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tatooines-ghosts · 1 year

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Ah! I am so obsessed with your No Jedi Allowed AU. Would literally squeal if you posted another drabble. *fingers crossed*

Oh Anon, thank you! I'm so glad you like the AU. I am sad to say it has been kinda shoved to the back burner and I haven't been able to give it the attention I would like over the last couple years. The next chapter has been like, half-finished for a very long time, and I work on it very sporadically.

That being said!

Ask for a drabble and you shall receive! Have a little bit more than a drabble (a good 2k words), featuring a Certain Scene from AOTC.

✨✨✨✨✨

Jango gave the Starfighter on the landing an appreciative inspection. It was a brand-new model, beautiful, compact, fast, powerful. He would have loved to give a ship like this a spin. Anakin too would probably turn this ship into a delightfully lethal weapon. He took a scan of the ship and collected its specs for her perusal later, and it would be a good test for Boba. He noted the droid, more suited for navigation and maneuverability than weapons, which was an unusual choice. The way this ship’s guns were mounted, it would be easy for a pilot to take off their own nose if they didn’t properly calibrate the guns before firing. Said calibration would be done best by a droid, or an extremely skilled pilot and marksman – someone like him.

But Jango knew this wasn’t another bounty hunter’s ship. This was something potentially much worse. A Jedi.

He hurried back inside setting off quickly for his home.

Anakin was pacing anxiously around the living room with Lykan in her arms. “Who was it? A bounty hunter? Are they here for me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jango said calmly. “Looks like a jetii, must be here to inspect the army.”

“You’re sure?”

No. Jango couldn’t be certain until the jetii left planet without sticking his nose into his allit’s business. It was entirely possible this was an imposter who had caught Anakin’s scent. Or perhaps this was the same jetii who had seen him on Coruscant. He may be here on a manhunt, but not for Anakin.

If he was here for a troop inspection, it was entirely likely that he would ask to meet Jango. Would he be better served having them all bug out before the jetii showed up?

No, there was sense in running and acting guilty if this happened to be a coincidence. No need to run from an opponent he knew nothing about. And if it came down to a fight, he could handle himself against a lone jetii.

“Jango, what do we do?” Anakin asked in a tight voice. Lykan began to cry and fuss in her arms – hungry little complaints.

“Nothing, act natural. I’m going to shower. If he shows up, I trust your judgement about letting him in. The jetii should have no reason to hurt or bother you.

Obi-Wan's mind was spinning as he followed in the wake of the Kaminoan's long strides. It made no sense that Master Sifo-Dyas would have commissioned a clone army without the Council knowing about it, or the Senate. And yet, here were millions of soldiers engineered to fight a war on behalf of the Republic. Who had paid for them? He hoped that the man used as template for the clone army would have some answers.

He perked up as the Force stirred around him, warm, comfortable, safe. A little vortex of happiness in the otherwise pretty inert facility. Curious. His escort, Taun We, stopped outside a door and pressed her finger to the panel. A soft chime sounded before the door slid open. A young boy stood there, looking at Obi-Wan with some skepticism. He doubted they had many visitors out here. That must be the unaltered clone Jango took as part of his payment, his son.

Taun We addressed the boy. "Boba, is your father in?”

“Yep.”

“May we come in?"

The boy looked over his shoulder. "Sure." He stepped aside to let them into the apartment and called out, “Ani, Taun We’s here for Dad.”

The warm contentment concentrated inside the apartment, permeating like the scent of a lit candle. Cozy, peaceful, Obi-Wan felt drawn to relax – this was a safe place.

A short entrance hall led them into a main living room. There was art plastered all across the austere white walls; messy, unpracticed scribbles in a riot of colors. There was a scattering of toys across the floor, not the boy’s, Obi-Wan assumed. He stepped fully into the apartment and found the course of the colorful chaos. At the dining table, a young girl was scribbling across a sheet of paper with a blue crayon. She looked up and beamed at the Kaminoan, "Hello Taun We!"

“Hello, Shila.” The Kaminoan nodded to the little girl before turning to a corner Obi-Wan couldn't quite see. “Hello, Anakin. Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” a woman’s voice replied.

Obi-Wan took another step forward and saw a young woman in a rocking chair, cradling a nursing baby to her breast. She was rather young, maybe twenty, Obi-Wan guessed, with blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. And very obviously the Force Sensitive who was creating the comfortable vortex.

"Hello," her eyes slid over Obi-Wan. "Who are you?" The Force curdled slightly with caution, and he caught a current of worry twined in with the warm comfort.

"This is Master Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi," Taun We introduced. Obi-Wan bowed respectfully to her.

"I apologize for intruding. I was hoping to speak with Jango Fett." He was rapidly filing away new information. Two more children, a wife or girlfriend, who happened to be incredibly Force Sensitive. How many other surprises were hiding on Kamino?

"He'll be out in a bit." She held his gaze, her intense blue eyes locking onto his. He could feel her brushing against his shields, probing for ill intent. Her attempts were clumsy, almost brutish in the way a self-taught Force user would be. Obi-Wan let her see enough that he meant no harm. He was simply here for information. She relaxed, but only a little.

"I'm Anakin Skywalker."

"Pleasure to meet you."

Her eyes moved past him to Boba and she instructed in Mando'a, "Go tell your father we have a visitor."

The boy disappeared down another hallway and returned a minute later to report, "He'll be out in a few minutes."

Anakin looked back to Obi-Wan with an apologetic smile, "You showed up just after he stepped into the shower."

Obi-Wan smiled back, neutral, polite. "I always did have poor timing."

