her pull out her datapad in the mirror.

“Bringing technological advancements to the galaxy doesn’t mean that we should discard the local traditions of each world. They need to be preserved in that world’s heritage and should be used in industry in combination with the technology that we will introduce to them.”

“Is this what we sound like when we explain our job to senators?” Thire asked.

“Probably.” Riyo chirped. “When we brought industrialization to Pantora years ago to harvest our silk there were protests in favor of our traditional methods. Now, our economy is flourishing and traditionally harvested Pantoran silk is seen as a luxury. I want to bring that experience to other worlds.” When the speeder landed before the Senate she was the first one to leap out and start towards the Senate doors. Fox and Thire fell into place behind her and when she looked at their shadows that stretched at her feet she could see that they were marching in-step with one another. Likely an unconscious choice. On the rare occasions that she and Fox had walked side-by-side he had fallen into step with her almost instantly.

“Would the two of you be so kind as to escort me to my office today?” She asked.

“As you wish, ma’am.” Fox responded. Of course, he always walked with her to her office when he escorted her to the Senate, perhaps barring one or two days when there had been an emergency. But there were formalities and appearances to consider and Thire was with them today. Not that anyone would know that it was Thire. To them, he was just another guardsman in white armor. She thanked them at her door, shaking their hands and giving Fox’s hand three squeezes. They waited for her to walk into her office before they departed. However, when she opened the door a harsh mechanical breathing greeted her.

“Senator Chuchi.” The shadow from her nightmares said as he rose from her desk chair to greet them. “Commander Fox, Commander Thire.”

“Sir!” Riyo looked back to see the two commanders snap to a salute. The shadow waved his hand dismissively and they lowered their hands.

“Is everything alright, Lord Vader?” Thire asked as he and Fox stepped into the room behind Riyo. So, this was the Darth Vader they had spoken of. Suddenly, Riyo wasn’t so sure that Thire’s faith in the man wasn’t misplaced. Perhaps Vader hadn’t killed Fox at the Temple, but he had still killed his brothers.

Vader waved his hand once more and the door shut behind them. “I thought that I might find Commander Fox here, I didn’t expect you as well, Commander Thire.”

“Senator Chuchi’s alarm system was triggered last night.” Thire said without skipping a beat. “Commander Fox and I are familiar with the senator, so we both went to investigate.”

“Is this about the Jedi, sir?” Fox went straight for the throat of the matter, giving Vader no time to respond to Thire.

“The Jedi is no longer a concern to us.” Vader said, looking from Fox to Thire. “Which I believe you should be glad to hear. The Emperor tells me that one of your captains was killed by the witch. Most unfortunate.” Riyo expected Thire to bristle at the remark, but he remained motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest. Vader turned back to Fox. “Your efforts last night were admirable, if ineffective. The Emperor expects better in the future.”

“I understand, sir.” Fox gave him a terse nod.

When Vader stepped forward the two clones stepped to the side, Riyo following suit to stand next to Fox. As he walked by, Vader turned to look at her. For a moment, her blood ran cold and something inside her told her to run. Then the moment passed, and Vader’s gaze was on Thire.

“Commander, if you would accompany me.”

“Sir.” Thire cast a look towards Fox and Riyo then fall into step behind Vader as he exited the room.

When the door slammed shut, Riyo turned to Fox and grabbed his hands. “He knows.” She hissed. “He knows about us, I know it.”

“Riyo.” He squeezed her hands. “If he knew about us, I would be dead.” He pulled her to his chest and set his helmet against her head. “Things are going to get better. I promise.”

When Fox let her go and stepped back, she reached up to touch his helmet. “I trust you.”

“Sweetheart.” When she blinked up at him in confusion he continued. “Cyar’ika. It’s usually translated as darling or sweetheart.”

“Fox.” She breathed, finding herself speechless. With her hand still resting on his helmet she brought his forehead down to meet hers, pressing her forehead against the white stripe that came down over his visor. “I love you.” She managed to whisper.

“And I love you.” He rose back up slowly and stroked her cheek with a gloved hand. “We’ll find that fresh air one day, I promise. We’ll find a forest. It can just be you, me, and the trees. I promise.”

Riyo knew that those were promises he might not be able to keep. But right now, with Fox standing before her, she could pretend that their fulfillment was truly up to him.

#foxiyo #commander fox #cc-1010 #riyo chuchi #commander thire #my fics #no choir fic

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segalia · 4 years

Text

And we’ll be standing side by side on top of it all

AN: Back again with a Jedi!Finn AU for all your Star Wars needs! Now, I want to be clear that ForceSensitive!Finn is essentially canon but something they chose not to pursue. It would be easy to do an AU where little changes but his force sensitivity is explored. However, I decided if I was going to do an AU, I was going to go whole hog, so this is just me picking through canon and discarding the rest.

