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thegreatwicked · 9 months

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Meditations: A Moment in Time in a Galaxy that Never Was

Mediations

For Madelight

Summary: Amid the summer heat on Dathomir, Maul finds himself unable to sleep, restless thoughts stirring within him. Seeking solace, he attempts meditation, only to be joined by his companion Zeala. As they navigate the challenges of finding inner calm, their connection deepens, and unspoken emotions come to the surface. Together, in the quiet moments of the night, they discover a shared intimacy that transcends words and the boundaries of their world.

Notes: Do I need to explain that this takes place in an alternate universe? No? Ok, so here we go. Maul, Savage, and Feral are alive and whole, Maul was not bisected in this universe. The three brothers return to Dathomir after the near massacre of their people to find Mother Talzin, dying. Desperate to see Dathomir reborn, Mother Talzin tasks the strongest of her children, Maul, to bring about a new age on Dathomir. Maul alongside his brothers and his mate, Zeala. Zeala is a native Dathomirian woman who was taken as a young child from her world and raised as a bounty hunter. She meets Maul on Mandalore and they are an established item. If you are a cannon snob then this is not the story for you, please see yourself out or sit down and enjoy. Get’cha an orange creamsicle cause this is gonna be spicy.

Dathomir.

The summer night wraps around the world outside, creating a dark backdrop dotted with sparkling stars like keiber crystals. It is captivating yet eerie, embodying the world's dual nature. The air is heavy and hot, and the sun's departure has not done much to make the temperature more bearable. Occasionally, a warm breeze wanders through the long hallways, briefly relieving the persistent warmth. Despite the inviting bed and the cool sheets against my skin, I cannot seem to fall asleep. I look around the room without any real purpose, feeling frustrated without a clear reason. The day has been lengthy and satisfying, my mind occupied and content. My body is tired, but each time I shut my eyes, my thoughts remain restless.

The physical comfort alone should be enough, but a restless feeling under my skin stops me from finding the peace I crave. My stare fixes upon the ceiling; an empty canvas that holds no answers, provokes no thoughts, and elicits no emotions.

In the haven of my home, solitude feels like a distant memory. My brothers stand by my side to share my burdens, and even as my mother's final days approach, her presence remains as she guides me to the task of rebuilding our home. She celebrates my son and has embraced Zeala, my mate, as one of her own, teaching her the magics that are her birthright.

Next to me, she rests, my mate and companion, enveloped in the solace that rightfully befits a woman of Dathomir. Her ghostly hair flows like a silken veil across the pillow that she holds close to her chest. Slumbering on her stomach, her arms encircle the pillow she clings to as if finding refuge in its embrace.

The intricate tattoos adorning her form draw my gaze down her body, tracing the delicate curve of her back and waist before disappearing beneath the sheet that grazes her hips. Her very presence in my life is still something of a mystery to me, a riddle I have never been able to solve.

Companionship.

It is not something the path of a Sith or Night Brother would have ever afforded to me. As a Sith, lust and embracing of passions was encouraged but such connections led to mercy and mercy was weakness. As a Night Brother the only touch of a woman I would have ever known was as a breeder in servitude to the Night Sisters. Devoid of any sense of equality.

However, Zeala challenges those conventions, carving out her role in my existence as a true equal. Such a thing would have been deemed heretical by both Sith and Night Sisters.

In her presence, I discover a paradox—a connection that feels both forbidden and undeniable. She is mine to protect, mine to touch, sometimes to fight with, and has born my son; complexities that defy my training and upbringing. But I am a Sith no more. And I am not bound by the traditions of the Night Brothers and Night Sisters.

As I contemplate these reflections, her delicate figure stirs, turning on the pillow, arms reaching overhead in a contented stretch. Her naked body is now revealed to my appreciative gaze. Bathed in the moonlight, its gentle glow caresses the curves of her skin, mingling with her tattoos and the various scars from battles she's endured, along with the unmistakable imprints left by carrying my son. A surge of lust courses through my veins and my hearts beat faster. My hands flex with the urge to reach over and touch her, it is overwhelming the sudden desire I have for her; to taste her perfect breasts, to envelope myself in her warmth and make her sing for me. The spectral beauty she possesses stirs sensations within me that at times, I am still learning to understand and control, yet my reverence for her keeps me from waking her. In this quiet contemplation, I make my choice.

It is time to seek solace in solitude, to find my path amidst the swirling tempest of thoughts and emotions.

My path leads me down the ancient stone hallways to a chamber which lies mostly bare and unadorned; yet graced by an open balcony that gifts me a panoramic view of Dathomir’s desolately, haunting landscape. Torches cast a gentle, flickering light upon the walls, creating a dance of shadows that mirrors my inner contemplations.

My legs fold into a familiar cross-legged posture, and I close my eyes, deliberately cutting off the world's visual distractions. Through the balcony, a warm breeze caresses my skin, carrying with it the essence of Dathomir's spirit, both harsh and alluring.

With each breath, I attempt to cast off the shackles of the outside world. Muscles taut from battles struggle to relax, slowly despite my training to always be ready, yielding to the sensation of the breeze and the coolness of the stone beneath me. My breath becomes a lifeline, a guide leading me back to the present moment.

Inhale. Exhale.

The rhythm of my twin heartbeats reverberate within me, a unique cadence born of Zabrak physiology. This is my anchor, grounding me in the now, granting me a brief reprieve from the chaos that clutters my mind.

As I continue to breathe, the world fades into the background. My consciousness extends, attempting to merge with the land, the air, and the very pulse of the planet. Yet I am further disappointed. Frustration simmers beneath my controlled exterior as my efforts to clear my mind continue to be thwarted by an ever-persistent barrage of thoughts. I release a measured breath, acknowledging my momentary defeat and my shoulders slump as if to surrender to the weight of my internal chaos.

Suddenly her presence calls to me at the edges of my consciousness.

I can sense her behind me.

The very air changes as she silently observes my struggles. She waits quietly for a few moments before seeking me out. Trying to ascertain whether I am receptive to her presence or if she should leave me, but the truth of the matter is, that it is a rare occasion that I do not desire her closeness. Even in my most angered state, when I feel more beast than man and pulse with anger powerful enough to rip worlds apart, Zeala’s presence, her touch, and her very breath on my skin soothes me; and I do not understand it.

Her footfalls are soft against the stone floor, approaching as if trying not to startle a skittish creature. I find myself contemplating if that is the lens through which she views me. However, there is no need for her to tread so cautiously, I hold an unspoken devotion to my mate that runs so deep, that I would readily offer my very lifeblood before ever causing her a shred of harm.

A ripple of awareness draws my focus to the cool touch of her hand gliding across my back. She kneels behind me and I can feel the warmth of her breath on my skin as her forehead rests between my shoulder blades—the gesture is both intimate and grounding. This is the sensation I yearn for when thoughts of her consume my mind. And that is the puzzling part—no Night Brother has ever experienced such a connection with a Night Sister. Regardless of how and where Zeala and I met and what our courses are, she is, at her core, a Dathomirian woman. And this union we have, this connection we share is unusual for our shared culture.

Our bond is unparalleled, defying the norms of our customs. It is more than mere intimacy—it is a bond unlike any other. She comprehends me, understanding my thoughts and desires sometimes before I even realize them myself. In another life, the ways of the Sith would dictate severing all connections with her, perhaps even snuffing out her life; viewing her as a vulnerability not to be tolerated. But I am no longer a Sith; I have become Maul once more, son of Dathomir. While the grip of the Sith teachings has weakened, their lessons remain deeply ingrained, making it challenging to dismiss them entirely.

In the customs of our people, parity would elude us; I would assume a subservient role to her, bowing to her, her wishes and whims guiding my stars. If she commanded, offer my blood for any cause she deems worthy. I would exist to serve her, aiming to bring her pleasure; a life not wretched compared to my past horrors. Nonetheless, the intimacy we embrace would not be sanctioned, our cohabitation forbidden. Her absence from my side in our shared bed breeds frustration.

Gradually, these musings disperse, replaced by a hint of a smile as I savor the wordless tenderness she offers. It is a curious revelation, having spent a lifetime devoid of such connections or sensations, yet finding myself relishing them so profoundly, yearning for their presence. The whisper of her breath caresses my spine gently, a subtle disruption to my usual composure. With my eyes firmly shut, I maintain my focus, her proximity an intermittent interruption in my concentration.

Breaking the silence with a quiet and knowing tone, I address the situation, curious about the disturbance that has roused her from what should be a peaceful slumber.

“What has awakened you?”

"I could hear the thunder of your thoughts," She remarks in a whisper, her voice a blend of tenderness and desire. It is a comparison that always catches me by surprise, a reminder of her unique connection to my inner world, even though she cannot truly read my mind.

“I highly doubt that.” My tone is light-hearted with amusement, as I release a breath and temporarily abandon my efforts. "I did not want to disturb your rest." It often surprises me how I think of her well-being before my own.

I shift my gaze toward her, allowing her fingers to glide up my neck, their delicate trail making its way to trace the creased lines on my forehead. Only Zeala possesses the ability to offer such a touch—one that carries a deep tranquility; a connection that is exclusively ours. I convey how my thoughts were a jumble, too intricate to disturb her slumber, hence why I turned to meditation for solace. Her touch persists, a soothing caress mapping the lines etched into my skin.

“How is your meditation progressing?” I scoff and don’t answer immediately,

"Focus eludes me." I further the sentiment with a dry tone. “Though it is difficult to find focus with such distractions, your touch for instance.”

“Perhaps you should channel that focus and teach me.”

Zeala is not a patient woman, and the notion of teaching her such a disciplined exercise as meditation draws genuine amusement from me.

"It might serve you well, considering your temper."

A thousand images of Zeala in various states of anger flash through my thoughts, most of them linked to her role as our son's mother. Her fury rivals even that of my mother, rendering her a truly formidable force—one I have no desire to challenge. Yet, oddly enough, witnessing her in such moments has only heightened my admiration for her and intensified my attraction toward her. To witness the extent of her ferocity as she safeguards our son, my son, stirs something within me, a connection that's both difficult to explain and impossible to ignore.

“Are you saying I’m hot-headed?’

“Yes,” I respond bluntly.

“My temper is nothing compared to yours.” She counters, clearly not offended.

“If that is your belief...”

"My assertion isn't a mere opinion; it's a factual observation. Or have you forgotten the fate you bestowed upon Garyss?"

Yes. That.

A snarl curls my lip as I recall the man who dared extort the mother of my son.

The memory of his audacity, his touch on my Zeala, ignites a fire in me. The repugnant thought of his filth marring my mate lingers. The knowledge of his punishment fails to quell my rage, no matter the price he paid. My posture tightens and my fists clench.

I recalla vividly his fear and screams fueling a devious grin, a fate that was well deserved and yet was not brutal enough. Zeala is mostly right, and her observations are correct to a degree.

"You're not entirely innocent in matters of retribution either. Both Savage and I bore witness to your fierce attack against that Twi'lek girl who dared to vie for my attention in your presence." It was quite the spectacle, a sight forever etched in my memory, to see her stake a claim over me.

A shadowy chuckle brushes my ear, the sensation of the sharp edges of her sharp teeth following, accompanied by a sinister tone.

“She won’t make such a mistake again.” Zeala asserting her possession of me in that wicked whisper, I cannot help but wonder if my declarations also ignite similar emotions within her.

"Meditation might offer you the balance you seek."

"Teach me, then. Your discipline might rub off on me." As her lips find my ear once more, her voice whispers, telling me to instruct her, one I struggle to resist.

The warmth of her lips, a tender touch that trails along my spine, resonates deeply within me. Her presence, her breath, her soft words, all contribute to a growing intimacy that beckons as much as it distracts. The very notion is unexpected, yet a part of me is intrigued by her willingness to explore this practice with me.

With a controlled exhalation, I slowly shift my head, just enough to acknowledge her presence and her request. Her bewitching violet eyes hold mine, and I find myself drawn into her gaze, those unusual depths that could drown me.

I nod in agreement. It is then that I notice she has donned my black robe, wrapped in its darkness that contrasts the pallor of her perfect skin. The robe's oversized nature drapes around her like a luxurious blanket, covering her form yet hinting at the fact that she wears nothing else. The possessive thought that she's wearing only my robe is both alluring and intoxicating, deepening the connection between us in a way that stirs something primal within me.

She has done this on purpose.

As I narrow my gaze at her, a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She has taken a calculated step with her choice of attire, and she is fully aware of the effect it is having on me.

“Sit comfortably,”

She follows my instruction to sit, though not as I expected her to. Instead of mirroring my position and posture, she instead, positions herself in my lap, straddling me. It is an unconventional posture, one that defies tradition and expectation. Her hands find purchase on my shoulders, and her forehead presses against mine. Never before has such an intimate pose of meditation been assumed and for a moment I think she cannot be serious so I pose the question.

“Are you truly committed to this?” My tone is a dry mix of skepticism and curiosity, as I wonder if this is some kind of jest – and yet, a part of me hopes it is not. I follow up with a comment on her unique approach, stating, "Your approach is… unorthodox."

Yet, even as I speak, I cannot deny the undercurrent of affection in my words, nor how enjoyable I find this to be.

I instruct her to focus on her breathing, to let go of the tension that clings to her form. As our breaths sync, her body relaxes against mine. Our breaths intermingle, drawing us into a shared rhythm, a connection that is both unusual and intriguing.

Her thumbs tracing soft patterns on my shoulders invite a question, a challenge. "Is that for my benefit or yours?" I ask, my voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Her response is honest, confessing that touching me does indeed relax her, it comes as a surprise to me. I find myself mirroring her gesture, my hands lightly stroking her lower back, the touch invoking a subtle shiver that courses through her.

Strange woman, indeed.

I resign myself to Zeala's unusual approach, adjusting her posture ever so slightly, as well as my own. I instruct her to clear her mind and to let go of thoughts of training, responsibilities, and all distractions. My voice is steady and commanding, a reflection of the leadership role I often inhabit. But in this private moment, it is different— I am guiding her, not as a Sith Lord or a Night Brother, but as a partner.

"Clear your mind," I remind her. "Aim for an absence of all stimuli." I watch her closely as she adjusts her position in my lap as if accommodating my teaching, her chest rises against mine as our breaths synchronize. My gaze narrows slightly, and I question whether she understands the reaction her body is going to prompt from mine. The tiniest curve to her lips tells me that she is fully aware.

I add a more challenging instruction, my voice lowering slightly. "Purge your mind of all desires." It is a test, a way to see if she truly understands the depth of focus that true meditation requires. The nature of our closeness is a distraction in itself, but I want to see if she's able to set aside even those desires in pursuit of the meditative state.

I continue, my voice a steady guide. "Let your body relax." It is a strange juxtaposition—guiding her in meditation while she's seated in my lap, both of us so close, yet striving for a state of mental detachment. It is a challenge, to the strength of her mind.