The baby finished nursing, and fussed quietly until Anakin placed him gently over her shoulder. Obi-Wan politely averted his eyes while she adjusted her shirt to cover herself. He found his attention drawn by the little girl who was showing Taun We her drawings. The little girl was clearly related to Anakin, though her dark hair suggested she picked that up from her father. He kept his frown off his face as he did a little mental math. Anakin couldn't be much older than twenty, and her daughter had to be at least four years old… she would have been fifteen or sixteen when the girl was born. He stepped aside automatically to let Anakin pass on her way around the apartment. When Taun We asked to hold the baby, Anakin passed him over comfortably. She moved to the open kitchen and flicked the power switch on an electric kettle.

“Do Jedi take tea?” Anakin asked over her shoulder, watching him warily.

“Yes, thank you.” Obi-Wan nodded graciously to her, though he doubted he would be here long enough to have a cup.

She turned her back on him again and busied herself with pulling out cups and a pot.

Obi-Wan could still sense her caution, but it was the kind anyone reserved for strangers with unclear intentions. A door opened down the hallway, and Obi-Wan caught the faint scent of soap and steam as the man he wanted to see stepped out. His short hair was still damp, he was freshly shaven, and his clothes were clean. Taun We made introductions again.

"How do you find your army?" Fett’s words were neutral enough, as if eventually he expected a Jedi to arrive on his doorstep.

"They're very impressive. You must be proud."

Jango shrugged, taking the baby from Taun We when he began to fuss. "I'm just a simple man trying to make his way in the universe. As you can see, I've got plenty of mouths to feed." He easily placed the baby over his shoulder, and almost instantly, the fussing stopped.

Obi-Wan was acutely aware that every eye was on them, even the little girl had gone quiet to watch. "Ever make your way so far as Coruscant."

"Once or twice."

"Recently?"

"Perhaps."

The man was purposefully resisting his attempts at probing his mind, purposeful in a way that had to be trained. There were few cultures who knew how to train mental resistance to Force influence. Add to that, Anakin's casual use of Mando'a, Obi-Wan was fairly confident Jango Fett was the bounty hunter he had tracked from Coruscant.

“Then you must know Master Sifo-Dyas.”

“Can’t say I do.”

“Really? He didn’t recruit you?”

“I was recruited by a man called Tyrannus on a moon of Bogdon.”

“Curious…”

Jango’s replies were too easy to be lies, too natural to be rehearsed, and he sensed no guile from any of the others in the apartment. The children might not know, but his wife would know the truth of Jango’s recruitment, and she projected so clearly into the Force, he would have felt the lies through her. Obi-Wan threw her a glance, she had crossed her arms and was studying Obi-Wan with unconcealed suspicion. She didn’t trust him, but not because he was poking into Jango’s business.

“Do you like your army?” Jango asked, drawing his attention back.

“I look forward to seeing them in action.”

“They’ll do their job well. I guarantee it.”

Obi-Wan knew it was time to duck out gracefully. He would get no more information from the bounty hunter. He bowed to the room. "I apologize again for intruding. Thank you for taking the time to see me."

“Always a pleasure to meet a Jedi.” Jango smiled blandly and saw them to the door, still holding the baby.

When they were heading down the hallway, the jetii under the watchful eye of Taun We, Jango turned to the apartment. The kettle was boiling, but Anakin hadn't moved to turn it off.

"Was he here for me?"

"No, jetii don't work for Hutts."

Her shoulder's slumped in relief and she turned off the kettle. "What did he want?"

"Must've tracked me from this last job. Things went sour and I know he saw me." He passed the baby back. "We need to go. Pack your things."

XXX

Obi-Wan finished his call to the Jedi Council and was happy to get out of the driving rain. He had reported his identification of the bounty hunter, the surprise army meant for Republic use, and then mentioned the Force Sensitive woman. She was interesting, but she was not a concern right now. With a baby that young to care for, she couldn't have been involved in Jango's attempt on Padmé's life.

He walked back through the cloning complex alone this time, hoping to sneak up on Fett. He wasn't entirely unsurprised to find the apartment empty, a few items haphazardly tossed aside in a hurry to pack and leave. The daughter's drawings were left scattered across the table with the crayons, the kettle was still hot. He wasn't far behind them.

He caught up on the landing pad. Boba saw him first. Anakin hurried the children up into the ship while Jango, dressed again in his armor, attacked.

He was a skilled fighter, clearly trained in the Mandalorian tradition of counter-Jedi martial arts. Obi-Wan knew this would be a difficult fight, he was at a disadvantage with the rain driving straight into his face, but he wasn't expecting Jango to have back up.

He barely deflected the blaster bolt sent from the side and turned to see Anakin standing on the cargo ramp of the ship with a blaster trained on Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn't retaliate, he wasn't going to risk hurting the baby in a carrier on Anakin's chest. She knew exactly what she was doing. Jango was able to get the better of him, sending Obi-Wan tumbling off the edge of the rain-slick walkway, in attempts to dodge Anakin's shots and Jango's. Obi-Wan was able to catch himself, and climb back onto the landing pad, but he was too late. The ship was already taking off. He grabbed a magnetic tracker from his belt and managed to land it on the hull.

Obi-Wan turned back to return to his own ship. Wherever Fett went, Obi-Wan would follow. That Anakin was going to be a problem, he had a bad feeling about her.