A series of snapshots starting from the end of The Force Awakens up until the end of technically The Rise of Skywalker. Enjoy

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

He heard the stories of the lightsaber flying past Kylo Ren into Rey’s hands like it belonged there, like it had been called there by something even stronger. He remembered the sense that something was wrong before the First Order burst upon Maz Kanata’s palace, and again when Rey was kidnapped. He recalled the sense that had urged him not to shoot, led him to Poe. He listened to the stories around the Resistance of the Jedis, of the Force.

He flexed his fingers.

The cup twitched.

---

This time, they aren’t separated as the First Order rallies. This time, their forces aren’t as depleted and the galaxy has their back. This time, it’s the pervasive othering, violent dogma spread by the First Order, inflicted on brainwashed soldiers and picked up by those harboring xenophobic tendencies, that’s the real enemy.

This time, when he has something he wants to tell her, he does it sooner.

---

It still took longer than it reasonably should. He thought about it every time Leia called Rey to Jedi training or he moved the cup a little further, but there was always something else going on. He was being called on a scouting mission with Poe or working on maintenance with Rose or BB-8 had something to show him. The wheel of rebellions could never afford to slow but damn if it wasn’t exhausting.

It came up without him intending it, not the way he’d planned in his head at ALL, on a rare day when he and Rey were relaxing after a supply run. They were stretched out in a green field, a sight that he could never get over, the rolling green tugging at something deep within him; Rey was determined to soak up every bit of green she could get. She’d admitted to him one day that she wanted to tuck it all away deep inside her in case she ever got banished back to Jakku again. She’d wanted to take it back as soon as she’d said it, but he’d just taken her hand and nodded. Some things were hard to shake.

Rey had idly mentioned that Naboo, her grandmother’s-her grandmother- planet was supposed to be full of endless grassy fields like this. Maybe after the war, they could visit.

Instead of breaking the tentative hope that those words always cast- “after the war…”- he spliced a blade of grass with his finger. Poe had said you could make them into a whistle, but he still couldn’t manage it. “Do you think you have to be related to one of them to have the Force?”

He felt her eyes on him, but remained fixated on the wilted grass in his hand.

“One of who?” She finally prompted, attempting to sound casual.

“The old Jedi masters. From before the Empire. You know, Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu.” He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent time lingering over the hologram of Mace Windu in the archives, wondering.

She was silent which he appreciated since he knew it meant she was truly giving it some thought. “No.”

He finally looked at her.

“No, Leia…” She paused but couldn’t make herself say the other word, “Leia’s been telling me more about the Force, how it has something to do with midi...chlorians, which some creatures have more of than others, but anyone can have the Force. Jedi used to be found all over.” Looking at the almost too bright sky, she took a deep breath. “We have to believe it cause that means there could be more.”

“Rey?”

She met his eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

---

Rey was thrilled, of course. She wanted to tell everyone immediately, but he managed to convince her to keep it under wraps for now. He’d seen the adulation she got for being a Jedi, and the high expectations and pressure that came with it, even with both Luke and Leia helping her. He wasn’t sure if they’d treat him the same since he was an ex-stormtrooper. His past hung over him like a glowing casino sign. On his good days, he reminded himself that he didn’t choose the First Order, but he did choose to leave. On the bad days, he remembered the stormtroopers he left, those he hadn’t gotten to try to save. He thought of Rey with her newly-discovered heritage and Poe with his Rebellion hero parents and Rose with her Resistance sister. That was when a disgruntled voice that sounded distinctly like Solo would grumble in his head about not letting your past define you, kid.

Luke was off-planet on a mission, but they told Leia. Her eyes lit up, and he swore he could feel her warm reassurance long before she gave him a hug. She focused on the facts first: how much had he been able to do so far? What did he want to do with it? They had an additional lightsaber if he wanted. Could they incorporate this into their stormtrooper rebellion plan? Would he rather train with Luke or Leia? The whole meeting was a bit of a whirlwind, but her hug at the end made it all worth it. Especially when she whispered, “I had a feeling,” and winked before walking away, ignoring his protestations.

---

He ended up doing more training with Luke since it helped them spread personnel out on missions. When he and Rey were on missions together, they spent their downtime training together.

Poe and Rose were both encouraging in their own way, but went right back to treating him like normal which he greatly appreciated.

He couldn’t deny how right it was to stand by Rey, Luke, or Leia, ignited lightsaber in his hand or floating rock extended before him as the living Force flowed through him, through them, through every living thing. Somehow, he thought his family, whoever they’d been, would be proud of him.