Amid the intimacy of our shared breaths and gentle touches, I guide her with a single word. "Breathe," I murmur, a directive that extends beyond the realm of meditation, a reminder to embrace the present moment.

Time unfolds with its rhythm, and our breaths intertwine as we share a moment of profound intimacy. I sense the currents of energy between us, a peculiar connection that reaches beyond the mere act of meditation. My mind begins to settle, finding a semblance of relief amidst the chaos that usually engulfs it. The weight of my responsibilities and the constant battles fade, if only for a fleeting moment.

Yet, this respite is short-lived as I detect a shift in Zeala's thoughts. I cannot read them as I would an open book, but the undercurrents of her consciousness are unmistakable. She is thinking of me. A fact that should be incongruous with the state of thoughtlessness this meditation aims to achieve.

My eyes flicker open. Her presence, so near and enveloping, is both comforting and distracting, her curves pressed against my muscled torso. My irritation surfaces as I realize that the robe she procured from me, is slipping off her shoulders, leaving little to my imagination. I inwardly grumble at the situation, annoyance, and arousal swirling within me.

Despite my inner turmoil, she appears serene, her calm façade against my internal storm. I can sense her thoughts taking a more intimate direction, a current of desire and longing that courses through her, coming off in waves, she likely does not even realize she is doing it.

It is a shift that puzzles me initially. Is she merely pretending? Yet, as I study her more closely, I come to realize that her calm is genuine, her thoughts unclouded by deception.

The peculiar absence of nothingness in her thoughts begins to have an unexpected effect on me. A sense of calm begins to wash over me. It is as if her serene thoughts are affecting me, transcending the boundaries of our physical closeness.

The act of meditation between us has transformed into something different, something more profound. It's as though her tranquility is merging with my own, weaving an unspoken bond between us, transcending the confines of language and reason.

The space between us diminishes to nothing and her body is pressed against mine in ways that make concentrating or clearing my mind impossible. I can feel my body responding to her, my cock stirs and desire floods my veins.

"You are distracting." My voice is full of discontent. “This meditation is futile.”

She suggests that if I would prefer solitude then she will leave me to my thoughts, her hands exerting a subtle push on my chest as if preparing to withdraw. In response, I grip her waist more firmly pulling her even closer, conveying without words that I want her right here with me.

Zeala's fingers embark on a delicate exploration, gliding from my shoulders down my arms and back up to my neck. The sensation is an odd mixture of pleasure and anticipation, a battle of conflicting emotions that I'm not entirely sure how to process. As her touch ventures upward, following the curve of my neck, it takes on a different quality, an almost tingling sensation that resonates through my core.

Peace and calm, which I had sought through meditation, begin to yield to something entirely different. Desire and longing gradually take their place, like tendrils curling around my thoughts.

Her voice pierces the quiet, breaking the stillness like a gentle ripple in a pond. "Why can't you sleep?" I don't respond immediately, instead, I resort to a jest, attempting to lighten the weight of her question.

“My mate is sitting naked in my lap,” I reply dryly, my words carry a touch of amusement. Her presence, clad in my robe but barely held in place by her posture, is a distraction that I find both tantalizing and vexing. It makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“Not naked,” she counters.

“Indeed, appropriate attire,” I remark, my tone sardonic as I take in the sight before me. The robe's precarious position on her form is testing my resolve. “Or lack thereof.” There's a subtle, reserved mockery in my voice, a tone I reserve solely for Zeala.

Her eyes open, meeting my gaze with a mischievous glint. “I thought you had mastered meditation,” she taunts, daring me with that enticing tone.

"Indeed, long before you were even aware of the concept," I remind her, a touch of pride underscores my words. But her next words are a tantalizing proposition, a daring challenge that holds a promise of testing my self-discipline.

“Then you won’t mind a challenge.”

She relaxes her posture completely, allowing the robe to slip from her shoulders, and it falls to the ground pooling around us, she has my full attention and she’s keenly aware of it. Astonishingly, I manage to maintain eye contact, despite the temptation presented by her actions. I have seen her naked a hundred times but the pull to touch her is as strong now as it was the first time.

“Witch.”

"Your concentration leaves much to be desired.” She observes my struggles, and it’s clear she’s amused by my predicament. “Am I still distracting you, cyar’ika?” Her voice is akin to a purr and it sets my nerves aflame.

“Yes.”

She is quick to remind me that she had offered to leave me to my thoughts, but I declined her offer. "Seems you're discontent no matter what the circumstances," she muses, her fingers continuing to trace gently following the lines etched into my skin.

"You will not be satisfied until you have driven me to the brink of madness."

"My satisfaction has never been an issue where you are concerned." Zeala’s voice is a melodic murmur meant to excite me.

Just as I am about to unleash my words in a sharp retort, Zeala's gentle touch silences me like a spell. She traces the contours of my lips, "Stop thinking," She commands, the words resonate within me and her unexpected tone leaves me taken aback. It is a tone I have heard many times from her but I have never been on the receiving end of, one that allows no room for argument. Her command cuts through my defenses, and to my surprise, I am unable to hide it, compelled to obey.

She proposes that if finding solace in the absence of thought proves impossible, perhaps I should embrace the swirling currents of my mind instead.

I cannot help but scoff at her suggestion, a retort about the fundamental principles of meditation nearly escapes my lips. However, a glimmer of wisdom in her words gives me pause.

"What are you thinking about?"

The impulse to remain guarded, to keep my vulnerabilities hidden, is strong, but I find the words escaping my lips. "You."

"Then concentrate on me," she instructs, her gaze unwavering. "My voice, my breath."

Unintentionally, defenses waiver, and my innermost thoughts spill forth as though I have no control over them. "Your scent..."

Without hesitation, Zeala acknowledges and embraces my unspoken desire. She tilts her head back exposing the hollow of her throat and I breathe deeply, allowing her scent to envelop me. "Yes, Maul."

It feels foolish as if I am succumbing to a spell woven by mere desires, not being able to resist the charms of a mere woman, all my years of training fail to serve me. I feel weak and I consider pulling away, to put distance between us and retreat into myself as I always have. I feel as though a dam is threatening to burst inside me and something primal demands to be set loose, and the lack of control terrifies me. I am not one to bow to urges, not one to be controlled by simplistic desires; I control the force around me, and I determine my fate.

But then, I feel her hands gently touching me in a way I never knew could be pleasurable. I hear the soft cadence of her breathing, its steady rhythm, I feel her heart beating, a steady echo of life. I can smell her, sense her- my mate. Mine. My arms act of their own accord and wrap around her naked body pulling her to me and I lean into her, I begin to feel myself relaxing as my posture slowly begins to shift. I begin to feel the ease of calm that has eluded me for days and I surrender to her suggestion, allowing her to now guide me.

Zeala's hands continued to trace the intricate lines of my tattoos. The air around us seemed to grow lighter and cooler, and the weight of my thoughts slowly dissipates.

In that moment, what began as a lesson has transformed into something entirely different—a union of minds and souls, an intimate connection that transcends the boundaries of the physical world. In the firelit room, amidst the flickering torchlight and ancient stone walls, my mind still grapples with the unexpected calm that has settled upon me.

Is this what people mean when they speak of soulmates?

She prompts me to reflect on the purpose of meditation, and I responded with the essence of my practice.

"To achieve steadiness and focus, and calm,"

Her approval is conveyed in a subtle nod, and her touch moves up my neck—a soothing gesture that grounds me in the present moment. As her fingers dance across my skin, I feel a sense of tranquility settle within me, as if her presence is a tether to some unexplored realm.

“How do you feel?”

Drawing a breath, I follow her rhythm, allowing her to lead me further. "Steady," I murmur, a declaration that resonated with assurance. With each breath that follows, I traverse the landscape of my thoughts, acknowledging the truth that lies beneath. "Focused."

As I exhale, a sense of acceptance unfurls within me. The word I utter holds a quiet revelation, one that carries a sense of wonderment. "Calm," I confess, the syllable carrying the weight of an unfamiliar emotion. It is a state I rarely permit myself to embrace fully.

The progression of her touch continues, lips brushing against my skin as her fingers glide over my arms and up the sides of my face, stopping tantalizingly short of the base of my horns. It is a touch that's both soothing and maddeningly teasing. A low growl rumbles in my throat, a mixture of frustration and desire as I command:

"More."

The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication, as the boundaries of our meditation continue to blur.

She hesitates only long enough to make me crave more, then those cool, delicate fingers continue their journey along my crown, from the base of my horns to their very tips and back again. The sensation is electrifying, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps and my body to shudder in response. The rhythmic motion sets off a series of reactions within me, from the erratic beat of my hearts to the hitch in my breath. I'm overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability.

Her fingers stroke the contours of my horns, and I find myself unable to control the grip of my hands on her hips. My fingers dig into her flesh, a mixture of desperation and desire fueling my actions, my body aches to become one with hers. My breathing, once steady and measured, becomes shallow and erratic. I find myself whispering a confession that I've kept buried within me. "Stay," I murmur, the words a quiet plea. "I– need you."

It is a confession that I am not accustomed to making and it catches me off guard. My life has been defined by pain, solitude, and the pursuit of power. The companionship that Zeala offers is both foreign and terrifying, a realm of emotions I have long been unaccustomed to, even feared. Yet, despite my resistance, I have come to recognize the significance of her presence in my life.

In the wake of my admission, Zeala's touch persists, her fingers weaving patterns of comfort and intrigue.

Her words, tinged with playful observation, traced a path of revelation through my consciousness. "I like this meditation." She muses, her touch brushing my earlobe in a gentle caress that gives me chills.

Her words strike a chord within me, encapsulating the truth of our shared experience. What began as a simple attempt to find solace in meditation has transformed into an intimate connection, a unique communion of shared breaths and unspoken understanding. In her presence, I have discovered a new dimension of meditation—one that exists solely between us, an unspoken language of connection and serenity.

“It is too highly flawed to be effective.” I counter, sensing the internal dam straining against the pressure of my emotions.

“You mean to tell me this doesn’t relax you?” Her voice carries genuine concern, she expects a different answer.

“No,” I growl in response, something hot and carnal burning beneath the surface and I have held it at bay long enough. "It is impossible to find a relaxed state of mind when my cock thickens and aches and every inch of my body demands your touch," My voice is thick with a potent blend of frustration and desire.

Without a moment's hesitation, my actions are resolute, and I crush her mouth against mine in a kiss that defies all inhibitions. In the early stages of my pursuit of Zeala, the concept of a kiss was foreign to me, shrouded in confusion and unfamiliarity. I struggled to discern its purpose, questioning the necessity of such an intimate gesture. At first, the notion of deriving pleasure from such an act eluded me, and I failed to recognize the subtle allure it possessed. My initial reaction was one of caution, even interpreting it as a form of aggression rather than a physical connection.

Under Zeala's alluring instruction, I gradually came to understand the depth and significance of a kiss. Through her guidance, I learned to not only appreciate its nuances but also to derive enjoyment from its intimate embrace. Over time, I honed my skills, mastering the art of the kiss and using it to stoke desire and kindle passion in my mate. With every brush of lips, I can elicit a breathless longing and a hunger for my touch, a mastery that occasionally grants me a strategic advantage, playing to my advantage in unexpected ways.

The kiss is a hungry and passionate exchange that goes beyond mere physical desire. It is a connection that transcends the boundaries of the material world. "Witch," I breathe against her lips, my voice is a low rumble infused with a blend of emotions. This term holds intricate layers of meaning—a fusion of adoration, a sense of being enchanted, and the profound recognition of the spell she casts over me.

My lips meet hers again and she offers no resistance when I seek entry with my tongue, she offers no resistance but embraces me, and her hands stroke their way up my chest. She’s pliable in my hands and I feel her sigh into my mouth with each soft stroke of my tongue against hers. Yet, I am not done. In a voice that is a mere whisper, a secret to be shared between us alone, I speak the words,

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,"

The Mando'a proclamation of love that I seldom utter aloud. Her reaction is subtle, yet I catch it, and I feel it. A gentle inhale, so delicate and filled with fondness, escaping into a soft whimper. I have surprised her, the evidence in her firm embrace that draws me nearer, her grip tightened with an urgency that speaks of her emotions.

With those words, I let her in further, allowing her to witness the vulnerability that lay beneath the veneer of my strength. In her presence, I find acceptance, understanding, and the rare comfort of a companionship that has the power to heal even the deepest of my wounds. Her scent is all over me, she soothes me and her touch leaves me wanting her closer. It is almost unbearable how much I enjoy it. I feel drunk with want and I easily negotiate her into her back, she does not seem bothered by the cold stone floor, no matter either way, I will warm her should she chill.

Her slender legs wrap around my waist, prompting a lazy thrust of my hips and I savor the sounds she elicits. My arms cage her against the floor. It lacks the comfort of the bed we share but it is too far a walk and my desire has reached its peak. I will have her here, right now.

Never before has meditation left me in such a state; ravenous, hungry, half mad, and desperate. I want to hear her cry out my name, I want all of Dathomir to hear her sing for me. And sing she will.

Her nails rake down my chest, the sensation stings at first then it just tickles, my patience with this woman is fractured and I want nothing more than to bury my cock inside her. To make her take all of me and feel her convulse in pleasure as I fuck her without quarter. I can smell her arousal now, her sweet perfume calls to me, and I can feel my mouth watering, whipping me up into a frenzy, and my control splinters further.

Those clever fingers of hers reach down my chest offering teasing touches to my muscled body searching for my trousers and pulling at the remaining physical barrier between us. I growl like a wild beast when her hand slips inside and grasps my cock, her thumb stroking the hard ridges in a way that makes my entire being falter. A breath claws its way from my lungs and I break our kiss. Physical intimacy has not been a factor in my life, not until I met Zeala but she was quick to school me in the exquisite art of release.

My breaths are shallow and I try to steady myself to gain an iota of control but she has a game she likes to play, to see how quickly she can bring me to orgasm. In this regard she is the more talented of us both, and she is doing it now. Alternating between softly and firmly stroking my cock, teasing the ridges and her thumb works circles over my head, swirling about the evidence of my desire for her. The sensations are maddening and they are made worse when I feel her lips and tongue graze my nipple. I snarl as my hips thrust into her skilled hand, her touch is fire upon my skin and I need more of it.

Kriff, this woman.

I let her have her fun for a few moments but as the seconds slip by I can almost taste her in the air, but it’s not enough, I need to savor her. Need to make her shudder and writhe against me, to make her crave the pleasure that only I can give her. No one can know her as I can. No one can touch her as I can. My grasp is strong yet gentle, as I take her jaw in my hand, conveying a desire to hold her attention. I tilt her face towards mine, wanting to lock eyes with her, to delve into the depths of her gaze, and for a moment, make our connection irrefutably clear.

I stroke her lower lip and the coy minx she is, sets her teeth upon me, her tongue darts out to lick my thumb before sucking softly.