#no jedi allowed au #shades of tatooine #replies #anonymous #jango fett #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #oh look. it's the beginning of the no jedi allowed part of the no jedi allowed au

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ithoughtitwasobvious · 2 years

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You Don’t Have To Do This Anymore

Rating: Teen/ PG-13

Pairing: Obi-wan Kenobi x Female Assassin! Reader

Warnings: Somewhat graphic depictions of violence, blood, discussions of assassinations and death, arguing, angst

Words: 2k

Summary: You are a well known assassin raised in the seedy, Coruscant underworld. You've made a name for yourself committing acts of violence, but it doesn't make you immune to becoming a victim to violence yourself. After a job goes horribly wrong, you stumble into your apartment in horrible condition. Thankfully your secret jedi lover, Obi-wan, is there to help you and make sure you're okay. However, his worry for you and your safety comes to a head and results in a discussion about the future of your career. Lots of reassurance and comfort ensues.

Tags: Obi-wan x Female Assassin! Reader, established relationship, some arguing, lots of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, reassurance, Obi-wan is so kind and soft and I want him to hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay.

Notes: This is kind of a different vibe for me and my fics, but I was in the mood to write something fluffy and sweet and really wanted to try my hand at writing Obi-wan. Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

You stumbled into your apartment in worse condition than you’d been in a long time. Most of your life had been spent in the underworld, rising through the ranks and building a reputation for yourself. It was all you knew as a street wise orphan left to your own devices in Coruscant’s lower levels. You’d had your fair share of hardship and struggle. It was a far cry from an ideal upbringing, but you made the best of it. You learned fast and made a name as a skilled and lethal assassin, eventually making enough money that you could work for yourself rather than some greedy crime lord. Even with your success, bad days and bad jobs were inevitable. Being an assassin was risky work whether you were the best at it or the worst. Committing such acts of violence for a living was a ticking time bomb that would always backfire in the end. You just had to hope that your skills would be enough to save you from any particularly disastrous consequences.

What happened to you earlier today had, thankfully, not been fatal, but it had been rough nonetheless. The job was supposed to be simple. A crime syndicate wanted to enact revenge on another crime syndicate through the assassination of the son of the leader of the opposing syndicate. You were to lie in wait until the son arrived home from conducting business, take the shot before he entered his home for the night, then return back to your employer to collect your payment. The whole thing start to finish was supposed to only last an hour or two. Instead, the leader had caught wind of the plot being devised against his son. Him and a group of his followers were waiting for you upon your arrival. You’d fought hard and made it out with your life, but not without sustaining a fresh stab wound to your abdomen as well as a collection of new cuts and bruises. It was the worst that you had been set up in quite some time, and you made sure that your employer was told so over the comm as you grit your teeth through the pain to pilot your ship home. In that moment, you could care less that you failed or that you wouldn’t be getting paid. All you could do was breathe and attempt to drag yourself back to the safety of your apartment.

You finally crashed through your front door once the sun had set and the lights of the surrounding city began to glitter and cast shadows through your large picture windows. Your breaths were coming out shallow and rapid as your hand fumbled blindly for the lock function on your door panel. You knew you had to get to your bathroom, but your knees were already beginning to buckle. Your hand wrapped around your middle only to find that the make-shift bandage you tied around your wound had already been soaked through. The corners of your field of vision began to blur, but you struggled against it. Only a few steps down the hall stood between you and the bacta that you knew was in your medkit.

Even through the thick fog of pain you froze at the sound of movement that was not your own. There were footsteps coming from somewhere in your apartment, quick and urgent as they began to close in on you. You reflexively reached for your pistol, lifting it from its holster to point forward at where you believed the intruder was coming from. Your blood ran cold at the possibility that your employer was unhappy with the outcome of the job and had decided to pursue a different route of payment. You pried your opposite hand from your wound to wrap around your wrist, willing your arm to stop shaking to provide you with a clear shot. You held your breath and swallowed your panic as the footsteps quickened down the hallway that led to your bedroom back out toward the main living area.

However before you could squeeze the trigger, you were met with an unexpected sight. Stood before you was not a crime syndicate assassin, but a familiar man dressed in brown robes with a flabbergasted expression on his handsome, bearded face. He spoke your name almost experimentally as he stared back at you, sounding uncharacteristically unsure for a seasoned Jedi master. Your pistol fell out of your hand to clatter to the tile floor. It was at that exact moment that your knees finally decided to give out. Without their support the rest of your body crumpled unceremoniously to the floor. You could briefly make out a more frantic call of your name before your head bounced off the tile and your awareness of your surroundings suddenly went black.

*******

You gasped as you abruptly sat upright in bed. Your hand instinctively shot to your side, only to be met by a bandage securing a bacta pad to your bare waist. Your eyes darted around the room as your mind rushed to attempt to piece together what time you had lost. Before your thoughts could spiral too far out of control, there was movement to your left. There was another frantic call of your name, just like earlier, as the speaker rushed to your bed side. You turned your head, your panic subsiding as your eyes once again met a familiar face.

“Obi-wan,” you sighed. His expression relaxed as he stared back at you. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, while the other moved upward so his fingers could delicately caress the side of your face.

“You always find a new way to keep me on my toes, my dear,” He teased you softly. The corner of your mouth turned upward into a half hearted smile as you shook your head.

“I assure you this time was not intentional.”

“Yes I gathered that by the state in which you entered your apartment.” You cast your gaze downward as a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

“I’m sorry you had to see that Obi.”

One of his knuckles moved beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

“It’s quite alright my dear,” He reassured you softly. “I am just glad I was here to help.”

You smiled sweetly up at him, your hand absentmindedly returning to rest above where your stab wound was already beginning to heal.

“Yes, thank you for that.” He smiled down at you.

“Anytime.” His hand rose to tuck a loose strand of your hair back behind your ear. “Now, would you mind filling me in on how exactly we wound up here?”