---

When he started his undercover missions as a stormtrooper (Poe berated him for leaving all his armor in the sands of Jakku, but his complaints about the heat started a pleasantly distracting debate about deserts that dragged both Rey and Luke in), Rey tried to tell him about the hand-waving trick to convince those around him that he was who they needed him to be. He refused point-blank and wouldn’t elaborate. She started to argue with him, but stopped abruptly when her eyes fell on his First Order tattoo, his number branded into the inside of his forearm. They hadn’t been able to remove it yet, but sometimes he’d have to close his eyes and ball up his fists to keep from scratching it off himself.

Instead, she told him to ask Luke about a cloaking technique before kissing him on the cheek and telling him to stay safe.

---

The first few missions were routine, just short enough to plan getting in and out, take note of their numbers.

When he got a nudge, some undeniable something in the Force, he went off plan, ignoring Poe’s yelling in his ear. It was worth it. After he got the stormtrooper alone and asked her for her name, she looked at him defiantly and proclaimed, “Jannah.”

---

Having an ally already on the inside (she’d beaten him at his own game, having rebelled and gone back undercover to pull out others three times now) accelerated the plan. They pooled their resources, learned from each other, planted ideas, and whispered freedom.

Phasma had no idea what was coming.

---

The stormtrooper rebellion didn’t leave time for much else. The pieces were falling into place, plans to storm the bridge, dismantle the ships, confuse orders, and disrupt the First Order hatching in coded conversations. As it gained traction, spreading like fire as it picked up allies in unexpected places, they were able to come up with contingency plans then backup plans for their contingency plans. When one of the soldiers in his old unit volunteered to hijack a planned raid on the Festival of the Ancestors, because “it just wasn’t right,” he let himself feel hope.

Everywhere he looked, he felt the sharp edge of hope as things seemed to be rushing towards an end. Poe was promoted to general; he managed to sneak away for a late night of games, drinks, and stories to celebrate. Rose used the information he sent back to make improvements on their ships and weapons, maximizing their impact and offering strategic modifications in planning sessions.

---

The Force also felt like it was building towards something; he didn’t have to ask the others to know they felt it too. Leia and Luke held hushed, troubled conversations about murky visions. Rey confessed fears of the Dark Side, whispering tugs. His acceptance emboldened her to ask Luke and Leia about it. (Leia tried to hide beneath her General’s steady calm, but her grief poured through the Force. He thought again about Solo’s death.) Their conversations about the history of the Jedi, different interpretations of the Force, the role of emotions led to the revelation of Darth Vader’s true identity. They talked deep into the nights, when even the last lights in the hangars had turned off. He relished the chance to delve into the history of his (his) people. Though sobered, Rey was steadier.

He made a silent vow to the others and himself.

---

In the end, he and Rey dueled Kylo Ren together. The Sith fell under their whirling blades, abjectly rejecting redemption for the last time, spitting vitriol. (They hugged and Finn felt more relieved than anything).

(Leia mourned her son and Luke his nephew, but they lived to start again. They defeated Snoke, Leia shouting, “I want my son back, you son of a worm!” before decapitating him. Then she turned to Luke and asked him to take her home.)

The stormtroopers made the greatest difference in the battle, refusing orders, instead turning on their abusers and overtaking whole fleets. The First Order, built on fear and intimidation, crumbled.

As the space dust cleared, they took a moment before starting on eradicating prejudice from the rest of the galaxy to celebrate being alive. Liberated stormtroopers shook hands with old enemies, now allies. Pilots hugged soldiers hugged mechanics hugged friends.

(Luke and Leia privately burned Kylo’s body. Somewhere, Anakin Skywalker berated his grandson in the afterlife before embracing him. This time, when the offer came, he accepted his dad’s hug. The afterlife brought unexpected clarity-and sobs- it seemed.)

---

Reconstruction was slow but powerful. Untold heroes came out of the shadows, and tales of resistance were spread and celebrated. Jannah was lauded. Rose and Poe received well-deserved awards for their parts. Rey and Finn were knighted in a separate but equally publicized ceremony. The message was clear: the Jedi were back, but they were doing things differently this time. It took longer, but other Force sensitives started showing up, sending messages. Luke started a new school. Both Rey and Finn chipped in when they could.

When they weren’t busy --turned out rebuilding also never stopped-- they could be found in each other’s company. Sometimes Jannah joined them or another one of their friends made along the way, but it was usually Rose and Rey tinkering away at something, Poe and Rey bickering about some flying thing, Rose and Poe comparing Resistance stories, and Finn taking part in it all or taking it all in.

Sometimes he couldn’t believe all that had happened because one day he refused to shoot. And then chose to free Poe and then chose to help Rey and then...It was a series of choices that he’d made, not always easy and certainly not without consequences, but he wouldn’t change them for the world.