I demand her to open her lips to me and she does with an abandon that sets my body aflame. I drink deeply of her lips before moving down her body to what it is I truly want. The softness of her breasts is too tempting for me to ignore them any longer, she moans at feeling my teeth nipping and pulling with just enough pressure for it to almost hurt. She thrives off the fine line between pleasure and pain and the revelation first stunned me. I alternate between the harshness of teeth and the soothing strokes of my tongue and lips against her nipples and her body writhes and jolts whenever I do. If I play my hand right I will have her coming undone just from my current ministrations. As time goes on the more sensitive she becomes, a trait I relish using to my advantage. Until she whimpers and she can’t control how she writhes against me, the slightest breath on her skin will send her flying higher than any narcotic could ever hope to achieve.

As I make my way down her body, my tongue dips into her navel, I can see her breathing is slow and steady but I can feel her body beginning to tense. My breath teases her where I know she wants me most. The warmth of my mouth, the sensual strokes of my tongue, she’s thrumming with need.

“Test my concentration, will you? Let us see how you fare.”

Her body opens to me with little provocation and I can feel my lust surge up, demanding I take, and so I do. Her breasts rise in a deep breath which she struggles to conceal as I enjoy her. Although I required guidance on the act of kissing, kissing her this intimately came naturally to me, and I needed little guidance. Slow, leisurely strokes of my tongue against her cunt have her keening against me, her scent permeates the air. I devour her like she’s a treat, and she is. A sweet delicacy only for my enjoyment. Her legs tremble slightly with want as I purposely avoid her clit, I can be cruel sometimes wanting to see how far I can push her till she begs me for exactly what she wants.

My witch seems to think she can wordlessly coerce me into submitting by gently touching the base of my horns once more. She pushes herself up on her elbows and her reach is extended, I can feel her eyes on me. Her fingers stroke my crown with more assertion, aiming for a less delicate approach and I feel its effects immediately. The tremors that race throughout my body and my cock twitches with need, my zabrack physiology works against me now.

A growl rumbles deep within me as I harness the power of the Forces symphony of unseen energies bending to my command. With a purposeful gesture, I direct these cosmic currents, orchestrating their unseen embrace. Her form, once upright, yields to my unseen will, her arms gently pinned above her head, surrendering to my influence.

I sense her strength, a formidable energy that dances within her, yet my connection to the vast cosmic web is more refined, more potent. I see the spark in her eyes, the intrigue of relinquishing control, of being enveloped in the inescapable grasp of my touch. It's a dance we share, a unique understanding that only she and I comprehend.

Sly amusement curls the corner of my mouth, a private expression meant solely for Zeala's gaze. In this moment, our connection pulses with unspoken understanding, a dance of power and desire, a mesmerizing duet between two souls who share something rare and exhilarating.

My hands wrap around her soft thighs giving her no means of escaping me. Only when she is at my mercy do I truly enjoy her, my lips, tongue, and occasionally my teeth tease her, coaxing more and more labored breathing from her. Her breathing transforms before my ears, a subtle shift that reveals to me her internal struggle. From the initial composed, practiced breaths, a hint of excitement and anticipation creeps in, causing a mild acceleration. But I don’t stop there; as my intimate kiss deepens, her mews and whimpers are laden with an undeniable urgency, a manifestation of her desire that resonates powerfully in the air. Her rhythm is now a symphony of need, a melody of longing. Such sweet sounds and I relish each one. Truly, I know her body so well that I could have her coming apart for me within seconds but drawing it out like this is so much more enjoyable. I have always taken my time in this act, and I will not be rushed.

The first time she cried my name in desperation, I felt a rush that nearly overwhelmed my senses. Hearing her voice, pleading for my touch, was a sensation beyond anything I could have imagined. More powerful than any Force ability I have ever utilized. The words she uttered, so filled with need, were a revelation I had not anticipated—nor had I foreseen the intensity of my craving to hear them again. It is a sensation as exhilarating as any battle won and as sweet as victory itself, yet still, nothing quite compares.

I can feel her body tighten as I stroke her warmth with a single finger, then another joins it and another. I want her ready for me, although judging by how she soaks my hand and quenches my thirst, it won’t take much to ensure she takes me effortlessly. The dual stimulation drives her harder and faster toward her peak. She continues to make sweet sounds for me and they grow in need.

I can feel when she is reaching that delicious crest, ready to tip over and I know a hundred ways in which to make her fall. She pulls at the invisible bonds that hold her down as I lap at her throbbing clit with featherlight strokes, my tongue over each growing more firm and my slicked fingers continue stroking and curling inside her until I hear it.

My name.

She’s full of desperation and there’s a need in her voice as her body is wracked with pleasure. Her hips twist and turn, her body shudders against the onslaught that is my kiss and while I slow my assault, I do not stop.

I can’t. The way she cries; “Yes, yes, yes!” And the most sinful of her cries, a fragile and wanton “Please…” I need to taste her more until she’s spent, I don’t know why, but I relish in this power. A power over her body, to bestow endless pleasure instead of pain to know how and where to touch her. To see her revel in the throws of an orgasm while simultaneously almost unable to handle its intensity.

It is a cruelty that as pleasure envelopes her, her body becomes more and more sensitive to the extent that pleasure merges and becomes one with pain. Were it within the scope of my control, it would not be that way, I would never see her in any discomfort… but I know she can take a little more.

So I push her as the waves traverse her body and she writhes against my mouth a slave to my hunger, but my only whim is to see her come fully undone again before I seek my release. It happens so quickly, it always does. It takes so little, such a light touch to her already aching and sensitive clit and she’s coming again, her lips part in a wordless cry. Her hips and back tries to arch off the ground but she is still trapped by my will, unable to move unless I permit it. She curses in our shared tongue of Mando’a, and says all manner of things meant to excite me and they all do. She cries for me to never stop but the trembling in her voice tells me she is struggling with the endless waves of pleasure and begs me to fuck her. Were I less of a man, I might have lost myself then and there to the erotic display, my mate, my Zeala lost in the throes of passion, pleasure and sex.

I release her quivering flesh from my mouth, relinquishing my hold over her, returning her freedom to her, and she’s quick to rise and return to my lap, forcing her tongue into my mouth. She overwhelms me with her aggression and it stirs something in me, knowing she isn’t yet sated and she won’t be until she feels my cock sheathed inside her body. Until I’ve marked her with my seed, I hurriedly work the trousers off my hips just enough that I can take her. There’s time later for there to be nothing at all between us but right now I ache for her, I need to feel her engulf me and feel her walls welcome my stiff cock. Need to be safe within her warmth and presence. I feel only need.

Her hands stroke the ridges on my cock once more and I heave in several short breaths, I hiss at her touch, her eyes bore into mine and I am falling into an abyss as she sinks onto my cock. The breath is pulled from my lungs and her mouth is on mine. She licks at the remnants of her release lingering on my tongue. Clutching onto me as though if she doesn’t I will fade from her grasp. Her walls grip me and I struggle to remember how to breathe. It’s always like this no matter how hard, or how many times I have her, it is as though she was made for only me. Perhaps fate has chosen to be kinder to me now, to give me such a woman.

For a moment we are motionless, there is only the sound of our breathing and the feel of her lips against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders and the sting is perfect, her thighs squeeze my legs with each slow and lazy thrust as I begin to move. Her lips part and tremble as she arches her back against me and I gain control of my breathing once more, I can never tire of this, never. Not of this act, not of this woman, the stars would burn out into nothingness first. And it is Zeala who breaks our intimate silence with a command that I can’t ignore.

“More.”

I don’t even bother acknowledging her request with a nod or an answer, I only obey a slave to desire. I have to shift our position slightly but once I do I withdraw from her and thrust back up. I grit my teeth at the sensation, the heat of her body, the slickness that coats my cock, and how she squeezes me exquisitely.

My thrusts are slow and deep at first, I need to savor each time her walls clench around me. I need to know she’s as lost in pleasure as I am. She utters my name again with greater urgency. This woman wants me. I’m a monster but I am her monster.

“You’re holding back… don’t.” She clings to me and she forces her tongue into my mouth. I accept it greedily, but I maintain my relaxed pace despite how I know she wants me. “Maul! Please…” She’s insatiable, she craves a faster pace and a harder one. Who am I to deny her what she desires?

I will rip apart the fabric of reality if it offends her so, I will tear down civilizations and erase entire cultures of the annals of history should she ask it of me.

Her fingers weave through my horns with a touch that sends pure electricity through my body and I thrust harder, faster. I can hear my grunts match hers each time I impale her on my cock. She trembles as my hard ridges stroke places in her no other man has, or ever will reach. I wonder if this was what she intended from the moment she crawled into my lap, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest right now.

I cannot manage words, only groans and growls, noises more akin to a wild beast but right now I am such a creature. Her hands on my chest cause me to slow my pace and I relent slightly, uncertain as to what she wants. She pushes me down, flat on my back and my legs straighten from the cramped position I was sitting in, a feral sound claws past my lips when she sinks into my cock and I am lost in the pleasure of my mate’s heat and her scent. The steady rock of her hips against mine racks my body with tremors as she rides me, ‘Sweet Mother’. I allow my eyes to close and the sensations to course through me, my chest heaves in a breath as my cock throbs each time she slides upon it, impaling herself. It is good, so good I cannot be bothered to think of anything else. There is no Dathomir, no galaxy, no Force, no Jedi, no Sith, nothing. There is only Zeala and I.

I force my eyes open, feeling drunk, and the room blurs and spins. Everything is out of focus, save for Zeala. Rocking herself on my cock, her hands stroking her breasts, using my body for her pleasure and only for hers. She grips me like a vice and I am powerless, truly powerless as she brings herself closer to another orgasm, I can only watch as this creature who makes my blood burn and my hearts thunder, fucks herself. Every inch of her is mine and no other man will ever see her or touch her, it incites a powerful shockwave through my body and I can feel the rush of my impending release. I can do nothing to stop it and I don’t care to. My breath comes in short gasps and I growl as those white hit waves lap at me, threatening to drown me in electric shockwaves.

Zeala slows her rocking and is quick to climb off my cock but before I can voice my displeasure; her mouth, her perfectly wicked mouth and tongue lavish my cock with attention. Her tongue licks up and down my length before swallowing me. I can feel the back of her throat brushing my head, it is perfect and something primal in me wants to see her swallow every drop of my seed I can give her. Stars this woman, then she does!

I howl as I spill into her mouth and like a hungry animal she swallows me, all I have to give. My muscles burn and my fists clench as my body eagerly greets the crest that is pulling me under. I growl her name and for a moment, I am lost to it all.

I feel everything, my body pulses in time and my skin tingles from the tips of my horns to my toes, and at that moment there is no greater pleasure, no force more powerful than this feeling barreling through my chest.

Is it moments or seconds in which my senses return to me? I am not certain, but as I come back down, my hands shake and I see my mate, Zeala, the mother of my son, mine in all the stars. Lavishing the sweetest of kitten licks on my cock, and each one sends a jolt through me, sweeter than the last. I manage to choke out her name and her eyes meet mine. A devious look flashes in those violet pools and she soothes the hard ridges of my cock with her lips and tongue before stopping.

My physiology differs from hers in that I am not nearly as sensitive to pain and overstimulation as she is, but as it subsides, my cock is hard and I am ready to take her again.

“Such a greedy thing you are, swallowing my cum. I think it is time to take you properly...” I growl. She dips her head back down and continues to swallow my length again, and I feel as though I can breathe fire. “Cyar’ika…!”

It is with some effort that I disentangle our bodies once and she hesitantly relinquishes my cock. I ache and throb from her talented mouth, but I want to bury myself inside her again.

The firelight flickers as I put her on her back and take her mouth while I tease and stroke her body. She leans into my touch and she hungers for more so I oblige her.

My fingers stroke through her folds, shuddering at the overwhelming slickness I find there. She moans into my mouth as my thumb finds that delicate little spot, that all-encompassing bundle of nerves, stoking a fire between her legs once more. I swallow her sounds, feeding off the raw desire, it spurs me on, an addiction unlike anything I’ve ever known before. One of her legs wraps around my waist and attempts to pull me forward but I shake my head at her and tell her:

“Stay still. I want to watch you tremble before me again.”

My mouth claims hers again and to my surprise she obeys me, her eyes close and she lies still while I continue to touch her. The softest touches, the ones that I know set her skin ablaze, they make her crave more and she whimpers as my lips enclose a nipple coaxing it to a hardened state. Her noises grow louder, little sighs and gasps, such lovely sounds.

I can feel her body tighten with each stroke over her silky clit, her back arches pushing those perfect breasts closer to my mouth for me to taste at my leisure. She can barely say my name, but she does say it, a choked sob as another orgasm overtakes her. She is becoming more sensitive and stars help me. I love it.

I can feel her trembling as the crest subsides and she’s trying so hard to take what I’m giving her but she’s losing the battle. I can feel her body beginning to shake, she will cry tears and pass out from the sensations before she asks me to stop. Stubborn woman. The way her blush colors her pale skin is radiant and I slow my assault on her body and withdraw my fingers bringing them to my mouth while she catches her breath.

We exchange no further words, I know what she wants. I want it too.

Our shared kiss is deeper now, a meeting and melding of souls, hungry for the presence of the other.

She rises on her knees to join me and I turn her so that her back is nestled against my chest, her arm curls around my neck, keeping me close enough that she can kiss me, and I, her. My arm wraps around her hip and I drive up between her spread legs, she greets my cock with a deep groan of satisfaction. My face is buried in the crook of her neck breathing her in, I hear her breathing, I feel her heartbeat, and I feel her walls strangle me. She is almost part of me like this, it is too perfect, and neither of us will last long in this position.

My thrusts are slower and deeper, our pace more relaxed and leisurely. A luscious pur escapes her lips when I begin pushing her back to another orgasm, her legs tremble slightly at my teasing touch as my fingers ghost over her thighs.

I am a selfish man at heart, I want what I want and nothing will stop me from attaining what it is that I desire, and right now I desire to see Zeala come over my cock. To feel her thrash against me, so lost in the throes of passion that I see into her very soul.

Her soft whimpers send bolts of lightning down my spine and straight to my cock, she grips me like a vice and my senses are flooded with sensation after sensation, nothing is more powerful than what is happening between us. The Force itself pales in comparison to the energy that exists here in this room.

She grips the back of my neck and her fingers brush against the base of my horns and it spurs me to increase my pace. My arms wrap around her now, needing her as close to me as possible, needing to feel every inch of her against me.

I fuck her hard now with wild abandon, she pleads with me to take her harder, to mark her with bruises that she will wear as proud badges, she wants the galaxy to know who she belongs to.

Me.

My body throbs in time with the very heartbeat of the universe, every nerve is alight, and every muscle aches from this exquisite dance. I cannot hold out much longer, her nails sink into my skin searing tiny crescents into my flesh and her tongue teases my lips in a kiss that burns hotter than any lightsaber.

She bites at my lower lip and growls at me, growls. She struggles to speak but tells me she is going to cum again, and she wants to feel me cum with her. She begs me to. How can I deny this creature when she pleads so sweetly?