You hesitantly began to recount the circumstances surrounding your latest job, sparing no details. Obi-wan was perceptive to begin with. Adding in the aid of the force and his immense amount of practice in reading your facial expressions and body language made it nearly impossible for you to deceive him. Over time, you’d learned that being honest up front was the best policy. As you began to explain the events of the specific altercation that had led to your extensive injuries, Obi-wan stood from the bed and walked to the window. Though he was facing the twinkling lights of the upper-level Coruscant night life, you could tell that he was still listening. He would often pace or gaze out a window while being told troubling news. It was a nervous habit, much like the way that his hand often rose to stroke his beard when he was deep in thought.

When you finally completed your retelling, there was a brief moment of silence. Your gaze could have burned holes into the back of his robes as you waited on the edge of your seat for his reaction. After what felt like an eternity, he turned to face you once more. He let forth a heady sigh, his facial expression reading nothing but exasperation, and maybe some disappointment.

“Darling,” He spoke as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

You shook your head, knowing immediately what direction this conversation was taking.

“Yes I do, Obi,” you insisted firmly. “I’ve spent my whole life making a name for myself, building my reputation. I can’t just throw it all away.”

“Yes, but what good is your reputation if you’re dead?” He fired back, his tone becoming more frustrated.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Obi-wan hardly every fought, but when you did it almost always revolved around your career.

“You know I could say the same thing to you,” You petulantly replied. He spoke your name again, this time in a cautionary tone. However, you ignored him and pushed forward. If he wanted to have this discussion now, you were going to have it.

“It’s true,” you continued. “Your career puts you on the front lines of a galaxy wide war!You’re constantly running around getting shot at and I never tell you that you should just quit!”

“That’s different,” He cut in sternly. “I fight for the republic, to help others who would otherwise be powerless to help themselves. I don’t run around the galaxy killing for the highest bidder.”

“Don’t you?” You spat back icily. “Isn’t the republic just the highest bidder?”

“Darling,” Obi-wan groaned, rubbing his forehead as though he were developing a headache. “This isn’t about ideals, or the morality of your choices versus mine.” He stepped closer, taking a seat on the vacant side of the bed. “This is about your safety, and the fact that if I had not been here today to help, you may not be speaking to me right now.” You let out a shaky breath, your gaze dropping to where you were clasping and unclasping your hands nervously in your lap.

“I’m sorry Obi-wan,” you stammered out, your voice lacking all of its former bite. Obi-wan reached out to gently grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your face until you once again met his gaze. His expression held nothing but kindness and affection as he stared back at you.

“When I get hurt on the battlefield, I have republic medics and troopers and my fellow Jedi to help me,” he explained quietly. “I know from experience that you often do not have such help if one of your jobs goes wrong, and I fear the day that something horrific happens to you while I’m not here to intervene.”

You didn’t need to be a Jedi to feel the depth of emotion behind his words. Carefully, as to not aggravate your wound, you pulled the blankets away from your lap in order to climb into his. You wound your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to relax against his sturdy chest. Obi-wan wound his arms around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, taking a moment to breathe in the sweet scent of your shampoo that still lingered in your hair.

“I might consider slowing down, or doing something different,” you mumbled into his neck, breaking the silence. “But can we discuss it in the morning? I’m exhausted.” He hummed softly in agreement.

“Of course my dear.” He lifted you off his lap delicately, as though you were made of glass, and tucked you underneath the covers. You watched with a slow smile as he quickly rid himself of his outer layers until only his underwear remained. He placed his lightsaber on your side table along with his communicator before sliding beneath the blankets beside you. Warm, calloused hands gently grasped onto your waist, urging you to rest against his chest. You sighed as your bodies intertwined with one another. The familiar feeling of his arms wrapping around you and his legs tangling with yours released any remaining tension. You pressed your lips lovingly to his chest before nestling into the crook of his shoulder, drifting off to sleep feeling safer than you had in your whole life.

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brigittttoo · 3 years

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seven sentence sunday; finished codywan week!

as a celebration of finishing all (five) of my fics planned for @codywanweek I'm posting this excerpt from the domestic au :) now I can finally move on to some other fic ideas alsdkhfgh

The house looks shady and blissfully cool, all heavy dark wood and sliding panels, and when Cody approaches, eyes adjusting to the sudden dimness, he sees him there, cross-legged on a tightly woven mat. From this distance he is calm and harmless, a slowly greying man in clean plain robes, but Cody knows that closer up, Obi-Wan carries the subtle traces of his lethality: stubborn calluses on the inside of his palms, tensely muscled shoulders, a faint scar over his jaw from a long ago knife fight. A fading line on the back of his wrist.

Cody scuffs his boot on purpose at the edge of the veranda and watches Obi-Wan blink open one eye.

“You have to take your shoes off to come in here,” he says quietly, and Cody wants to roll his eyes, heave a sigh, anything to even begin making his annoyance known. But he also knows it’s fairly futile. He’s going to go in, he’s going to come to Obi-Wan like he’d asked Cody to, and he’s going to take his shoes off to do it.

#codywan #writing #every time I do one of these I'm faced with my own hellishly long sentences.. but will I stop? never #i hope everyone enjoys the fics I wrote for the event bc I'm super proud of them #i hope everyone is attacked by the emotions my fics will sneak into their soup #i also hope everyone reading this far in the tags has a beverage of their personal ideal temperature in their near future

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crystal-siren · 6 years

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Dark Horizon (Obi-Wan x Reader) Pt.1

A Bright Beginning ( Read me first)

Other Worlds (Read me second)

@stuck-as-me, as promised :)

The last of three stories requested by the amazing @dovies666. They have been a pleasure to write. I hope they have lived up to your expectations :)

I don’t spare my loyalty lightly. To me, it’s not a superficial gesture or an expectation but a hard-won privilege that must be bled and fought for. But earn my allegiance and you’ve got it for good - a devoted friend and guardian who would break bones to protect you. ~ Beau Taplin // Blood Brother

The Capital was the one place that Y/N had believed the war would not come to. Now, as she wove her starfighter through a mess of explosions and streams of fire from the gunships that hovered just above Coruscant’s atmosphere, she realised just how naive she had been. It had all been a matter of time.