Because sometimes, no matter who you were or where you were from, your choices could change the galaxy.

#star wars #jedi finn #finn #stormtrooper rebellion #finnrey #if you squint #could also be read as platonic #open to interpretation of most ships if you want #seg's stuff

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marvel-random-shiz · 5 years

Text

Parkner Halloween Week! Day Seven, October 31 - Trick or Treating, Costumes “Aren’t you a little old?”

It was exactly five o clock when the elevator doors zipped open and two, almost, unrecognisable faces stepped out. Their voices floated throughout the entire top floor of the Avenger Tower and caused Peter to glance up from his unending pile of textbooks, papers and assignments.

“What the hell man?” The first person whined, his short but plump figure easily recognisable to the brunette even though he was wearing a Darth Vader mask and complete outfit with the drapes and light saber.

“Hey Ned...what’re you doing here?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly while the cogs turned inside of his small, innocent mind.

“Uh it’s Halloween doofus, duh.” The other figure, clearly MJ, pointed out with the flick of her knotty hair. Peter turned to examine her costume and shuddered a little at the reality of the makeup she wore. Her skin was painted a yellow-green colour with fake blood pouring from cuts across her forehead, mouth and many places on her neck. Dark bags were placed under her eyes and her teeth had been smudged with red to go with all the blood on her ripped black dress. She was the literal embodiment of a zombie.

“Halloween’s tomorrow.” Peter brushed off their accusation and turned back to his work. When he didn’t receive a reply he looked up with pleading eyes, “right?”

“Shit.” MJ cursed when she realised that Peter was being serious. She rolled her eyes before chanting, “shit, shit shit. You forgot Parker! How did you forget Halloween!?”

“I...I don’t know! It just slipped my mind I guess!” Peter smacked his hands against the sides of his head at the revelation before abruptly standing from his chair, “I...gotta go get ready! My costumes in my room, go get Harley! I think he forgot too.”

“Aight but where exactly is Harley?” Ned added before Peter could bolt from the room.

“Uh...he’s...he’s in the lab! Yeah in the lab.” Peter knitted his brows together in order to remember where he last saw Harley or when he had last talked to him before running from the room and not allowing any more questions.

MJ and Ned both ran back to the elevator and hit the ‘down’ button a million times before the doors actually swung open.

Peter skidded down the hallway on his socks until he reached his bedroom door and shoved it open with too much force. It sent the door straight into the wall leaving a huge dent that was sure to earn him a lecture from Tony later on.

“Fuck.” Peter muttered before closing the door behind him and moving across his room to work out his costume. Moments later, with his enhanced hearing, the sounds of footsteps rumbling down the hallway caught Peter’s attention. He smiled to himself at the familiarity of the weight behind the steps, the timing of the heartbeat, the sound of puffing and the all too familiar curse to follow it all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Peter shook his head in a laugh before diving into his closet to throw his costume on, in as little time as possible seeming as his friends were currently waiting in the living room and most likely being hammered with questions from Tony.

***

Both Ned and MJ snapped their heads up the second steps could be heard in the hallway and saw a shadow emerging. They both thought it could only be Harley or Peter and waited to see who it was. Turns out it was neither.

“Heya kids.” Tony strutted in the room, bringing his carefree attitude with him and an empty coffee cup which he dumped in the dishwasher.

“Hey Mr Stark!” Ned exploded happily before covering his mouth at the squeakiness of his tone. MJ chuckled before mumbling a hello to him then glancing up when more footsteps could be heard in the hallway.

“Surely this is Peter or Harley now, they’ve been like-“ Ned checked the watched hidden under his long, black sleeve before turning back to MJ and keeping his voice at a whisper, “twenty minutes.”

MJ hummed before frowning, “Ned it took you like forty minutes to get ready.”

Ned scoffed before realising Captain America had sauntered into the room, neither Peter nor Harley followed and he sighed. Steve glanced at the two and MJ gave a little salute which made him laugh.

“You’re Peter’s friends?” Steve asked with his usual bright smile and leaned on the kitchen bench beside Tony.

“Yup, I’m Michelle.” MJ introduced herself with a half smile that Steve returned and Ned beamed under his mask.

“And I’m Ned Leeds! Or just Ned...nice to meet you Captain America!”

Steve laughed before glancing at Tony in the corner of his eye who shrugged, “nice to meet you two. Also just Steve’s fine.”

Tony clapped his hands together after a few beats of silence and cheerfully asked, “so what’s with the outfits?”

“It’s Halloween, are you seriously too old to remember. Oh wait, don’t tell me they didn’t have a Halloween when you were a kid? Are you that old Tony, geez.” The obvious voice of Harley Keener filled the room and all heads turned to the doorway to give Harley the dramatic entrance he deserved- or more so wanted.