I cannot.

I tell her with a single command, one I know she will obey “Come.” and she does! Her exquisite pleasure pushes me further and I roar as my release comes, my hot seed fills her body as we are joined in this. Her walls flutter around my cock, milking every drop. Dathomir itself seems to shake as our bodies tremble together, dissolving into pleasure. It is almost overwhelming once more, my thrusts finally slow and I feel more sated and at peace than I have in a while.

It is most certainly due to Zeala, coming in my hand has never given me the satisfaction I feel with her in my arms, clinging to me as though she cannot stand, though perhaps she cannot. Her heart beats wildly and her breathing slows as we remain tethered together for a few moments more, lost in the afterhaze of our passions.

“Now, I am tired,”

I grumble into her neck, as my cock slips from her body, finally feeling the sweet call of sleep. Although my muscles burn from our held position I would not trade this experience, nor any time Zeala and I have sought pleasure together. I will suffer through the stiff and sore muscles I’m and I will deal with them when morning comes, each throb of pain will serve as a reminder of the exquisite pleasure we shared here. And every time my body cries out in discomfort I will hear only her cries and her moans. She rests against my body and it is clear that I have tired my mate properly, her labored breathing is evident enough of that and it brings an accomplished smile to my face. Once I am able to rise to my feet and I cradle Zeala in my arms as I do. She is her most desirable now, her most beautiful, completely fucked and satisfied basking in the afterglow.

It is time to return to our bed. Even though I am able to sleep anywhere, I yearn for our bed, to feel her sleeping bare against me. And while I feel no such concept as shame or embarrassment over my naked body, I desire the privacy our room affords us that I may enjoy her warmth again.

The sheets are cool to the touch and as soon as my body rests comfortably with Zeala wrapped around me, my eyes feel heavy. Tomorrow Dathomir awaits us, but right now, I am safe with her in my arms and I feel I am finally able to sleep.

___

Wow, this was only 10k words which is like my shortest one shot to date... Guess there's hope for me after all. I am gradually working my way through my WIPs and I'm so happy to see this one done as I wrote it for a friend and I wasn't really much of a Darth Maul fangirl but I certainly am now! How did I do guys? Did you like Zeala? What do you think about a story from Mauls perspective? I personally really enjyoed writing it and maybe I'll do more with the male characters POV stories. Smutty one shot from Obi-wans POV? I would love to know what goes through that mans head while he's getting head... Sorry! Kinda spaced out for a minute! Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment and like and I will see yo uin the next one, bye

@decembermidnightso it begins...

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wild-karrde · 10 months

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Hello hello!

For this weeks fandom Friday I'd like to send in a fanfiction written by @marivenah !

It is called 'Breach the Veil and Fill the Void'

It's a Darth Maul x OC fanfiction and gives me so many sleeping beauty vibes! Mari starts of with writing two different POV starting with her OC and then jumping to Maul which was really interesting to read!

Jump over and give it a try 😊

OOOOOH one for the Maul fans! I've always loved the trope of "he's evil and murdery, but he's soft with that one person." This entire premise seems very cool, and I very much can see how you'd get Sleeping Beauty vibes from it. Thanks so much for sending this in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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summerontatooine · 1 year

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Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Darth Maul/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Darth Maul, Keshiri, Savage Opress, Feral (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Western AU, Domestic!Maul, farming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Healing, Slow Burn Summary:

Ji'Nora is a Keshiri slave serving on a farm on the frontier. Her life was simple until her master dragged in an injured Zabrak that is lucky to still be breathing. Everything about him screams danger. So, why is Ji'Nora so determined to help him?

Maul is on the run. After assassinating Sheriff Jin, he was injured by the Sheriff's Deputy in a duel. He finds himself being helped by a Keshiri woman on a farm on the backside of nowhere. Maul knows he needs to return to his Master to get new orders. But why does he delay his departure when he knows the new Sheriff is out for blood?

#maul x oc #Darth Maul #WesternAU #darth maul x female character #romance

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imaybelactoseintolerant · 8 months

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Masterlist

Commander Luthal Masterlist for super easy access and whatnot.

In Progress

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Interlude One Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen - Coming Soon!

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skellymom · 1 month

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"Vagabonds" Chapter 12

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

(Pinterest credit: Maulia)

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

To read Chapter 11:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744912201871245312/vagabonds-chapter-11?source=share

Word Count: 1.3K

Background: Flashback sequence: Love is born. Who was her father? Hunter having relationship regrets, dark and broody angst. He's got a very small part at the end of this chapter. But I PROMISE to have much more Hunter content in Chapter 13! To help with any confusion: Mad's Clone trans sister (non bio) is named "SHE" (mentioned in Chapter #9 "In The Beginning") and her name is capitalized to prevent any confusion of what character is being spoken of.

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, fainting, blood, breast milk, natural childbirth,Star Wars Canon violence, discussion of Love's genderfluidity.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap:

Several Night Sisters understood and respected Mad’s choice. And, disagreed with Mother Talzin’s methods. They helped plot secretly to assist with the intervention...some planning to leave with the Nomaadi as well.

...because Mad knew beyond a shadow of a doubt Mother Talzin was only playing at being accommodating. Mad could see the omen of celestial bodies in the sky above her. A baby born under these conditions signaled to Mother Talzin this child would have some sort of significance. She would keep the baby and NEVER let Mad’s child leave this planet.

And she would NEVER let Mad leave alive, either.

"Love's Arrival"

Mad sweating, bore down and pushed.

The baby slid out covered in a caul...silent and unmoving.

A Nightsister handed the baby to Mother Talzin.

“My child...are THEY alive?”

Mother Talzin ignored Mad’s pleas, removing the caul from the baby’s head, dropping it to the ground matter-of-factly. She passively scrutinized the new life in her hands.

“Answer me PLEASE! Are they ALIVE???” Mad was frantic, struggling to hold her composure.

One sister tied the umbilical cord, then Mother Talzin cut it with a sharpened Kyber crystal kife...glowing red.

“Your female child is alive and breathing.” Mother didn’t even bother to look at Mad. “But uncharacteristically quiet for a newborn. She hasn’t even opened her eyes yet.” Mother Talzin traced the vaguely heart shaped red pigmentation around the baby’s eye.

“THEY!” Mad spit out. “The baby is FLUID!!!”

“Oh...and WHO told you THAT?” Mother condescended.

Mad had enough of this woman’s shit. “MY child...in the WOMB! We have a BOND.”

She struggled to sit up, grabbing hold of Mother Talzin’s skirts and yanked HARD.

“GIVE ME MY CHILD!!!” Mad growled gutturally through her teeth.

Mother Talzin’s head snapped around angrily “I am standing in as proxy for MY SON. The child will stay with me until my son is ready for HIS PADAWAN.”

“Maul can kiss my ass! He doesn’t care about HIS child!!!” Mad shot back.

“We shall see when THEY fully manifest their Force powers.”

“At least you FINALLY got the pronouns right this time...BITCH!”

Mother Talzin yanked her skirts out of Mad’s grasp disgustedly. The Nightsisters around her eyed each other nervously. Then one gasped loudly and pointed towards the baby. Mother turned her attention back to the newborn.

The baby’s bright amber eyes bore a hole through Mother Talzin. She could feel it probing her consciousness. Attempting to communicate. No words, of course but...images, feelings, something deeper...

The Vardo and Beldame streaked past the group at low altitude. The ships engaged their sound alarm systems, imitating angry beasts screaming above the people below. Their attempt to intimidate and catch the Nightsisters off guard. Many of them scattered for cover. Several stayed put with Mad.

Mother Talzin stood tall still staring with interest at the baby. The baby stared unflinchingly back at Mother Talzin. The horrifying sound from the approaching ships did not affect either of them.

The ships returned for another pass, flying even lower. Then again, and again...purposely toying with their newfound enemies.

When they had enough of the Nightsisters dispersed for cover, the Vardo quickly landed and dropped a group of Nomaadi mercenaries. Men and women clad in mismatched armor, their helmets in the shapes of angry snarling predatory biomechanical animals, fitted for night and thermal vision. Large blaster weapons trained upon Mother Talzin and in cover formation to ward off rear attack.

The Beldame continued to pass over the sky above them, shrieking like an angry beast. Then circling like a hungry shark. The ship’s weapons ready to blast ANYONE who dared come out from cover to intervene.

Mother Talzin and baby kept each other’s gaze.

The Nightsisters who planned to defect from Dathomir helped Mad up from the ground.

“Give me my child. I won’t ask again!”

Mother Talzin calmly reached into the pocket of her skirts. The Nomaadi braced themselves. Several engaged their weapons from stun to kill.

She pulled out something hidden in her hand, shook it, then tossed the contents at her feet. The Nomaadi Merc in front of her flinched, expecting an explosion or witch magic...

...several small, polished animal bones hit the ground, rolled, and laid to rest just short of his boots.

Mother Talzin regarded them silently. “You may have your child. But there is a cost...”

“It would have cost to let you KEEP my child! Don’t act like you’re doing do ME a favor.” The GALL of this woman.

“YOU will never know peace. If I or my son do not acquire your child, another entity shall.”

“WHO???”

“I cannot name it. SOMETHING that will gain power over everything in this galaxy. Something dark looming over the horizon of our days. It’s coming...and NO ONE can stop it.” With that she kissed the baby on the forehead and let them go.

Mad winced, as she expected her child to drop to the ground once they left Mother Talzin’s hands.

As the Night Witch stepped away, the baby hung in midair...levitating in place. Their eyes changing from bright amber to deep yellow green. Closer to the color of their mother’s.

Mad, with assistance from three Nightsisters, limped to her child and took the baby in her arms.

The Mercs kept position with their front man training his blaster on Mother Talzin as she wandered away into the Dathomirian night.

The Beldame swooped down, hovering 3 feet above the ground, gangplank opened to receive its crew. Mad and the Nightsisters quickly boarded.

The Merc crew of the Vardo, seeing the extraction successfull let their guard down. They didn’t come planning to kill ANYONE, unless extremely necessary. The fear Nomaadi had of the Dathomir Witches proved correct, unfortunately. The fear of their REVENGE.

No sooner had the Witches gotten Mad and her baby aboard then a fire fight broke out between the Nightsisters and Nomaadi Mercenaries. Green plasma fire, red blaster bolts, screams filled the air. SOMETHING huge hit the Vardo, and the ship exploded. Its concussive force rocked the Beldame violently...

...and one of the Witches staggered backward, falling out of the open hatch. Another tried to grab ahold of her and caught open air. Mad’s sister SHE caught the Nightsister before she too fell to her death.

The Beldame’s pilot: Uncle Taavy, struggled to close the gangplank quickly to not lose the rest of the crew. Then engaged the engines to leave the planet.

But the ship shook refusing to budge. He threw the ‘Dame into full throttle. Still it refused to engage. Uncle Taavy swore a string of curses in his Nomaadi tongue.

“What the Kark is happening!” SHE yelled.

The Nightsister in SHE’s arms replied “Mother Talzin and the Witches won’t let us leave.”

Both Witches looked terrified. Terrified of what Mother Talzin would do if they couldn’t escape.

Mad had enough of Maul and his Mother. She handed her baby to the second Nightsister now seated, and purposely strode to the back gunnery. Adrenaline and anger fueled her determination.

She climbed the gunnery and slid into the seat. Through the windscreen Mad witnessed Mother Talzin and the remaining Nightsisters holding back the Dread Beldame with their magic. Green plasma enveloped the ship. Mad ground her teeth in anger, engaged the blaster cannons and started firing away on them.��

Mother Talzin blocked the blaster fire. It dissipated hitting nothing.

Mad screamed in anger, beating the walls of the ship with her fists. The space between her legs oozed blood, her breasts leaked milk...and her baby started to wail...for the first time.

The cry was strong and piercing...and angry. Everyone on the ship heard it.

And so did Mother Talzin. She seemed shocked to have done so and immediately stood down. Calling off the fellow Witches.

The ‘Dame shot forward quickly, as if let go by an invisible hand. Uncle Taavy whooped in glee, to be rid of this forsaken planet. He slammed the ship into high gear and hauled ass.

Mad and Mother Talzin locked eyes as the ‘Dame raced away. She swore she’d fight that bitch until the day one of them died. Nobody was taking her child away from her.

The adrenaline was wearing off and the burden of giving birth caught up to Mad. She slumped in the seat, feeling wetness between her legs and chest.

Sister SHE prevented Mad from falling onto the floor...

...Mad descended into darkness again...

Hunter laid on his bunk sifting through the events that transpired since he met Mad.

The throbbing pain between his legs, burning scratch on his face...the deep bite mark that FINALLY stopped bleeding.

His heart ached a bit too. Pain, love, lust, yearning, uncertainty...so much...felt like it would explode.

Cid’s words bounced around his head...paining him that she was possibly RIGHT. It was the ONLY accurate intel Cid had ever given him.

“Ya looking for a world of hurt, Bandana? “Cause that’s all you’re gonna get with that one.”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

Chapter 13 to arrive in May!

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lune-de-miel-au-paradis · 6 months

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Face to face -Maul's pow

Summary: When Maul woke up, he found himself in an interesting situation. The green eyed young woman comes and he has some questions. Is this all a part of his master’s newest plan? Or is it a new obstacle that he must overcome in order to prove himself worthy of his master?

Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of wounds, medication, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, violence. (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI! Italics means inner thoughts.

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Please enjoy reading!

dividers by Saradika

previous chapter

Maul woke up alone. Fresh dewy night air hit his nose, mixed with the scent of sweet jasmine bushes, and some salty water mixed with mold. When he opened his eyes, he saw the endlessly empty sky, framed by the leaves of a few trees, and soft grassy ground beneath him tickled his toes. As he slowly sat up, he felt the previous spasms slowly loosen in his muscles. He knew that all he needed was a little movement to relieve the feeling of numbness in his muscles as the acid fluid trapped between the muscle fibers was released. He grunted as he stood up, but he felt the familiar weight missing from his utillian belt. He looked around with feverish nervousness, but his fierce warrior hearts found peace.

He found the saber in the soft grass next to him.

The light of the three moons glittered on the cold metal as he picked it up. Such beauty from such a lethal weapon. He still admired it every time he hold it in his hands.

He looked around, someone had definitely been here. He noticed a black material with a neat square shape. It was his upper robe. Someone took it off and put it under his head. His gloves and boots were also lying next to him. This annoyed the male zabrak. According to the signs, someone touched him while he was unconscious.

He put his boots back on and looked around, but he didn't see anyone, he only could sense only the nocturnal animals of the forest and the lake. Suddenly he heard a rhythmic noise. Soft, quiet steps that didn't seem sneaky, but rather quick. He sensed from the rhythm of voices that a humanoid was approaching. So he did what he had to do, he became one with the darkness and walked in the coal of the night shadows using it as a camouflage. Taking advantage of this, he found himself in the halls of the old abandoned villa as an observation. It was a young female. Maul watched the woman silently, like a surveying animal in a situation of danger. To Maul's surprise, the female walked confidently and fearlessly in the moonlight. She was wearing black light material pants and a matching black soft blouse, the moons shined on the silky material. Her movements were graceful and light, she almost glided. It was as if she was like a spirit being stuck here haunting the abandoned ruins. Maul couldn't see her face, but for some reason he wanted to.