“If we die, I’m going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault.” Y/N spoke into her earpiece and narrowly dodged the blast from a vulture droid that had its sights set on her.

“That’s cool, I wouldn’t mind having company while being a ghost,” Anakin’s amused tone filtered through her com.

Shaking her head, Y/N circled her fighter back and aimed her cannons at the droid that formally been hot on her tail. “Take that you mechanical piece of-”

“Language young lady,” Anakin’s voice cut her off.

“Are you seriously picking on my language right now?” Y/N replied, slight annoyance dripping into her tone. “And besides, I’m older than you!”

“Yeah, but only by a couple of years.”

Somehow managing to avoid crashing into the enemy gunships, Y/N managed to shoot back, “a couple? Make that ten.”

“Still a couple,” her friend’s smug voice made her grind her teeth.

“Just how is that?” Y/N pulled up short thus dodging an errant blast from a Republic cruiser.

“Well, you see-” Anakin started to reply when he was cut off.

“Can we stop bickering like children for just a minute and focus on the mission?” Obi-Wan interrupted. His no-nonsense tone filtering through both their earpieces.

Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Y/N soon found the two starfighters that were currently being piloted by her two best friends. “I’d love to.”

Within moments all three were aligned.

“Master, the General’s ship is straight ahead.” Anakin’s tone became serious.

“You do know that he isn’t your Master anymore yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help herself, a grin tugging at the edges of her mouth.

“Its called respect Y/N,” Anakin tried and failed to sound irritated.

“Whatever you say,” Y/N replied, her e/c eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Children, please.” Obi-Wan sighed. Those two never passed up an opportunity to poke at each other.

“It’s the one crawling with vulture droids,” Anakin continued with his earlier description.

Y/N’s keen eyes soon locked onto the ship and groaned. “Oh joy.”

“I see it. Oh this is going to be easy,” the false optimism in Obi-Wan’s voice made Y/N grin.

“Not a word I’d use to describe our current situation.” Y/N shrugged her shoulders against her safety harness and looked to her right. When her eyes locked with his, she nodded and smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Ahem,” Anakin faked coughed into their earpiece. “You may want to pay some attention. The fun is about to begin. Ten vulture droids straight ahead and coming down the left side.”

“Yippee,” Y/N tone dripped with sarcasm. Gripping the yoke of her fighter with one hand and the triggers with the other, she settled against her seat and took a deep breath.

“Add five Tri-fighters to the right,” Obi-Wan’s statement made her cringe.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Y/N murmured to herself. “I never should have let them talk me into this.”

“I heard that,” both Obi-Wan and Anakin spoke at the same time.

“Now that your hearing capabilities have been established, shall we continue?” She looked from side to side and received a thumbs-up from Anakin and nod from Obi-Wan.

“I’ll handle the Tri-fighters,” Y/N impulsively decided and surged forward before the other two could say anything.

“She’s going to get herself killed if she’s not careful,” Obi-Wan said to Anakin as they watched Y/N’s starfighter shoot forward.

“Well,” Anakin’s voice floated over the com. “We can’t let her have all the fun, can we?”

~ ~ ~

Grievous’s reptilian eyes had followed the three Jedi starfighters for quite sometime now. Skywalker, Kenobi and Y/L/N. Those three had quickly become the bane of the Separatist’s existence. Separate them and they were dangerous, put them together and they became lethal.

So it made perfect sense for the Senate to send their best to retrieve their precious Chancellor.

Then, one of the three broke away from the others and shot towards the oncoming Tri-fighers. Grievous watched that one closely. Skywalker no doubt. Who else would face such an enemy head-on ? His eyes soon caught onto the the remaining two, who soon followed. Kenobi and Y/L/N. Those two were never far from their mutual friend. Where one was, the other two would be close by.

The General watched in angered fascination as they decimated and outmaneuvered the droids that Grievous had dispatched. Turning away from the view port, he left the bridge, coughing as he went. Sooner or later they would make their way to his ship, and when they did, he would be ready.

~ ~ ~

Y/N considered herself lucky. Tri-fighters were notoriously difficult to destroy.

“The General’s Command ship is dead ahead,” Anakin’s voice crackled in her earpiece. “Head for the hanger.”

Y/N bit back a snide remark when Obi-Wan’s slightly panicked voice sounded in her ear. “Have you noticed that the shields are still up?!”

Upon closer inspection, Y/N noticed that he was right. “Anakin? You and me, lets go.” Signalling to her friend, she shot forward with canons blazing, Anakin following suit and Obi-Wan not far behind.

The shield generators were destroyed with the first few blasts and soon the hanger’s blast doors began to close with a terrifying speed. All three Jedi punched their thrusters to maximum.

Y/N held her breath as they narrowly missed being crushed by the doors. All three starfighters crash land in a show of sparks, their pilots wasting no time in leaping out of them.

“Next time the galaxy loses it’s mind,” Y/N called over the commotion of fending off the droids that had surrounded them. “Count me out.”

“Not going to happen,” Anakin replied, sauntering over to her after they had dispatched the last of the droids.

Before she could think of a reply, Obi-Wan walked over to them and turned his attention to Artoo who had followed Anakin. “Artoo locate the Chancellor.”

“Tap into the Ship’s computers,” Anakin further instructed and winked mischievously at Y/N before following the little astromech.