“I know what Halloween is! You’d better watch that mouth of your Keener or I’ll...” Tony started to threaten the blonde but it slowly faltered before he came up with a typical teenage privelage he could take away, “or I’ll take away your phone!”

Tony crossed his arms proudly over his chest while Harley scoffed, slid onto one of the bar stools and whipped a strand of hair out of his eyes, “I don’t have a phone Tony. I dropped it off the roof the other day, remember?”

Tony snapped his jaw shut and sighed loudly making Harley snicker and turn to Ned and MJ who were examining his outfit and trying to piece together who he was.

His hair was greased back thoroughly, it looked like he put a lot more effort into it than usual, and tucked under a nice black rounded hat. He wore a plain white button up shirt which had fake bullet holes in multiple places with fake blood stained across it. Harley leaned back and flipped the fake gun around in his hand while MJ and Ned scanned his body up and down. He had tight black jeans on with black suspenders that hung loosely over his thin frame along with a bloodied handkerchief poking out of his front pocket of his jeans.

“You’re...dead?” Ned guessed which only made Harley roll his eyes. MJ furrowed her brow while trying to use her detective skills to work out who he was.

“You’ll get it when Peter comes.” Harley briefly told them while folding his arms over his chest and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows.

“Aw you did a couples costume? Cute.” Tony teased and Harley quickly flipped him the middle finger.

Everyone looked a little sceptical but sure enough, as soon as Peter entered the room everyone caught on to what their little ‘couples costume’ was. Peter had a slim black suit on with a white undershirt and an open blazer. His hair was combed back and he had a bullethole in the centre of his forehead along with bloody marks smeared in his perfect suit and shirt. A small handgun was tucked neatly into his waistband and a lit cigarette sat in his mouth along with a bag hanging over his shoulder that looked to be filled with money.

“Sorry I took so long, you guys ready to go?” Peter announced after he took a drag on his cigarette and pulled it out of his mouth to speak. Harley felt his own mouth grow dry just at the sight of him in the fitting suit, abdominals clearer than ever, and quickly swallowed before nodding and accompanying him.

“Oh! I know this!” Steve announced when the two teenagers stood side by side, each matching fearless attitudes and bulletholes scattered across their bodies, “Bonnie and Clyde?” Steve squeezed his eyes hit as if to hope that it wasn’t wrong and wouldn’t receive a punishment.

“You got it!” Harley gave him a wink before leaning over and giving Peter a peck on the cheek. Peter fiddled with his cigarette before delicately putting it back in his mouth and glancing at Tony who looked awestruck.

“Are you guys seriously going trick or treating?”

“Nah, we just like to wander ‘round home in this.” Peter answered sarcastically before adding with more of an annoyed tone, “of course we are!”

“Aren’t you a little old?” Tony asked with a sigh and he raked his hand through his messy hair before glancing up at the four teenagers in front of him.

“No ones too old for trick or treating Mr Stark!” Ned chirped in happily and Harley added with a smirk,

“Maybe just you.”

“Kid I swear-“ Tony began and pointed his finger threateningly at Harley who giggled into Peter’s side.

“Anyway!” MJ announced before clearing her throat loudly and giving a aggressive head nod from Peter to the door.

“Yeah we should probably head out, y’know before all the good stuffs gone.” Peter placed his hands on his hips and brushed the open buttons of his blazer away.

“Good idea,” Harley agreed before making a motion towards the elevator with his thumbs.

“Alright. Okay, have fun! Be safe!” Tony called as the four teenagers escaped his presence, “but not too much fun if ya know what I mean!”

Wide-eyed, the teens quickly slid into the elevator and pretended not to hear Tony’s comment as the doors closed behind them, sealing them off from the adults supervision.

***

Happy had been waiting downstairs to drop the group at a street at random and they agreed that they could walk home seeming as they would most likely be out late. With their pockets stuffed full of candy already, the group trudged onwards toward their next target.

MJ and Ned were snacking on their candy a few steps ahead of Peter and Harley who were hand in hand, just enjoying the others presence.

“I told you this would be a cool costume.” Peter bumped his shoulder against Harley’s who laughed.

“I didn’t doubt you.”

“Yes, you did. You said, and I quote, ‘Peter that is a stupid idea and no one will recognise us’.” Peter scoffed as he swung their intertwined hands back and forth.

“Uh Uh, don’t forget the rest of the story. I did also say, and I quote, ‘I’ll only do it for you because I love you,’” Harley added with a smirk and turned to face Peter who poked his tongue out.

“Still doesn’t mean you didn’t doubt me.” Peter complained earning another laugh from Harley who pulled him aside and stopped them from walking for a moment.