He soon learned that the woman had no weapon, her clothes were ordinary, so she was neither a Jedi nor an assassin.

“Would this also be a test from my Master? What should my next step be?”

The woman stood with her back to him, her dark shiny hair braided down on her back, and she opened a bag, she put it on an old ornate but worn table.

She was humming some melody that sounded like something that would be graciously played on a piano.

Then she stopped and began to listen. Presumably she felt that she was being watched. Maul saw her posture stiffen, as she looked around several times and headed straight for the lake, where Maul used to lie. So she came because of him.

Maul continued to watch, feeling rage rising through his veins. Curiosity also mixed in his feelings, he knew that the woman had no chance of winning against him, so he was also a little amused.

"What are you planning, lady? Is it really a test? Should I just kill you? Or did you come to deliver some message?”

The woman did not step out of the ruins, she stopped and looked out in the broken colored stained glass windows and silently noted that Maul's former place was empty. The only evidence of a body lying there was that the grass had fallen under the previous burden of his body. She started back to the table without saying a word, but Maul decided it was time to act and took advantage of the surprise to pounce on her.

He moved quickly, like an apex predator, he didn't have to exert much strength, in fact, it was more stressful to hold back his bloodlust.

He pinned the woman from the table to the nearest half-collapsed wall. The brick edge pressed directly on the female's spine, she tried to hold on to the two edges of the wall with both hands, thereby easing the unpleasant "spine support". From the outer side of the wall, the leaves of tall fern and leander bushes caressed their knees. The rays of light from the different positions of the moons shone directly on this point, so Maul could finally see the female's face in a very good lighting.

She tried to resist him, it was almost amusing to Maul, this feeble little struggle in the hope of freedom. Maul's left hand crossed her, pinning her against the wall with his forearm at the top of her chest by the soft column of her collarbone. With his gloved right hand, he grabbed her chin and turned it towards him, lifting it up.

When their eyes met, her eyes didn't widen with alarm or fear, but instead glinted coldly in the moonlight with some surprise and some annoyance. For a quarter of a second, Maul just watched the face, which he had only seen once and yet was mesmerized by it. The woman was doing the same, scanning his face, so he did it without shame. The freckles on her pale skin made her face look youthful, and Maul wanted to connect the light brown dots with his fingers to see what kind of constellation they formed on that pretty face of hers. Her eyes, however, were even more captivating, the iris shone like a cold jade stone, the edge was a few shades darker, as if it had been edged with pieces of lush green emerald. Now they were glinting at him a little defiantly, so Maul looked down at the mouth, which opened slightly to facilitate breathing, since his grip was strong. Tiny vibrations of fear-laced gasp trembled against his hold.

Between pink lips he saw interestingly placed teeth, between the first two front small pearl-colored bones there was a small but regular gap, when she talked it was definitely noticeable. A flaw that made her more unique and served her beauty well.

Those seductive lips began to move, and in a firm voice, as much as the restraint would allow, she spoke.

"As much as I'm enjoying this staring contest, how about you get off me?" Let's say, now!"

Maul was surprised, he didn't feel fear in her voice, well maybe a little, but he definitely didn't see any signs of panic. He didn't feel an overly intense heartbeat under his arm either. Despite the request, he didn't let go, he just loosened his grip a little.

A tendril of anger worked its way to his nerves.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" he asked.

"So you can talk. For a moment I thought you were just communicating by grunting. No one sent me, I came myself, and I mean no harm to you." she didn't collapsed beneath his weight of heavy stare as others did,

“Is that so?”

He leaned closer to her, he was almost chuckling.

"How cute of her. She thought she would have a chance against him."

Nina could almost smell the scent of smoggy city air and salt on his clothes.

He intended his movement as an intimidation, it seemed to work, the young woman uncomfortably tried to back towards the wall, this only made her clothes more dirty, but her gaze was cold and she defiantly resisted, she did not plan to show fear to him. Maul absentmindedly took her braid, his hand amusedly stroking it in his gloved hand, he bet it felt silk soft. He liked this little game, it's much more enjoyable with such a pretty creature.

"Tell me, little starlight, why should I leave your life? Hhmm?"

He not failed to notice her reaction for the nickname he gave her.

"First of all, because I helped."

"That's not good enough." Maul answered and leaned down to inhale the scent of her neck. Sweet cherries, almonds and a hint of mint hit his nose. Delicious! He noticed the goosebumps running on her skin, for his closeness, for his touch. He definitely felt smug, which annoyed her, he can see the glint of annoyance in her captivating irises.

"They're going to look for me.."

"Insignificant." Maul whispered this into her ear. "Little starlight.. Do you know how many stars disappear in a single second?

“Twenty to sixty thousand." She answered surprisingly quickly.

"Very clever one. So answer me. Why should you live? What makes you special? Are you better than those stars? Or are you meant to fade away by my saber?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, the intense eye contact said it all.

“For me, you are rather negligible, small, average.”

It ignited a spark in her. Leaning forward and smiling mockingly, she spoke:

"Oh, really? If I'm so negligible to you, then what was that little scene between us at the club last week? You felt it too, didn't you? I bet you feel it now. This pull between us."

This seemed to have an effect on him, he moved away from her and stormed at least three paces away. He didn't answer, but let out a small growl at her. Now it was Nina's turn to be smug. She began to dust off the debris from her clothes.

"I see we're facing a situation we can easily help. How about a hearing instead of an interrogation? You have questions for me, and I have questions for you. How about exchanging a little information?”

Maul just started then suddenly said:

"I could beat the answers out of you if you'd prefer. "

"Charming offer. That might make me talk, and I will tell you things, and enough of it'll be the truth to make it difficult to weed out the lies. But you won't hurt me. And I'm not kidding, they're really going to be looking for me, which I don't think would be in your best interest."

“And what makes you believe in that? What is my interest?”

"Oh, please don’t try to offend me. I don't need to be a genius to figure out that you're either hiding or either trying to get low from something. Not many people come here to this old mention, nor has a ship that just turns invisible with a device."

Maul noticed that the woman's dress was actually pine green and not black; he also noticed that the white stones on the top edge of the high neckline sparkled, as did the belt of the pants. He also noticed the milky skin on her stomach exposed by the short top. She was such a pretty thing. It would be extremely easy to end her life now, nevertheless…

“So what do you think? Mysterious guy from the club?”

Maul held out a gloved hand to help her down to the level next to him.

"That you are brave enough to act when you are about to die."

She accepted his hand. If Maul was expecting the feeling of the warmth of the hand, he was to be disappointed, freezing cold fingertips smoothed over his glove.

She was shorter than him even in heels, but she didn't have to raise her head too high to look into his eyes. Finally, she walked back to the table and sat down in one of the gothic style chairs, beckoning Maul to the one across from her, like if she’s the host in this castle. When she noticed Maul is not gonna sit down and just stays in silence, she began.

Mood board made by me, pictures are from Pinterest.

next chapter

Taglist: @stardustbee @hellhound5925 @cloneloverrrrr @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @firstofficerwiggles

Let me know if you want to be added 💖

#star wars #darth maul #oc nina cerasus #nika's writing #darth maul x oc nina cerasus #maul x nina #original character #backstory #my fic writing #naboo #romantic story #star crossed the fic #star crossed lovers #star-crossed #tragic love story #before the phantom menance

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xalygatorx · 6 months

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Worthy (2015) | Chapter 13, "Waking Up"

Disappearing sporadically in public spaces quickly becomes Cora Dempsey's least concerning problem when suddenly she captures the attention of the forming Avengers Initiative, the World Security Council, and Asgard's fallen prince all in one week. And the universe is only just getting started with her.

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC. For additional details on what canon is used, see the Prologue post.

Summary: Cora wakes in Jotunheim’s unforgiving landscape. She’s saved by the watcher of the Realms and, as such, learns something new about herself.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!OC

Warnings: Post-traumatic dream sequence that includes Cora's abusive ex harassing her and seeing her deceased parents and grandmother; grief

Word Count: 3.2k

There was a siren-like wail as the clock struck six. Cora slammed her hand down blindly, the heel of her hand just depressing the snooze button before she opened her midnight eyes.

Dragging in a slow breath, she turned onto her back, glancing toward the empty space beside her before bundling up in the covers for five more minutes of sleep. The wind whistled outside, the fragrance of redbuds mingling with smoky city smell and wafting through the crack in her window. "Just a few more minutes," she mumbled against the cotton pillowcase, sinking back into the cozy warmth her bedding supplied.

It felt like just a few moments had passed, but when she opened her eyes again, it was nine and she gasped, bolting upright just as wind gusted through her window, shoving the pane wide and sending magenta petals swirling into her room, the tips frosted despite the warm spring day.

Cora hurried to her window and slammed it shut before scampering to her closet, forgoing a shower because she was already so late to her first day of work. Nearly mauling her roommate on her way out the door, she ignored the other girl's airheaded comment of, "Hey, you're late!" as she raced to the stairwell.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Cora broke into a run again once she hit the lobby, her hand half-raised upon exiting to hail a cab when she drew up short, finding that there was absolutely no one on the street. Pedestrians stepped by in tiny, close-knit groups, but the road was entirely without cars, trucks, or even a waiting cab. It felt like she was in an entirely different city; this wasn't like New York at all.

Normally, she would've considered it a blessing—especially since she was late and it usually took her around an hour just to get through traffic—but now it was to the extreme that it was keeping her from the job she'd absolutely lucked out in getting. Cora started running toward the nearest subway terminal, glancing at the redbud petals gliding through the air just as she tripped over something she could've sworn hadn't been there before.

Cora hit the sidewalk hard, ducking as someone stepped over her and then looking back to see what her foot had caught on. Her eyes widened a little. A hammer?

No, it wasn't exactly a hammer… It was more special than that, more precious, and very—but how did she know that?

Frowning, Cora got up and smoothed out her skirt, her knees skinned and bleeding from the fall as she walked back and leaned down to get a better look.

"You can't blame me for trying, you're the one putting it out there."

Cora froze with her fingers just shy of the rune-adorned surface, glancing behind her, but seeing no one. She reached down to skim her fingertips over the surface, the feel of it familiar.

"You're just asking for it." And then the voice was right next to her ear. "You know what this does to me."

Cora nearly wrenched her shoulder out of its socket with how hard she reflexively gripped and pulled the hammer's handle, sending herself to the ground with the force of her attempt. Why couldn't she lift it? She was supposed to be able to lift it! That was the whole point of all—the point of what, exactly?

"Look at you," James sneered from nearby, watching her lack of progress with a taunting arch of his brow. "What makes you think you've got what it takes?" Cora continued to pull, trying desperately to hold it even an inch off the concrete to no avail. "You are worthless. It's about time you started realizing that."

She shook her head frantically, leaning away as James advanced, still not giving up on the weapon. It was only when he was just an arm's length away that she gave up on the hammer and bolted toward the subway, hearing him call out after her, getting progressively more vicious, "You don't know what you're doing, Cora. DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!"

Cora turned to make sure he wasn't following her when the ground felt uneven beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw a fissure forming in the concrete and didn't even have time to scream before she was falling down a hole ripping in the ground. She grappled for the edge, but missed. Cora braced for impact and it came sooner than expected with an accompanying metallic thud. Cora opened her eyes and glanced around; she was in the subway.

"Cora, dear, don't lie on the floor. It's not good manners, come sit with me."

She glanced directly beside her and there sat her grandmother, her purse in her lap and one hand extended forward to help. Cora cautiously took her hand and then gripped the arm of the bench before picking herself up off the grilled floor of the bullet train, settling in beside her grandmother. "Grandma, I was so worried, I thought you were—"

"Thought I was what, sweetheart?"

Cora parted her lips, but struggled for the right words, finally admitting, "I… I don't remember."

"Then it must be nothing worth worrying over," she said with a soft smile, glancing toward the head of the car. "I swear, your father is having too much fun with this. We're going awfully fast."

"Dad's driving?" Cora asked faintly, looking down the aisle and feeling shock creep through her body.

"Oh, yes. Your mum is navigating. Only way she could get him to use a map. He never stops to ask for directions, you know."

Cora didn't pay any mind to the nonsensical quality of her grandmother's words, instead standing slowly and holding to the aisle poles as she stepped toward the door. She saw the silhouettes of her parents in the window of the sliding door connecting the cars, her mother gesturing toward the paper she held while her father teased her and laughed when she reacted, smacking the paper against his arm. "But… This…"

"They can't hear you up there, sweetheart," her grandmother chided gently just before the car lurched and careened against the dead end of the tunnel, the entire train igniting in a rush of flames as Cora lost her balance and slipped against the slick metal floor, tumbling end over end until her back hit the car's rear entrance and she fell out, splayed against the tracks outside the inferno.

She could feel the heat of the flames fanning the backs of her legs and her spine through her jacket. I have to get up, she kept thinking to herself, her forehead resting against the track. Moisture slipped from her eyes as she forced her limbs into action, pushed herself to her feet, and listened to the crackling, sick groans of the metal as it tried to resist the fire behind her.

Cora tilted her head back and the clip fell out of her hair, splintering underfoot as she ambled forward. Her eyes scanned the ceiling of the tunnel, but she couldn't see the hole she'd fallen through earlier. How far had she traveled in the subway car before it crashed? It felt like the ride had only lasted a few minutes.

She soon found the boarding platform and scrambled up over the high ledge, standing as she brushed herself off and walked to the stairs. Her features were smooth until surprise rumpled them as she returned to the sidewalk above; the city was covered with snow.

The wind whistled past and Cora winced as she felt pricks on her arms, looking down to see that there were suddenly cuts through her jacket and red scratches on the skin beneath. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to understand it, at least until another blast of frozen redwood petals soared by, stiff with cold and nicking her wherever she was exposed.

She raised her arms to shield herself before sprinting through the snow, slipping every so often on patches of ice. Cora looked over her shoulder to check for more of the dangerous, wayward petals, but saw none. In fact, when she turned around, the skyscrapers were inexplicably gone with naught but barren land in its place, the snow higher than before. Cora slowly turned and her eyes traveled over the tall, craggy rocks piercing the frozen earth where buildings used to stand, the landscape familiar. Her eyes caught on a dark symbol shaped by the cracks between the rocks before everything went black.

Cora didn't feel cold when she woke. She was too numb to feel cold.

Her hands hurt when they flexed and, as she tried instinctively to move the rest of her body, she discovered that it was sore, too. She could feel her own heartbeat, the way her breath forced her lungs to press against her ribs, the way her blood spiraled through the vessels branching through every inch of her.