Sighing and shaking her head, Y/N made to follow the two when she felt a hand on her arm. Looking down, she smiled when she saw who the hand belonged to.

“Are you alright?” Those familiar sea-shaded eyes searched her e/c ones.

Nodding, she placed a gentle hand on his. “Yeah. I think so.”

The momentary silence was broken when four battle droids approached. Turning to face them, Y/N and Obi-Wan drew and ignited their lightsabers. Behind them, the sounds of Artoo hacking into the ship’s mainframe were accompanied by Anakin’s small encouragements.

It did not take long to take care of their attackers. In that moment Artoo managed to display a complete hologram of the entire ship.

“Where do you suppose they’re holding the Chancellor?” Y/N’s eyes fixated on the ship’s tall spire and she hoped she was wrong. Heights were never really her thing.

“His signal seems to be coming from there.” Obi-Wan pointed to very place that Y/N had been staring at. “The observation platform at the top of that spire.”

“Y/N?” Anakin’s worried tone broke through her thoughts, “you ok? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah,” she smiled at both of them and nodded, “I’m fine.”

Neither of them looked the least bit convinced but decided not to push the matter.

Then Anakin said something that Y/N wished she didn’t have to hear. “I sense Count Dooku.”

Honestly, she thought to herself, could the day get any worse ?

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes slightly, “I sense a trap.”

This only made Anakin smile, “next move?”

Obi-Wan answered with a grin of his own, “spring the trap.”

Those two were incorrigible, Y/N thought to herself as she followed them to the nearest elevator.

~ ~ ~

Their arrival had not gone entirely unnoticed. General Grievous stalked onto the ship’s bridge and addressed the Neimoidian that sat at the helm. “What’s the situation Captain?”

“Three Jedi have landed in the main hanger bay,” he replied. “We’re tracking them.”

Grievous turned to one of the screens and coughed in place of a laugh. “Just as Count Dooku predicted.” In reality Dooku only expected two, but one addition should prove little trouble.

~ ~ ~

Even the elevator ride proved to be eventful. The moment the three of them has set foot in one, they were once again faced with more than ten battle droids.

They made quick work of them, but that was not the end of it. The elevator screeched to a sudden stop, causing all three to look at each other in confusion.

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, “did you press the stop button?”

Anakin, in turn shook his head, “no, did you?” To which Obi-Wan also shook his head.

“Y/N did you?”

“Really Anakin, why would I do that?” Y/N glared at him with her hands on her hips.

“Well, there’s more than one way out of here,” Anakin said while looking up. Before either Y/N or Obi-Wan could react, he ignited his weapon.

“We don’t want to get out,” Obi-Wan reminded his friend, “we want to get moving.” Taking out his comlink, he tried to get through to Anakin’s faithful little astromech, “Artoo..Artoo? Do you copy? Activate elevator,” he stopped talking as he examined the instrument panel in front of him, “31174.”

Y/N only rolled her eyes when Anakin disregarded those words and sliced a hole in the elevator ceiling and jumped out.

“Show off,” she called up through the hole. “What if we start moving ?”

“Not going to happen,” Anakin called back, sounding much too confident.

“Such faith you have in your little friend,” Y/N shot back, “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled once I tell him.”

“Don’t you dare-” Anakin’s words were cut off when the elevator began moving rapidly downwards.

“Stop, stop! Artoo,” Obi-Wan spoke, much too calmly, into the comlink. “We need to be going up not down.”

Anakin, for his part, was hanging by his fingertips off the narrow edge of the elevator shaft. Y/N’s words kept running loops in his mind, she wouldn’t let him live this one down.

His attention was drawn to the elevator door just above him as it was pried open. Two battle droids aimed their blasters at him.

Y/N’s panic was quite literally brought to a halt as the elevator jolted to a rough stop.

Standing up, she smoothed her hair and robes and saw Obi-Wan do the same as he spoke into the comlink. “Now that’s better,” as the elevator began to move up again.

Looking down, Anakin saw the very same elevator moving towards him with terrifying speed.

Landing smoothly atop the racing elevator, Anakin dropped down, startling both it’s occupants. Their lightsabers at the ready.

“Oh it’s you,” Obi-Wan said with a degree of relief.

Y/N, meanwhile shot her friend a smug smile. “Not going to happen huh?”

Not gracing her with an answer, Anakin pointedly ignored her and turned to Obi-Wan. “What was that about?”

“Well, Artoo has been..” Obi-Wan started before Anakin cut him off.

“No loose wire jokes,” Anakin said rather defensively, “he’s doing the best he can.”

“Did I say anything?” Obi-Wan protested, making Y/N smile.

“He’s trying!” Anakin was becoming more defensive of his little droid.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Their argument is brought to an end when the elevator doors opened to reveal the viewing platform. Y/N tried not to think of high up they were.

Three pairs of eyes immediately locked onto the Chancellor, who sat not too far from where they stood.

Approaching him, they bowed respectfully.

While Y/N and Obi-Wan simply addressed him, Anakin enquired after his well being.

The answer the Chancellor gave made Y/N curl her lip in disgust. “Count Dooku.”

How she loathed that name and the man it was attached to. Not bothering to hide her feelings concerning the man, she turned to face him. Behind her, Anakin and Obi-Wan strategised, but she only had eyes for the man in front of her.

The Count was equally surprised to see her. “Young Y/N. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Her e/c eyes glittered with the deepest loathing. Her hand gripped the handle of her lightsaber in an effort to control her emotions. “I cannot say I feel the same way.”

“Get help,” the Chancellor spoke from behind her, “you’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

“Oh, I know,” Y/N murmured before shrugging off her robe and igniting her weapon.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

“Y/N. Stop.”