“How ‘bout if I make it up to you? Hm? You want all my candy?” Harley reached inside his jeans pockets and fished out a few chocolates and lollies which he had earned from the previous houses they had been to.

Peter made a thinking face before shaking his head, “I think I need something more...personal than that.”

Harley felt his lips tug upright even further than they had already been and leaned in closer, “personal like a kiss?”

Peter hummed and closed his eyes as Harley moved closer, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist and drawing them closer and closing the gap. When he was just milimetres away he stopped, hesitated, and Peter opened his eyes with his brow furrowed.

“Sorry, I don’t offer those. I guess you’ll have to choose another prize.” Harley shrugged with a shit eating grinnon his face. Peter gave him a light punch on the shoulder,

“That was mean. No that was cruel, Keener. Just cruel.”

Harley only laughed at his succession before actually closing the gap. He smiled and felt Peter run his hands under his hat through his hair, it was at that moment that he knew he loved Peter Parker- he was the Bonnie to his Clyde.

#parknerhalloweenweek2019 #parkner #parley #october 31 #arent you a little old?#harleykeener #peterparker #tonystark #nedleeds #michellejones #happyhogan #steverogers #bonnie and clyde #marvel #fic #fluff #peterparkerxharleykeener #spiderlad #spiderman

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newt-the-newt · 4 years

Text

The Mandalorian’s Everything - Chapter 2

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 3000ish

Warnings: mentions of sex and abuse, some extreme violent occurrences that happen to children (all of this happens in the reader's past, and I put that part in italics so you can skip if needed).

When the Mandalorian followed you into your house, he was quite surprised to find how homey and warm it really felt (warm as in comfortable, because obviously it's warm in the house, it's Tatooine.)

He gave a sweep of the small house, something he had to do at every place he went. He noticed that the kitchen was small, with no fridge, a faucet coming out of the wall as a water source, a stove with only one burner.

Down the one hallway there were 3 rooms. The first on the left was a bathroom with a toilet, a single sink and a small bathtub. The second room looked to be your bedroom. It was simple, with only a made bed, a small nightstand holding one picture of you and an elderly woman, and a closet with only 2 outfits in it. In the very last room he noticed the same elderly woman from the picture laying in the bed asleep.

"That's my Grandma." You whispered from behind him. "Well, technically a friend of my actual Grandma, but I've known this woman all my life. Practically raised me. So, I just call her Grandma. Or, more commonly 'Ancient, yet wise' as a joke we came up with a long time ago. She's the fossil, I'm the flower."

The Mandalorian nodded as he looked between you and your "Grandma". He had some questions, but he felt rude to ask. Clearly you had sensed his questioning and told him to follow you.

You lead him to a table with 2 apples that were starting to go bad, and started boiling some water on the stove. You gestured for him to sit, and when he complied, you began.

"I live in the town where the infamous Shmi and Anakin Skywalker used to live when the boy was just a boy, so this place seems to be some sort of local attraction on this dump of a planet.

"Local attraction to whom, you may ask, since Tatooine is not a place anyone in their right mind would go to for a vacation? Local attraction to Imperial Officers, Stormtroopers, and anyone who is part of the Empire. I have a feeling Darth Vader doesn't exactly like this place and wants it to be gone.

"So, what would you do if you were a Sith Lord and absolutely despised something? Destroy it, of course. And that's exactly what he did.

"My parents were slaves, just like I am now, but they abused me. Abused me and my baby sister Alora. Beat us till we were little pieces of pulp, then go have angry sex in their room, and not so quiet either. That was basically every night of our lives.

"Until one day.

"I had finished my duties, and instead of going straight home, I went to go visit my Grandma, who had been the only real parental figure in our lives.

"Alora wasn't with me, since she was still too young to do any work. I was helping the Fossil clean some of her pots and pans, and some of the vegetables she managed to grow, which still confuses me because we're in the middle of a desert, how the hell can you grow vegetables in sand... Where was I?

"Oh right. So I was washing some lettuce when we heard some sirens go off. I had never heard sirens before, ever, I didn't even know our town could afford sirens, so I didn't know what they meant, but my Grandma did.

"Immediately she went and shut everything off, all the droids, all the power, everything. She grabbed any recent garbage and the food we were making and dumped them down a hole she uncovered from one of the paintings on the wall. She went around every single room making sure it was perfectly clean and look like it hadn't been lived in in years (my Grandma was a big neat freak so it only took like 10 minutes.) She swept the floors to rid of any footprints in the sand and walked over to me.

"Then she picked me up and somehow pulled out the fridge and it started floating (I don't even know this woman was insane), went behind it, swept the last of the footprints then put the fridge back in front of us.

"And we waited.