She winced the dream away and slowly sat up, whimpering as she felt sharp stings on her arms. She opened her eyes and looked down, seeing that she was lying in shattered glass and…snow? And her own blood, leaking around all the shards buried in her skin.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to process what was going on, breathing hard because she felt like she hadn't voluntarily breathed in a long time. That was when she finally remembered it: being frozen into a capsule indefinitely by orders from the World Security Council. Wait… How long had it been? And why was she awake now?

Cora slowly eased herself off the glass, looking around to see where she needed to go to avoid hitting any more of it. She shook herself around a bit to work the numbness from her frame as she cautiously stood, finally looking up to fully take in her surroundings, and what she saw nearly knocked the breath from her. It was basically her dream: frozen with rock spires, even some ice spires in the distance.

She turned in a circle, trying to spot some kind of civilization. Where was she, Alaska? Greenland? The Arctic Circle?

With a sigh, she turned to look at the capsule, which was on its side, just a few fragments still clinging to the edges of the lid. Cora rubbed at her head and muttered, "Weird dreams, eh, Steve? You weren't kidding," as she neared the metal case, shuddering at the memories which came back as she looked at it. "At least I was frozen to begin with. This doesn't feel like much of a change…" Pursing her lips, Cora figured she should get her stuff out of the compartment, walking to it and pulling on it, only to end up on her backside when it didn't give.

Squinting, she got back up and pulled harder, growling when she gave up, her hands balling into fists as she gave it a hard kick. It responded by shooting out of the capsule, knocking her legs out from under her as it flew and then skittered through the snow with a metallic thud. "Not doing so hot, Dempsey. No pun intended," she declared to herself, straightening up from falling onto the capsule end and cracking her back before approaching the ejected drawer.

After she'd retrieved the clothes she'd arrived at the SHIELD facility in and her purse, she balled up the clothes and stuffed them in with the other contents of the bag, pausing to take one more look around before abandoning the broken capsule. As she moved around, her body warmed and she started to feel the sheer chill of, well, wherever she was. Shivering, Cora figured they'd dumped her off in one of the poles to get rid of her once and for all, which would work if she didn't find shelter or something to eat.

Cora tried not to think about the blood freezing on her arms or how her eyes burned from the wind whipping at her face or how she was pretty sure frostbite might start setting in at any moment. Remembering her phone in her purse, she dug around for it, pulling it out and turning it on to get the date and time. She paled visibly as her screen flickered on and read, "May 4, 2011, 11:56pm."

"Six months…," she murmured softly as she put her phone away, running her hand through her hair and accidentally smearing blood over her cheek. "I lost six months in there. Not as bad as it could've been, I guess. If I survive this." Cora groaned as she shoved her purse higher up on her shoulder, not knowing whether to get angry or cry. Neither. Be smart. That's what's going to get you out of this.

If it hadn't been so lethally cold and she'd been on a guided tour in a parka instead of a rigid SHIELD uniform that was probably eighty percent spandex with no idea where she was, it might've been kind of a pretty place. She couldn't see the Northern lights, but that didn't necessarily mean anything; kind of disappointing though. Cora got frustrated after what felt like hours of wandering in circles, finally stopping and surveying the horizon line.

She was nearly ready to give up when she heard movement in the distance, her eyes narrowing as she listened and then took off toward it. It was running water.

Cora was relieved when she found that it wasn't a fluke or hallucination, falling to her knees beside the somehow-unfrozen river she came to and dipping her cupped hands into it. She sipped the water from her palms and, though the icy water was painful as it lanced through her insides, she needed to hydrate somehow. Shivering harder than ever, but feeling a little better, Cora got to her feet, still trying to figure out where she was when she turned around and came face-to-face with…

With something.

Definitely a something, Cora thought a bit incoherently from shock as her eyes slowly moved up the hulking beast before her with canines as long as her arms. Maybe even longer. It looked crossed between reptile and elephant, maybe with a dash of saber-toothed tiger in there somewhere.

"So, is this where all of Earth's rejects are sent?" she wondered aloud faintly just moments before the enormous creature roared in her face. "I'm kidding, you're gorgeous! I need to learn to stop with the jokes…"

She watched as it slowly sat back on its haunches, her eyes focusing on a space between the spires in the distance. She could make that… Right?

Cora slid very slowly to the side until just before the creature sprang, which was when she took off as fast as her adrenaline-pumped body could carry her over the unforgiving tundra, hearing it bleat and snarl behind her. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, wait, I've got this!

"You're terrified, idiot, disappear!" she snapped at herself, trying desperately to work a miracle as she ran for her life, having to zigzag to confuse the ridiculous cat-lizard-hippo-thing behind her.

Cora shimmered out of existence for only a few seconds, screwing her eyes shut as she heard the creature lunge behind her and knowing she was about to get eaten just as a loud blast seemed to echo from all around her, a groan from the creature a faint whisper in the background.

She started to open her eyes as she felt her feet leave the ground, but the light around her was blinding after the darkness of the snowscape, so she kept them closed, a loud umph of discomfort expelling from her throat as she hit the ground somewhere, which was smooth and blessedly warmer than where she'd been seconds before.

Panting for breath, Cora scrambled up, ready to fight the thing if she had to, but finding that she didn't need to after all. She was in a completely different place: a gold-domed room with reflective dark flooring and a pedestal at the center, where a man stood in an elaborate gold uniform of what looked like sharply planed armor. She met his startlingly orange eyes and murmured an awkward, "…Hello."

"Hello," he replied easily, his voice resonant and calm.

"Uh… Do you know how I got here?" Cora asked slowly as she stood, watching him warily. "One minute, I was running through the snow with some weird…bear after me. And now, I'm here." She'd used the loose term, "bear," because she didn't want him to think she was insane; it might discourage him from helping her even though he looked a bit nutty himself in that getup he had on.

"Of course. I brought you here," the man said matter-of-factly. "And that was no bear. That was a Frost Beast. One of Jotunheim's ugliest, fiercest creatures."

"Frost Beast? Jotunheim?" Cora repeated uncertainly before she caught onto something he'd said before. "Wait, you brought me here? How?"

"The BiFrost. A method of transportation between realms." He seemed to realize at that moment that she wasn't very knowledgeable of all this.

"Realms?" Cora repeated, her throat feeling a bit dry now. "Um… Okay. Well, thank you, first of all. I'd be dead right now if it weren't for you, er…"

"Heimdall, Miss."

"Heimdall. Nice to meet you, I'm Cora," she said courteously before she distractedly took in the room around her, spinning once to take it all in before her focus went to the multi-paned window at the front and the galaxy beyond. "Wow…"

He chuckled quietly. "It is quite a sight."

"How did you find me?" she asked once she saw that only millions upon millions of faraway stars lay beyond the glass.

"I see all," he explained simply. "But I see our kind the brightest."

"That's amazing, you can—," she began enthusiastically, but stopped once she processed his words. "Our kind?"

"That's right," Heimdall confirmed, his radiant eyes dropping to her hand, to the tattoos on her finger and wrist. "Your heart knew before your mind, I'd imagine."

"I was born on Earth though, um… Oh, on… Midgard," she said, trying to adopt the lingo since he had spoken in terms of realms. "I'm human, I'm mortal… Aren't I?"

Heimdall smiled kindly and shook his head. "Not entirely. Come, I will escort you to the palace. You seem worse for wear and in need of some rest," he said as he sheathed the sword he held and stepped down from his pedestal, substantially bigger than she was.

"Palace?" she repeated softly, even as she took his arm, trusting him and letting him help her along; she was in agony. "So, that place I was in… It was called Jotunheim?"

"Yes. You are lucky you did not encounter the Frost Giants, only their beast," he noted solemnly.

"Frost Giants, hm?" she murmured with a frown before asking, "Then, where am I now?"

Heimdall smiled and nodded forward as they stepped from the dome. "A much safer place. The place at least one of your ancestors hails from. Welcome to Asgard."

Cora glanced toward the golden city across the stretch of a bridge shimmering with every color of the rainbow, the name striking a chord in her head.

A very sour chord.

"…Oh, goddammit."

Next chapter: Chapter 14, The Blood of Ancients

#loki laufeyson #loki x fem!oc #loki x oc #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #thor odinson #thor movies #thor the dark world #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #angst with a happy ending #slow burn

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tragedybunny · 28 days

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꧁༺Star Wars Fanfiction Masterlist ༻꧂

༺ SFW ༻

Trying to Hold My Breath, Let It Stay This Way - It’s a quiet moment after a battle and Ahsoka and Barriss take a little time to just be together.

Sparring Match - Obi-Wan x GN!Reader. Reader has been invited to watch a lightsaber sparring match, too bad they only have eyes for Obi-Wan

Early Morning Negotiation - Obi-Wan x F!Reader. Obi-Wan should probably get out of bed and start his day, Reader does not agree.

Hiraeth - A story that explores the relationship between Obi-Wan and Satine; the choices they made, how those affected their lives, and the reassurance they give themselves that they did the right thing.

༺ NSFW ༻

A Different Kind of Trial - Obi-Wan x F!Reader. Obi-Wan Kenobi has come to a Courtesan House shortly after his Knighthood looking for his first carnal experience. Reader is the Courtesan that is hired for the occasion.

Little One, Little Pet - Darth Maul X F!Reader. Reader is Maul's little plaything.

༺ A Fate Written in Indifferent Star - Star War Long Fic - Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Female Nightsister ༻

The Republic has fallen and the Empire has risen. Obi-Wan lives in exile on Tatooine, the distant guardian of Luke Skywalker. Amidst the desperation and desolation, the mysterious appearance of a Nightsister draws his curiosity. As he tries to piece together her true intentions, he finds himself more deeply entangled wit her than he ever intended.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#my fanfic #my writing #star wars #star wars fanfic #obi wan kenobi #nightsister oc #darth maul #ahsoka tano #bariss offee

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corruptedmaiawrites · 2 months

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Requests Open

I wanna write more fics, so I’m opening requests in case anyone has ideas they wanna see written.

I mainly write character x reader fics, but I can do character x oc fics too.

I write for female and gender neutral readers, but as I’m AFAB myself I don’t feel knowledgeable enough to write male readers.

I can write either platonic or romantic fics.

I will write SFW and NSFW, but I won’t write anything that I feel uncomfortable with, such as inc*st, non-con, etc. Please message me if you’re not sure about something you want to request.

Here are the fandoms and characters I write for:

Star Wars

Any Clones (including OCs). My favourite clones to write are Wolffe, Rex, Gregor, Fives, Echo, Howzer, and Crosshair.

Maul and Savage

Cyberpunk 2077

Johnny Silverhand

River Ward

The Witcher (games)

Geralt of Rivia

Vernon Roche

Morvran Moorhis

Jujutsu Kaisen

Sukuna - true form and possession forms

Nanami Kento

Bleach

Shunsui Kyōraku

Kenpachi Zaraki

Kensei Muguruma

Renji Abarai

Ikkaku Madarame

Mayuri Kurotsuchi

Ghost (the band)

Papa Emeritus III

Dewdrop/Sodo

Mountain

Aether

Swiss

#requests open #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #cyberpunk 2077 fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #bleach fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #x reader #x reader fanfiction #x oc #x oc fanfiction

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rowansparrow · 2 years

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The Light Between Oceans: Chapter Seven

**This series is rated 18+, Minors do NOT interact or you will be blocked**

Summary: While checking on the wellbeing of his men, Rex meets a stranger. Meanwhile, Fives meets a stranger of his own.

Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of character death, grief, some graphic description, drowning/near-drowning, mentions of injury.

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Male!OC, Fives x Female!OC

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This will be the last update for a few weeks! I have finals coming up for graduate school and because of the holidays I will not be as active on here. This story will be taking a brief intermission after this chapter but will return the first Saturday in December. Thanks for your understanding!

Regular updates come every Saturday.

Thank you very much to @djarrex and @witchklng for their various contributions to this work. I couldn’t have done it without either of you.

Sensitive content is tagged #Ro’s Protected Tag. Please block that tag if you are concerned about content.

Reblogs are so appreciated!

Athena kissed Kiran on the temple. “Wait here for me, baby, okay? We’ll be right back.”

She stood up, leaving Kiran in his bed and instead shoving Fives out the door, shutting it firmly behind them once they were out in the hallway.

Athena narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, glaring up at Fives. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.” Fives insisted. “When we first met, you said you knew her, or at least knew of her.”

“I have no way of contacting her.” Athena replied coolly. “So whatever it is you’re plotting -.”

“Athena, Ahsoka knows Maul better than anyone. If we can contact Ahsoka, she can help us find and defeat him.” Fives insisted. “We can get Ju’Lah back.”

Athena sighed softly. “Fives, let’s just – let’s rest for now, okay? We can deal with this tomorrow.”

“No, no we can’t deal with this tomorrow.” Fives said firmly, grabbing her by the wrist and holding her in place. “Ju’Lah needs us now.”

Athena remained stubbornly quiet, and Fives scoffed.

“Fine,” he snapped, turning away. “If you won’t help me, then I’ll get Rex. Maybe he knows how to get in touch with her.”

“Fives, we can’t contact Ahsoka.”

He paused. “Why not?”

“She’s in hiding.” Athena replied firmly. “Not even Dogma knows how to reach her, and he was Fulcrum. None of us have been able to reach her directly, it’s always just contact through other people. Like Bail Organa for Dogma or the Martez sisters for me.”

“We have to try.” Fives said. “We can’t abandon Ju’Lah.”

“What’s your plan here, exactly? Recruit Ahsoka, find Maul, storm the castle and save the kid?” Athena snapped. “Wake up, Fives. We lost. All of us, we lost everything. Our home, our people, Quill -.”

“Don’t you say his name.” Fives bit back. “You don’t get to use him against me.”

“We aren’t getting Ju’Lah back.” Athena replied, her voice heavy with grief. “She’s gone, Fives. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I can’t believe you.” Fives hissed. “You’d just… give up on her like this?”

“I’m focused on the people I can save.” Athena replied. “You should be too.”

She hesitated, reaching out and touching Fives’ arm. “Saving her won’t bring Quill back.”

“Neither will abandoning her.” Fives snarled, yanking his arm away and storming off down the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Athena called. “Fives!”

He ignored her, disappearing into the darkness of the mines.

You had fallen asleep, your hand halfway inside Calder’s pram, the blankets drawn up around you. Exhaustion had won out, and once you’d curled up in bed, sleep had overtaken you quickly.

Despite your exhaustion, you woke almost immediately when you felt the bed shift, your husband rising from it and pulling his shirt back on from where he’d removed it to hold his son.

“Where are you going?” You asked, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

“I need to check on the others.” Rex said softly, bending over to kiss your forehead. “Go back to sleep, I won’t be long.”

“You need to rest too, Rex.” You tried, sitting up slightly. “Can it wait until dawn?”

“No, love.” Rex said. “I won’t be able to rest until I know all our people are safe.” He kissed your cheek this time. “Sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.” Rex flashed you a small smile, and stepped out into the hallway.