Her friends’s protests did nothing to quell the emotions that now ran rampant in her system. No one would take this opportunity away from her.

The two Jedi watched in horrified fascination as Y/N launched into a series of attacks that took the Count by surprise. Her attacks were fluid but held a startling amount of aggression.

This loss of emotional control combined with aggression, led Y/N to become unaware of her surroundings.

Dooku used this to his advantage.

Obi-Wan watched her closely, never had he seen her lose control like that in a fight before. Usually an elegant fighter, Y/N hardly ever relied on strength and aggression.

It all happened so fast. Suddenly Y/N could no longer feel solid ground beneath her feet. Managing to prevent her head from hitting the ground, Y/N hit the hard ground with a loud thud. Her sword arm was not so lucky. Despite being horribly winded, she tried to get up and immediately hissed at the pain that shot through her right wrist.

Convinced that she wouldn’t be causing him anymore trouble, Dooku made his way to the two remaining Jedi.

Just as Y/N had done moments before, Anakin and Obi-Wan shrugged off their robes and stood their ground. The latter had to restrain himself from looking in her direction and making sure she was alright.

“Gentleman, your swords please,” Dooku spoke as he approached them. “We don’t want to make a mess of things in front of the Chancellor.” If he thought to get a rise out of them, he was wrong.

Anakin and Obi-Wan, with weapons ignited, moved towards him. “You won’t get away this time, Dooku.” Obi-Wan said to him.

The fight that ensued was beautiful. At least, that’s how it appeared to Y/N. Her eyes followed her friends as they fought and worked together against their enemy.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Dooku remarked, making Y/N want to tear that irritating smirk from his face.

“My powers have doubled since the last time we met Count,” Anakin spoke confidently and Y/N felt her heart swell with pride.

“Good,” Dooku sounded somewhat please, “twice the pride, double the fall.” His smug tone elicited a snarl from Y/N.

Her hard e/c eyes followed the group as the fight continued. It soon became apparent that Anakin was the stronger fighter. Both Dooku and Obi-Wan were tiring and Y/N began to worry, she knew all too well what happened if one tired during a fight.

A horrified gasp left her lips as she watched Dooku lift Obi-Wan into the air and then throw him off to the side while managing to land a hard kick on Anakin. Ignoring the pain in her arm, she pushed herself off the floor and limped her way to where he lay unconscious.

Shaking her head in denial, she felt for a pulse and felt relief course through her when she found one.

Anakin, meanwhile continued to rain blow after blow down on the Count. Their lightsabers lock, blue becomes entangled with red.

“I sense great fear in you Skywalker.” Dooku taunted him, “you have hate. You have anger. But you don’t use them.”

Pushing away from him, Anakin struck again with new ferocity. He struggled to keep a tight reign on his emotions. But as the Count continued to strike, his anger grew and therefore, his strength.

Y/N felt her eyes widen as she watched the fight. Her jaw almost dropped as Anakin severed the Count’s hands in one swift move. Her eyes followed his lightsaber as Anakin caught it and activated it, along with his own. She held her breath as he held both weapons at the Count’s neck.

“Good, Anakin, good. I knew you could do it.” The Chancellor’s words surprised all those listening. “Kill him. Kill him now.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Neither, it seemed, could Anakin. “I shouldn’t...” he sounded so unsure.”

“Do it,” in that moment, Y/N swore he sounded like someone else.

Before she could even blink, Anakin severed Dooku’s head and she watched in a stunned silence as her friend freed the Chancellor.

Accepting Anakin’s help, she stood up.

Suddenly the ship tilted to one side, helping Anakin to make a decision. Lifting a still unconscious Obi-Wan onto his shoulders, Anakin motioned for Y/N and the Chancellor to follow him.

When they arrived at the elevators however, they found them not to be working. As the ship continued to tip to one side, Anakin forced open a set of elevator doors and entered the empty elevator shaft.

Y/N didn’t think twice. Clutching her injured limb to her chest, she followed her friend down the shaft as the ship continued to lose its balance.

Unbeknownst to the trio, the ship’s crew worked quickly in order to right the ship once more. They were successful.

Oh no, Y/N thought to herself as she felt the ship right itself. Of all the places she could have been at that moment, stuck in an elevator shaft with a broken arm was not one of them.

Of course, Obi-Wan had to choose that moment to wake up. Quickly taking in his surroundings, he scrambled to get a better hold on Anakin, who was hanging tight to a small cable.

“Um, guys,” Y/N called from not far above. “We kinda need to move, now.” Her words were emphasised by the sound of an elevator rushing down towards them.

Letting go of their respective handholds, the three Jedi and the Chancellor tumbled down the elevator shaft before unraveling the grappling hooks from their utility belts and using them to swing through an open door just as the elevator rushed past.

“I’m never doing anything like that ever again,” Y/N muttered to herself as Anakin and Obi-Wan glanced at her. “And you two,” she pointed at them with her good hand, “can’t convince me to.”

~ ~ ~

On the bridge, the location of the Jedi and the freed Chancellor had been discovered. A co-pilot spoke up, addressing the General. “General, we found the Jedi. They’re in Hallway 328.”

Excellent, Grievous thought to himself. “Activate Ray shields.”

~ ~ ~

The four skidded to a halt as ray shields appeared around them. Y/N groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Wait a minute! How did this happen? We’re smarter than this!” Obi-Wan spoke up, clearly confused.

“Apparently not,” Anakin replied and Y/N found herself agreeing with him.

“I say..patience.” Anakin’s suggestion was met with looks of disbelief from both Y/N and Obi-Wan.

“Patience?” They both asked at once, not believing what he had just said.