"By this point I was so confused as to what was going on, and I was crying quite a lot because it had to be something bad. And Alora, she was back at home with our parents, and I wasn't there for her. I wasn't there to protect her from the bad like I always did.

"As we sat in darkness my Grandma just held me in her lap and shushed me, told me it would all be over soon.

"To help calm me down she told me stories, and it worked quite well. When we heard the Stormtroopers come into my Grandma's little farm we were dead silent.

"The Ancient One held a gun in one hand and me in the other, and we sat in the floor listening. Turns out her plan was genious because I actually heard one of the dummies say that it looked like no had lived here for years, and then left.

"We waited for another hour after we thought they were gone because you can never be too careful.

"Then we heard what had to have been one of the biggest explosions ever. Grandma's farm was a good 5 minute ride in a speeder, which is like at least an hour walk, from town, and we heard this explosion like it was right next to us.

"I cried some more. We were sitting in pitch black for the next, oh it had to be at least 2 and a half hours before the both of us (or at least my Grandma) got the courage to get out.

"When we did, my Grandma and I walked to the town to let any of the straggling Stormtroopers leave.

"When we did get to town, bodies were everywhere. Blood was sprayed over every surface, and the smell was rotten and musty. I saw many faces of children I played with burned and bashed in, their bodies twisted in awkward angles.

"My Grandma and I walked to my house. And it was a disaster. The two joining houses on either had completely collapsed, and it looked like ours was about to as well. But I still ran in. Screaming for Alora. I ran to her room, Grandma trying to get me to come back inside because the roof could cave at any moment.

"And when I got to her room, she was there. Lying on the floor. Laying in a puddle of blood with 2 bullet wounds in her back."

You wiped a tear that began falling down your face and continued.

"Oh my god, the look on her face. It'll be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. Her once cute little brown eyes had this look of a haunting death no one should ever see. Her room was destroyed, but I paid no mind to the mess as I cried next to her body.

"I left my sister that day. I could have saved her, I could have at least been there and died with her so she didn't have to suffer alone.

"Our parents had obviously done nothing to help her, we found their bodies hiding in their bedroom closet. Shows how much we really meant to them.

"But I could've been there. Maybe I couldn't have stopped her death, but I could have just been there.

"I was 7 years old. She was 2. And I failed her. I was really the only one she had. And I left her.

"My Grandma picked up my screaming body and dragged me back to her farm. We lived there for the next, oh 10 years at least until the town was rebuilt to be the same again, and when my Grandma fell ill, I became a slave and now work to keep us alive.

"Though I wish I was there with Alora, or had taken Alora to go visit Grandma with me, not once has Grandma ever failed to let me know that she could not be more grateful that I felt comfortable enough to go visit and spend time with her, because if I hadn't, I would be dead.

"She never fails to let me know that it was not my fault, and she's so happy that one of her girls made it out alive.

"She misses Alora as terribly as I do, but Grandma was much better at hiding it for my sake. She said that there was nothing we could have done, and for that we must move on with the few happy memories we have of her."

The Mandalorian was speechless, though he did get a sense of deja vu. His story was not that far off. But he wasn't going to tell you that.

The table was silent for a few more minutes before you spoke up again.

"One of the Fossil's favourite stories to tell is the one about a Mandalorian."

This made the bounty hunter's interest peak, and he looked up at you embarrassingly quickly.

"She told the tale of the brave man from Mandalore, who was trained to fight, kill, have no sympathy and just simply get the job done. But, he had a weakness. A girl he loved too much for his own good, which unfortunately lead to his downfall."

The Mandalorian gulped beneath his mask. Strangely, this story seemed a bit familiar to his situation.

"She liked to call him 'Lumpy' cause he always wore armour and was never able to hold her properly. It was never comfortable to hold him, because he was so... lumpy. And the nickname was born. "

"It's awful."

You smirked. "All the more reason to use the name. The girl never found out his real name, so, she stuck with Lumpy."

The room became silent again, until there was the sound of coughing. You stood up quickly and ran to the stove where you had your water boiling. You put it into a bowl with some powder, and while it turned into a muffin, you picked up one of the apples from the table and a poured some room temperature water into a cup.

You walked down the hallway with the food in your hands, and the Mandalorian trailing behind you. He watched with admiration as you walked into the room, set the food down onto the nightstand and helped the coughing woman, who the Mandalorian now knows is your Grandma, drink the water.

You really were an amazing person.

As you were feeding her the bread, you spoke to your Grandma. "So, we have a visitor today."

"Oh?" The bounty hunter noticed the elderly woman's voice was very soft and delicate, but still had a certain beauty to it.

"Yes, he saved me in the bar today, and I offered him our home for a night."

"What happened? Are you alright?" He noticed that she spoke slowly, but her words still came out in an almost majestic way.