His first stop was to the medical bay, checking in on the injured. He entered quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleep of those who had survived the carnage on Dantooine, and was immediately greeted by two familiar faces.

“Tech? Echo? What’re you doing up this late?” He asked, pitching his voice low.

“We were getting a reading of Gol’Chek’s vitals, and measurements for his legs.” Echo replied around a yawn.

“The Mandalorians were kind enough to give us some supplies and a workstation.” Tech replied, not sounding tired at all. “We’re beginning work on Gol’Chek’s new legs immediately. We hope to have them completed quickly.”

Rex glanced down at Gol’Chek, who appeared to be asleep. He looked at peace, and Rex relaxed marginally, looking back to the other men.

“Keep me informed on your progress.” He said, and Echo nodded. Tech was already distracted again with his datapad and the monitors around Gol’Chek. “How’s Hunter?”

“Doing better already.” Echo replied. “His hearing was damaged, his ears will need some time to heal, it’s unlikely he’ll be at one hundred percent for awhile.”

“They’ve placed him in a bacta tank for now.” Tech added. “Last I saw, Omega and Crosshair were down here keeping an eye on him.”

“Crosshair too, eh?” Rex chuckled. “I’ll be damned.”

“He appears to have taken it upon himself to watch over Omega in Hunter’s absence.” Tech replied. “Strange. I hardly had him pegged for the type.” He shrugged, going back to his work. “If you’re looking for the others, Wrecker and Gregor have been bunked together, and Dogma is with one of the clones from Captain Howzer’s battalion. I believe his name was Finn.”

“Soteria’s on the Marauder with me and Tech.” Echo supplied. “She’s been helping us with Gol’Chek’s legs. She’s doing alright.”

“Thank you.”

He paused for a moment, and then continued. “Have either of you spoken to Fives?”

“Not since we got here.” Echo admitted. “I’m worried about him.”

“Yeah.” Rex nodded grimly. “Me too.” He sighed. “If you happen to see him before me, tell him I’m looking for him, would you? And let me know when they remove Hunter from the tank.” Rex said, bidding the two men farewell for the night. He made his rounds, checking on Athena’s injured warriors as well before heading back to the halls of rooms.

He ran into Dogma before he’d even made it fully to his room.

“Oh. Hello sir.” Dogma greeted, giving Rex a tired, half-hearted salute. “How’s your wife? And the little one?”

“All is well.” Rex replied. “I’m grateful for what you did to keep them safe.”

Dogma smiled tiredly. “I didn’t do much, other than get them below ground. You should talk to Finn, I hear he’s the one who was looking after them down there.”

Dogma pushed open the door to his quarters, and a young, fresh-faced trooper looked up when he entered. When the trooper saw Rex, he jumped to his feet, standing at attention at once.

“Captain Rex – I mean, Captain Sho’cye, sir.” He saluted.

“At ease.” Rex said gently, stepping further into the room. “I just came to make sure you were both alright, and to offer my thanks.”

“Your thanks, sir?” Finn asked, tilting his head to the side so his ginger curls bounced against his cheek.

“Yes, I’m told you did a great deal to protect my wife and son in the tunnels.”

“Oh.” Finn shook his head. “No, no I didn’t do much. I just saw her with the little ones and thought maybe someone should keep an eye on them, that’s all. She’d been through so much and she was clearly exhausted so I -.”

“It’s alright,” Rex soothed. “Thank you, Finn, was it?”

“Yes sir.” Finn nodded. “I was one of Howzer’s men.”

Rex softened. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Finn nodded, swallowing roughly. “Yeah. Me too, sir. Thank you.”

“Did anyone else from your battalion survive?”

“Negative.” Finn answered automatically, though his eyes were shining. “I’m – I’m the only one left, sir. I only survived because I was underground with the others.” He dropped his gaze, staring at the floor. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve – I should’ve been helping.”

“You did what you were supposed to do, soldier.” Rex comforted, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You protected the civilians underground. You kept people alive. It’s what Howzer would’ve wanted you to do.”

Finn nodded, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. “Thank you, sir.”

Rex hummed, pulling the boy forward and wrapping his hand around the back of his neck, tapping their foreheads together in a moment of silence.

“It’s hard to be the one who survives.” Rex murmured. “But you aren’t alone, Finn.”

Finn sniffed quietly, pulling his head back. He wiped at his eyes for a moment, inhaling a sharp breath before at last turning back to the bed.

“Get some rest, both of you.” Rex told them. “We’ll regroup in the morning.”

He squeezed Dogma’s shoulder as he walked by, stepping back out into the hallway. Something skittered around the corner a few feet away, and Rex jumped, raising an eyebrow. He followed the sound, poking his head around the corner just in time to see a small child fleeing the scene, a cloak billowing out behind him.

“Hey.”

The child stopped once he made it safely behind a pillar. He peeked his head out from around the column, dark eyes framed by dark hair poking out from beneath the hood of his cloak. It was the first time Rex had seen the face of one of the Mandalorians, even if it was just a child.

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you.” Rex said softly. He crouched down a few feet away, holding out his hand. “Come here, little one. What’re you doing running around by yourself this late at night? Are you lost?”

The child peered out a little further, stepping out from the shadows but keeping his hood pulled up tight around his face, as though he didn’t want Rex to really see him. He looked to be around eight, maybe a little older.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” Rex said again. “If you’re lost, maybe I can help you get to wherever you’re trying to be.” He offered gently. “Come, I’ll help you.”

“I’m not lost.” The boy said finally, and Rex wondered if he was older than he looked. His soft eyes made him seem young. “You’re a clone, aren’t you?”

Rex nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

“You fought in the Clone Wars?”

“I did.”

The boy frowned, looking at Rex almost accusingly. “Why didn’t the Republic ever come to Aq Vetina?”

Rex blinked. He knew that the planet had been overrun by Separatists late in the war, but the Republic’s forces had been concentrated elsewhere, and the planet fell to the droid armies. “I –.” He shook himself, starting over. “Is that where you’re from?”

The boy stepped a little closer, and then gasped softly, looking at something past Rex.

Rex looked over his shoulder just in time to see Wolffe’s familiar chest plate step up behind him, and the former clone commander sighed.

“Din,” he called quietly. “How many times have you been told to not sneak around the mines at night? Why aren’t you with the other children?”

“I’m not afraid of you.” The boy replied. “You don’t frighten me.”

“You should be in bed.” Wolffe continued, stepping up to Din even as the boy took two steps back, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

“I wanted to meet the clone.” Din insisted. “If you won’t answer me, then maybe he will.” He turned back to Rex. “My parents died because the Republic abandoned our planet, our village. Where were you, then?”

“Easy, Din.” Wolffe said, his voice a little firm. “Go. Back to bed with you. I thought you would’ve been exhausted after training with Paz all day anyway.”

The boy scowled, though on his face, it looked more like a pout, and Rex stood up, watching as Din turned, taking off again down the opposite hallway.

“What was that about?”

“A group of Mandalorians helped defeat the Separatist occupation of his homeworld, Aq Vetina.” Wolffe explained. “He’s a foundling, he was brought here by the warriors who fought in his village. He’s being raised in the way of the Creed, but he’s still young. He has some anger toward the Republic.”

Wolffe sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose it’s not entirely unearned anger. The boy lost his family because we weren’t there to protect them.” He nodded his head in the direction Din ran off in. “When he comes of age, he will swear the Creed.”

“Is that why he can still show his face?” Rex asked.

“For now. He’s still young.” Wolffe groaned softly, cracking his neck.

“Dogma told me you swore the Creed as well.”

Wolffe chuckled. “Yeah, guess their numbers were so low, they were willing to take just about anybody.”

“What is it?” Rex asked. “The Creed?”

Wolffe tilted his head at him. “You have bigger concerns to worry yourself over.” Wolffe replied. “All you need to know is I’ve found my place. Besides,” Wolffe nodded to someone over Rex’s shoulder. “I believe someone needs to speak with you.”

Rex turned. Athena stood in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest but her expression one of concern. “What is it?” He asked.

“Have you heard from Fives at all?”

“Not tonight, no. I’ve been looking for him.” Rex shook his head. “Why?”

“We – we had an argument earlier, and he stormed off.” Athena explained. “I went looking for him, but I can’t find him. I think he’s left the compound.”

“He’s what?” Wolffe’s voice was urgent behind the helmet. “He went outside? Now?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Athena’s concern only grew deeper. “Why? What’s out there?”

“Lock down the mines.” Wolffe said into his commlink, brushing past both of them. “Seal all entrances and exits, we have a breach.”

“Wolffe.” Rex insisted, jogging to keep up with him. “What is it? Should we go get him?”

“No, stay put, let us handle this.”

“Wolffe, what’s out there?” Rex demanded.

Wolffe turned over his shoulder.

“Monsters.”

Fives trudged his way through the woods, blindly stumbling along in the darkness. Kriff, he should’ve brought a flashlight, or something to help him navigate the dark. The two moons that shone over Ataxia afforded a fair amount of light, but Fives still found himself tripping, muttering curse after curse under his breath as he stormed through the woods.

Fives had slipped past the Mandalorians guarding the outside of the mine and made his way into the woods, and for what felt like hours, he’d been roaming the wilderness.

He tripped for the second time in as many minutes, but this time he couldn’t catch himself, and he fell forward, his previously injured leg flaring up in pain as he fell.

“Kriff!”

Tears of pain and frustration sprung to his eyes, and Fives wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. He felt like a snot-nosed cadet again, and forced himself to calm back down, willing the tears to subside.

He sniffled again, drawing his legs up to his chest and setting his forehead on his knees, the tears only growing stronger as he held himself.

“I miss you.” He whispered aloud, the tears dribbling down his nose and onto his knees. “I miss you so much.”

He leaned his back against a nearby tree, letting the grief wash over him. Quill was dead. Fives would never again hear his voice, never feel the way his tendrils would wrap around him, holding him close and dear. He would never again swim out to the water with him, listening to the way he called to his gods and goddesses as he -.

Fives gasped, jerking his head upright.

Water.

Fives pushed himself to his feet, stumbling around in the darkness again. He could hear insects chirping around him, and the rustle of creatures in the trees, but Fives paid them no mind. He rushed forward, searching blindly for a river, a creek, anything, any source of water.

He found salvation in the form of a small pond, half-hidden behind trees and plant life.

Fives rushed towards it, stripping out of his clothes until he was left in just his underclothes, and he waded out into the water. It was chilly, biting at his skin with every step, mud seeping up between his toes, but Fives didn’t care.

“Nephto.” He said breathlessly into the darkness. “Please… let me see him.”

He took a deep breath, and dove under the water, fully submerging himself. He held his breath for as long as possible, eyes blinking in the murky haze of the water, before he resurfaced, coughing and drawing another deep breath, repeating the same process.

Nephto, please, let me see him. Show me Quill. I beg you.

He repeated this process three more times, until black spots began to swim in his vision, and he came up for air again, sputtering and coughing as his lungs burned.

Let me be part of the water, too.

He grit his teeth, closing his eyes and diving under one last time.

Let me be with you, Quill.

He pushed the air out from his lungs, ignoring the way they burned and screamed for air. He stayed submerged, staring out into the watery dark.

Don’t go where I can’t follow.

He inhaled reflexively, water flooding his lungs, and his instincts kicked him up towards the surface, and Fives struggled, realizing a beat too late that he’d stayed underwater for far too long. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t tell which way was up. He’d kicked up too much mud and he was blind in the darkness of the water.

Something grabbed his leg.

Fives kicked, panic seizing him as he struggled below the water, tossing up mud into the water with his frantic movements and further clouding his vision. The hand wouldn’t let go, dragging him backwards – deeper? No, no towards the surface. Which way was up? Which way was down? – He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He was starting to black out, his vision fading and clouding around him as everything began to drift away.

Whoever was holding his legs switched to instead hold his arms, dragging him back, back, back until Fives’ head at last crested over the surface of the water.

He was dragged backwards onto solid ground again, and he coughed, vomiting up water and gasping for air as he pushed himself to his hands and knees.

Fuck, he’d nearly drowned.

He coughed again, scrubbing a hand down his soaking face as he began to shiver, the cool bite of the night air catching up to him again. He lifted his head, expecting to look into the eyes of his rescuer, and instead was met with a pair of legs.

He kept looking up. And up. And up.

The figure was tall, even standing a few feet away and half shrouded in darkness, Fives could tell it was massive. Its legs were double jointed like that of a bird’s, with long, powerful arms gripping what looked like a bow. Its large head was fanned by two giant ears, both pricked up at attention as a pair of coal black eyes stared Fives down.

“Holy shit.”

The creature tilted its head at the sound of Fives’ voice, cautioning a step forward. As the moonlight washed over the creature, recognition seized in Fives’ chest.

“You’re a Garbak.”

Tag List: @brokenphoenix99 @wild-karrde @theroguesully @jesjestraverse @clonecyaree @book-of-baba-fett @ladykatakuri @djarrex @literallydontlook @bobafettuccini @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @a-c-lee @chromia7567 @embarrassedauthornerd @itsagrimm @seriowan @gotomarvelgal @space-b33 @moonstrider9904 @writingbylee @witchklng

#Ro's protected tag #TLBO #The Light Between Oceans #Ro writes

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wild-karrde · 1 year

Note

A Darth Maul and OC fanfic from a friend. Her handle is herbalinz-of-yesteryear. And here's the link https://archiveofourown.org/works/41824830/chapters/104940210 It's a great OC fic, very layered OC and very in-character Maul, the writing is tight and the character dynamic is interesting (a bit of enemies to lovers), and there's so much neatly expositioned lore of the sw universe. It reads like a legend fiction honestly. I love it especially because of the introspection Savage gets in his chapters, actually. He really deserves more to be written about. Also she just updated this week so yay

OOOOOOH a Maul fic you say? And the enemies to lovers trope would fit him PERFECTLY. @herbalinz-of-yesteryear's premise has me completely intrigued, especially the blurb about Edessa and her journey. And I COMPLETELY agree with you about Savage Opress, and I always get hyped when I find a fic that features him. Thanks so much for sending this in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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qvnthesia · 5 months

Note

It’s been a bit of a rough year for you (and us), but throughout that, you’ve managed to build many OCs and outlines. What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start and how much of it is intentional/planned?

(my reaction the second i finished reading the question)

While we definitely be hanging onto our lifespans, I indeed have somehow managed to create a grand total of 10 OCs (yes, I just checked the number and my eyes just went 👀).

Special spoilers for ye faithful and ever-loving readers of mine — the OCs belong from a range of fandoms, which are Marvel, Fantastic Beasts, the Hunger Games, Star Wars, X-Men, and Kingsman 😏

(coming back to the main point)

Why OCs?

I got frustrated and cringed out by the use of Y/N — and still do. Honestly, there are so many stories I've read that have impeccable structure and flow... until I have to read things like 'why-en' and 'why-slash-e-slash-see' (y/e/c) and it just distrupts the overall imagery you're building up in your head as a reader/writer and just sounds extremely stilted when it's overused.

This is THE main reason why I'm also going to be re-writing two fics of mine, replacing 'Y/N' with proper OCs, because I'm just too tired and embarassed of employing the usage of the term.

What’s your thought process while you make character profiles and backgrounds? Where do you start?

Suppose I'm writing a fic oriented around Obi-Wan Kenobi and a female OC during the Clone Wars time period. Here's how my thought process goes.

[Note that all of these points have to executed TOGETHER in order to create a satisfactory OC.]

Make your OC subtly unique. Whenever people tend to write OC fics, they always make the OC stand out to the reader, characters and the fic universe, which isn't supposed to happen. Part of creating an OC is to make them unique to the characters at the beginning of the story. That's it. A common example is that a majority of the OCs always end up having a double-bladed lightsaber with an uncommon colour. While that may look aesthetic, that just makes them stand out from a physical perspective. That's not the point - make them stand out from an internal perspective, i.e., by their thoughts and their problems. After all, your characters drive your story ahead - like when Anakin chose to kneel before Sidious, and when Luke chose to throw away his weapon because he wanted to be a Jedi just like his father before him.

Establish your OC's future relationships. They do say the company you keep ends up defining you and your choices. If I'm making my Star Wars OC a Sith, the logical thing for the OC would be in association with Sidious, Maul, Dooku, or the Separatists. If the OC is a Jedi, than a logical association would be to be childhood friends with Obi-Wan if you're going for friends to lovers, or a (former) padawan under Mace Windu and indulge in a rivals to lovers dynamic - or if you love the age-gap thang, you could have a master-padawan dynamic with the OC being a sister/friend to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Assign a set of characteristics to your OC — even the physical look. Why I'm saying this because while you're creating an OC, racial dynamics always matter. You can't run away from them, because they are a reflection of problems in reality - which are what all stories are in some manner or the other. How you create the look is a method unique to you.

Coin a name for an OC that tunes in with the vibe of your fic's universe and your character's personality. When you say 'Oh-bee-wan-key-no-bee', it's like a rhyme - there's a sense of synchronicity felt in the name when you say it. You can feel the same when you say Ahsoka Tano, and (-going off-universe-) Steve Rogers, Raven Darkhölme, Cersei Lannister, Darth Vader, Haymitch Abernathy, Natasha Romanoff, Theseus Scamander, etc. You could add middle names [Lucy Gray Baird], use alliterative names [Peter Parker] or use nicknames [Eggsy Unwin]. Names with meaning are also appreciated, but as long as they smoothly roll-off the tongue [Perseus 'Percy' Jackson] - even a ridiculous one, like Lester Papadopoulos, gets pulled off if it rolls off well.

Flesh out your OC. Strengths, weakness, potential reactions to seeing characters and being put in risky situations, everything. The more you get to know your character - and the in-universe lore - the more you can write them well.

Make it make sense - if your OC's as committed as a Jedi than Obi-Wan, maybe even more, why? What's their reason? What drives their spirit? If your OC's destined to be the most powerful Sith in existence and be a threat to Sidious' potential, how and why? What were the circumstances? The backstory? Don't go ahead and make your OC a messiah out of nowhere with no logical explanation. It's not just the backstory, but also the character's internal drive of morals, limitations and decision-making that make up the character's strengths and flaws.

P.S. Plotting is 10000% recommended, but as I said, the method/process is always unique to you.

'How you create the look is a method unique to you' - what methods do you use?

There are certain actresses/actors that always end up coming in my mind when I'm in the middle of creating an OC. Thing is, I'm comfortable with using present actresses/actors because I know the boundary between the character and the actor. I only use them for the look and the action scenes, nothing more. I also use ChatGPT (input a prompt and adjust it to my needs) to seek suggestions since I'm picturing real-life people as the physical manifestation of my OC.

If you're not comfortable with my methods, that's okay! You can use any illustrations or random face-claims you find, it's YOUR character and YOUR story 💖🎀

And finally...

...how much of it is intentional/planned?

It always begins as planned, but then I plot the story and eventually it becomes 50% planned and 50% intentional/instinctual.

Thank you for your ask <33 Have a lovely day/night ahead!

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lune-de-miel-au-paradis · 6 months

Text

Power of names

Summary:. Nina and Maul get to know each other a little better. They are still at the old ruins of the villa. Pairing: Darth Maul x OC Nina Cerasus

Warnings: Mention of wounds, violence, medication, anxiety, mutual pining, idiots in love, angst (Let me know if I left out something.) Minors DNI!

AN: This fic means a lot to me and I worked on it a lot. If you have any advice or comments, please share them with me kindly. I'm posting for the first time in years and I don't want nasty comments to discourage me from posting again. Remember it’s a slow burn! If you don't like it, please go to another blog. I did my best to translate it, so pls forgive me, English is not my first language.

Please enjoy reading!

previous chapter

Divider by the lovely Saradika

"My idea is that we use the one answer for one question method. Truth for truth." she spoke.

Maul found this quite interesting, he didn't know the woman, but he never thought that she could be like this. In fact, he had never met a woman who was the way she was. Sure he met Komari Vosa and a few nameless female jedi, but as a non force user, a young woman she was quite an amusing little thing.

That if she was brave or brazenly stupid, he couldn't decide it yet. She was definitely beautiful in his eyes, but even then it didn't mean much. He killed much prettier faces before.

"Why are you here?" he asked, voice in low and a bait imperious.

"I told you, I helped you. Remember? You got blacked out about a standard hour ago."

"You were here before I saw ... "

"One question, for one answer." She beckoned.

Maul just looked at her for a minute, trying to get into her mind and see if she was serious or just a lunatic. It didn't work. He ran into mental walls.

"Now it's my turn. Are you some kind of stalker?"

This hurt Maul's pride a little. He thought about how easy it would be to break that pretty neck of hers. Nevertheless, he held back.

"No" he answered simply.

"Then..."

"One answer for one question." Maul mimicked her pronunciation mockingly.

"I offended you." she said.

"Now it's my turn." growled Maul harshly. He never liked being interrupted.

"I didn't ask, I just stated." she shrugged. Maul let that comment slip into the dark night and instead he asked her:

"You just pointed out that not many people go around here. Then what were you doing here? A lady like you alone in the forest."

"I’m not alone. You are here aren't you? Anyhow I came to stargaze. Then I saw you curled up like a deformed shrimp, and noticed you might need some help." the woman pointed to the telescope. "You?"

"I came here to wait. Did you take my clothes off?"

"Now you say this as if I approached you with dirty intentions." She frowned. "Yes, I took off some of the pieces of your outfit, because your body was hot as fire, I was afraid you would go into a fever shock.”

“And yet you left a wounded male behind and left?”

“Well I figured that you wouldn’t be so happy to be woken up in the hospital. From the fact that when I tried to put a poultice on you, you growled at me and pushed me away. Plus, you're quite heavy, I couldn't have carried you with me, and the ambulances don't come down here, the vegetation is too dense. So I went for medicine and some food.”

“Are you planning to hurt me?” she asked after a short pause.

“That depends. Did you touch my saber?”

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed.

“Look this thigy seems quite personal in your culture. I know it's a weapon, so I didn't even plan to hold it or play with it, lest I hurt myself. That's why when it rolled off your belt I preferred to leave it there.”

Silence settled over them, Maul weighing the facts, seeing no sign of a lie. He was skeptical though.

“So. No comments? Are you silent-treathing me?” she asked and he eyed her.

“What reason would I have to believe your words little starlight? You could lie. You are obviously very good at that.”

“How do you know that?”

“You have the qualities for what it takes to speak like a senator or a lawyer. Twisting the thread of truth is also a kind of lie, little starlight. "

"But If I were a liar, wouldn’t my lies be valuable to me, to negotiate with you?” she asked, a cunning glint in her eyes.

"Probably. But I have already guessed that you have the ability to show your false image to the world.

Her eyes widened only for a moment, then she changed the subject.

"You hungry? I brought some food for you.”

She had to do something. The silence was becoming awkward. The male zabrak saw through her during one single conversation, and she doesn't like that. She began to take out of the bag what she’d brought. The male followed her every move and Nina did her best not to look at him. Because the longer she looked at him, the more attractive he got in her eyes.

He was tall, and despite the many clothes, his muscular frame was visible. Nina already noticed this when they first met. However, now the male was not wearing a hood, so she could easily see his face. He was captivating in every way. Nina liked the tattoo marks that accentuated his features and made him dangerously handsome. And that pair of eyes, which haunted Nina for days and nights in her dreams. She felt goosebumps from his wild eyes when they’re watching her. While they were talking she counted his horns. Ten of them adorning his skull like a haunted crown.

He had mysterious aura surround him and had a face so exquisitely chiseled it could’ve been sculpted by one of the ancient nabooan artist.

He was quite possibly the most beautiful and the most dangerous man she ever met.

“So this is soup and I brought bacta and some pain killers. You need my help with the wounds?”

He only glared at her site. She let out a tired sigh.

“Don’t be a thick skull! I don’t know what you’ve been through but you need to be taken care of.” she tried again with a faint smile. “I promise it’s not poisoned or anything. Remember I was in a rush, maybe next time.”

Maul only lingered in the quiet contemplation that settled between them.

“Fine, suit yourself. But I have plans for my evening.” she told him her green eyes shine coldly, and from her voice Maul could feel that he offended her.

Nevertheless, it did not escape his attention that indeed she did not ask permission nor mercy to let her go. She simply ended the conversation and left. How arrogant of her. Nevertheless she managed to earn his recognition for her bravery. It was kind of refreshing. Almost the biggest compliment in his vocabulary.

He only followed her with his gaze, and casted his shadows out around her. Trying to find a crack on her shield to read her, while she was bringing her telescope out to the old garden. He successfully slipped in a small crack. Her thoughts were available for him now.

She was annoyed by his silence, and this made him amused. But he watched her forgetting about him and concentrating on the stars instead and he felt that a specific kind of nostalgia settled around her aura.

What an odd hobby. Watching the sky. What could happen? Ships come and go in the atmosphere. The stars are just as dim, and none of the observed ones are necessary for orientation. Then why does she care about them? This seemed like a waste of time to Maul. Still, by the time he realized it, he was standing outside a few steps away from her. He rolled his eyes at himself. Pathetic.

Maul was surprised, she wasn't even scared of him. She simply treated him as if she had been waiting for him. It's like he's known her for a long time. As if they already belong to each other on some level. Maybe it was possible, but he doubted.

He didn't know this feeling, but warmth spread in his stomach, tingling all over his body. He didn't move, he just looked calm, collected and not able to be readed. It was as if he could have stopped this one moment in time like this, stretched it like a movie screen and viewed it detail by detail. Maul could feel how much a single moment could change everything. That this moment would be important in his life, but he didn't know how yet.

The young woman looked at the sky through the telescope, probably spying the comets that pass each year. She looked full of life and cheerful, her eyes sparkling with excitement as if her irises had been sprinkled with a sea of stardust. When she noticed that Maul hadn't moved, she looked up and closed the distance between them a few steps, holding out her hand.

When she smiled, he noticed her dimples, the small wrinkles around her eyes, and the gap between her front teeth. No one had ever smiled at Maul before. This was new. It wasn't mocking, or contemptuous, or fear, it was just a cheerful and friendly smile that she gave him. Or was she a crazy person? Smiling at him, someone who meant to be a nightmare to the ones who saw his face.

"How about a fresh new start? My name is Nina. Nina Cerasus.”

Her voice was feminine but a bit hoarse. Maybe he was too rough with her.

Maul found it ironic that her name in old language was the same as the drupe fruit of the tree that smelled like the perfume she used, and whose pink petals dappled the snowy ground of the planet Carlac when it bloomed. Her other name meant grace.

"You haven't given me your name. I can't call you a mysterious stranger every time we meet." she laughed faintly, not breaking eye contact. “ My grandmother said that a name has power. If you don't know someone's name, you have no power over them.”

“What if I don’t want you to have this kind of power?” he asked, but he knew at that moment it was late for that. She affected him in some way, since they met.

He wasn't able to concentrate while he meditated, he felt frustrated all the time.

Maul felt uncertain, when he was in an uncharted unknown place, there he could always refer to the Force. This time it's different somehow. The Force was whispering to his intuition, so he answered by it.

“Maul.”

He accepted the hand extended to him. When his fingers slid into her palm, the Force for a moment created dim images, they were more part of some sort of feelings than clear images. It showed him feelings of nostalgia for future memories. Nevertheless made sense to him, that was the moment when Maul knew that his fate was partially intertwined with Nina's. The average, non-Force sensitive Nina.

Since he told her his name he realized that he would always be Maul to her. Not Darth, not Maul the apprentice, not the assassin, just Maul heir to Dathomir.

He only remembered this name. If there was another and different before, it no longer belonged to him.

What wise words were spoken by her relative.

His master really had Maul under his control, as he had given him that name when he earned it.

He wondered about this when Nina tried to show him a couple of comets up close through the telescope. He still didn't understand why she was special, but even if impulsively and unexpectedly, Nina showed a little bit of herself, just for him,her mental walls were nowhere to be found. This made him feel important for some reason, in a way, he couldn't grasp a thought about but felt …

Her eyes drifted to the colorful comets before they drifted back to his. His hearts slowed a fractions of a heartbeats. He noticed the heat rush back to her pale skin on her cheeks. This made tiny crackles of electricity hum under her gaze. It grounded him with such a weight that it took a big amount of willpower not to step closer to her. Instead he shake off the strange sensation and stepped back.

Then he left for his ship, he felt that he needed to give back her space. Never even think about her that night.

The golden and crimson lights of dawn reflected on his black attire as he meditated on the grass. This time with success. This was what his mind was so wrapped up about. Nevertheless he went for a walk to clear his thoughts before his morning training began.

She was almost out of the woods in the clear between the forest and the house. He stood before her and in his stretched hand was her bag, which she brought earlier for him.

When their eyes met, he clearly felt the young woman's attraction to him. The green in her irises seemed even brighter in sunlight like jade crystals in crown jewelry.

"I didn't mean to disturb your meditation." she spoke softly.

“Maybe I’ll see you again. “ he said.

“Maybe you will, Maul.”

She meant it, but never promised anything.

This was the first time saying his name out loud. The name slipped softly and elegantly from her lips, and he liked the sound of it as if it was a whisper into the receding night.

She felt her mood swift to this new sensation, excitement and the colorful stars she saw. Meeting him was indeed like watching a handful of shooting stars in the sky. Suddenly the ruins felt less quiet, buzzing with some sort of disturbance. It was dark, but comfortingly dark, the one she always knew.

Then she turned away and went home, leaving the moment fading away, with a half smile on her face.

next chapter

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#darth maul #star wars #maul #oc nina cerasus #nika's writing #darth maul x oc nina cerasus #maul x nina #original character #backstory #my fic writing #naboo #romantic story #star crossed the fic #star crossed lovers #star-crossed #tragic love story #before the phantom menance #starcrossed

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