"All thanks to the visitor. A cruel Twi'lek grabbed me and whispered some disgusting things in my ear. I got a good punch in, but my saviour swooped in and took him out of the bar. He then came back to ask if I was okay."

"How thoughtful."

"Yes, he was very kind to me. Would you like to meet him?"

"Are you sure this is a good man?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "I think so."

"Alright, then yes I would." she answered.

"Now, Grandma, you have to promise me you won't freak out."

"Why would I freak out," she gave a confused glance. "I thought you said this was a good man."

"You'll see." she shrugged, and you gestured for him to come over. He complied right away, and came to stand just a bit behind you. Your Grandma looked up at him and gasped.

"A Mandalorian."

"Yes, Grandma. His ship is quite far away, and there is a terrible sandstorm outside, so I offered him our place for just the night."

The bounty hunter felt a sense of calm around you. He knew that this was more than likely a bad idea, but he couldn't find it in him to say no to you.

"My, my," sighed your Grandma. "A Mandalorian."

You giggled. "Yes, Grandma." You glanced at the nightstand a gasped. "Shoot, I forgot to cut the apple. I'll be right back." You looked over at the Mandalorian. "Can you keep her company for a few minutes?"

The hunter was shocked. Did you really trust him that much? "Of course." He went and sat down in the chair near your Grandma's bed, resting his weapon against the nightstand.

When he looked up and saw you smile, he felt his heart skip a beat for what had to be the millionth time. "Thank you."

He followed you with his eyes out the door, and after another minute, he looked back at your Grandma, only to see her grinning at him.

"She likes you."

"Can't imagine why."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you helped her without expecting anything in return. That poor girl has not been shown much kindness in her life."

"The man that attacked her was my bounty."

"Doesn't matter. You came back to her after you got rid of him. And that's more than she's gotten from any stranger in a long, long time."

The Mandalorian stayed silent. So the elderly woman spoke up again.

"Thank you."

Just then you came back into the room. "Alright, much better now." You went and sat back on the bed next to your Grandma, and started feeding her the apples. The Mandalorian simply sat, admiring your movements, your actions, your beauty, and the words that came from your lips as you told your Grandma about your day.

After you finished feeding your Grandma, you brought over a bowl and toothbrush (unfortunately with no toothpaste) and brushed her teeth. Then you helped her sit up and sat behind her, taking a hairbrush to her head and gently detangled all the knots. By the time you were done she was exhausted, so you laid her back down, tucked her in to her blankets, gave her a kiss on her head, blew out the candle on her nightstand, grabbed the dishes she ate from and exited the room to head towards the kitchen.

"Goodnight, Ancient One."

Your Grandma smiled and replied, "Goodnight, Flower."

The bounty hunter watched all this from the doorway, and marvelled at your graceful way of fluttering around the room. Every move you made was perfect, and the Mandalorian simply could not do anything but stare in wonder and awe.

You, of course, did not know this, since his face was hidden behind the mask. But that definitely helped make his staring less obvious, which he was thankful for.

As you were walking down the kitchen, the Mandalorian followed in silence, and sat down at the table once more. He observed as you once again began boiling water, sliced up the apples, and made the muffin from the powder.

When you were finished you filled another glass with water, and made a motion with your head for the bounty hunter to follow you. He did, and noticed you lead him to your room.

"I'll leave the food here for you. This room has a curtain, and I swear on my Grandma's life, I will not come in here at all when you are here. I just have to use the bathroom, and then that will also be yours for the rest of the night."

As you went to the bathroom, the Mandalorian sat on the bed and waited for you. When you finished, you waited in the hall and asked "Can I come in?"

"Yes."

So, you walked in to put your clothes on the last hanger in the closet and turned to face the bounty hunter.

"Is the anything else I can get you?"

The bounty hunter shook his head.

"Alright. Well, if you do need anything, I'll just be sleeping in Grandma's room."

He nodded at your smiling form, and said a small "Goodnight."

When your smile got bigger, the Mandalorian knew that he really was in deep, deep trouble.

"Sweet dreams."

And with that, you walked away, leaving the Mandalorian to his own devices in getting ready for bed. He sat for a few minutes, trying to understand what the hell was going on with him. He trusted that you wouldn't come in, and he knew that you knew that he trusted you.

He went to the bathroom, did his business, and went back to his room. He took off his armor and placed it beside the bed on the floor. However, he did keep his helmet on. It wasn't that he didn't trust you; it was everyone else.

He slept upright (a position he had slept in many a time before) with his weapon resting right bedside him, and fell asleep with ease for the first time in a long time.

The Mandalorian had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with you.

#themandalorian #starwars #starwarsxreader #themandalorianxreader #themandalorianimagines #mando #mandoxreader #babyyoda

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