“Yes.” Anakin seemed rather sure of himself. “Artoo will be along in a few moments and he’ll release the ray shields.”

“The way you rely on that droid..”Y/N shook her head and held her hands up defensively when Anakin glared at her.

Sure enough, seconds later, Artoo came screeching into the hall. Anakin seemed rather pleased with himself. “See? No problem.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth then more droids appeared.

“Seriously?” Y/N asked no one in particular the same time Obi-Wan turned to Anakin.

“Do you have a plan B?”

Anakin was silent as the droids surrounded them and took them, hands bound, to General Grievous.

To be continued...

Part 2

#star wars #prequels #revenge of the sith #sw rots #reader insert #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #padme amidala #obi wan x reader #the clone wars #darthsidious #darth vader #beau taplin

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deepseacritter · 6 years

Text

Every Dog Has His Day

For those who want to read here…

Characters: CC-3636 | Wolffe, CT-7567 | Rex, CC-2224 | Cody, Sinker

Summary: Wolffe gets his revenge.

Sinker knew his commander, and could tell when Wolffe was having an off day. The clone walked a certain way when he was agitated, with his feet hitting the ground harder than usual, hands clenched into fists that were about ready to take a swing at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Cody joked that the Wolfpack could probably smell the change in their commander’s mood as well. Wolffe had not appreciated that comment, but General Koon thought there might actually be some truth there. The Force was in all things, and given the strong bonds of the Pack, perhaps they truly were sensing what Wolffe was feeling.

Things were not going well so far. The mess hall ran out of caf at breakfast and lunch. Some of the troopers from the 501st had occupied the firing range longer than expected, and the new shinies were late arriving from Kamino, which meant the rest of the day’s schedule was shot. To top it all off, someone had also “borrowed” Wolffe’s datapad and returned it full of questionable holovids…Sinker suspected it was Cody. The commanders were currently inside the barracks, having a rather loud discussion about it.

The door to the barracks flew open and Wolffe stormed out muttering a stream of curses. Sinker quickly shot to his right and flattened himself against the wall to get out of the way. The commander would never take his anger out on any member of the Pack, but it was still a good idea to give the man some space when he was upset. Wolffe had clearly lost the argument (not that there was any real proof Cody did anything), and Sinker could just feel the anger emanating from Wolffe as he passed and headed towards the officer’s lounge. Yes, today was definitely an off day.

———-

Rex was catching up on some field reports in the officer’s lounge when Wolffe made a rather loud entrance. The commander looked agitated, and cursed as he smashed his helmet on the table and threw himself into one of the lounge chairs. Rex guessed he had recently crossed paths with Cody, and not wishing to listen to another tirade, simply greeted his brother by name and went back to his reports.

Wolffe rocked his chair back and stared at the ceiling for a good hour before speaking. “Hey, Rex. Do you remember those training rocket launchers we used back on Kamino?”

Odd question, but of course he remembered them. During a weapons session one of his batch mates was messing around and accidentally fired the rocket launcher across the room. The non-lethal blank hit Rex square in the gut and sent him flying. He was what…maybe four or five at the time? The hit to his small body broke three ribs, and he had massive bruising for months.

“Yeah, I remember those. Reminiscing on our youthful training days?”

“I wonder if I’d be able to get my hands on one. Maybe have one shipped in with the next batch of shinies.”

Rex put his data pad down and looked over at Wolffe, who was still apparently contemplating the ceiling. “Vod, we have plenty of rocket launchers on base right now. What do you want a training launcher for?”

Wolffe leaned further back in the chair and rested his hands behind his head. “Might be fun.”

Might be fun? That was doubtful. Nothing about Wolffe screamed “fun.” Cody, on the other hand…ah, that was it.

“Listen, Wolffe…as temping as it may be to fire a rocket at Cody, that’s a sure way to see yourself decommissioned.”

Wolffe turned a scarred face to Rex, his cybernetic eye glowing. “I’m not an idiot, Rex. I don’t like Cody, but I don’t hate him enough to do that. Not yet anyway.”

“So then why the training launcher?”

“I just want one.” The commander abruptly straightened his chair and stood. “Forget about it. Wishful thinking.” He was out the door before Rex could respond.

———-

Sinker sat at a far console in the command center, watching the daily GAR newsfeed. On days like this, when nothing was happening on base and they weren’t deploying, the command center was the best place to be if you wanted a nice, quiet space. Perhaps he would take a quick nap…

The clone jumped when his comm panel suddenly sounded, disrupting the tranquility of the dark room.

“Sinker, do you have an updated ETA for those shinies?” Wolff’s voice echoed through the mostly empty room.

Update…he had seen a notice somewhere recently. Quickly scrolling through fleet notifications, he found it.

“Yes, sir. They’re now scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning.”

“They haven’t left Kamino yet. Good.”

Sinker wasn’t sure how to respond. How was that good? It wasn’t good a couple hours ago, when you were ranting about the schedule. Silence was the better option.

“Meet me in the armory in five. I have some questions about the requisition form you filled out.”

Requisition form? He hadn’t filed any reqs recently, and Wolffe never made errors with paperwork, so it had to be something else…something that couldn’t be spoken about in the open command center.

“On my way, sir.” Sinker closed the newsfeed he had been watching and headed out the door, wondering what Wolffe had in store.

———

Wolffe had repeated his request, and Sinker still couldn’t believe it.

“A training rocket launcher? I just…Wolffe…that’s an unusual request.”

“Can you make it happen? Our best chance is to get one with this next batch of shinies coming in tomorrow.”

Sinker eyed the commander, and considered asking him if it was a joke…again. No, clearly Wolffe wasn’t joking at all. He wanted a kriffing training launcher, and wouldn’t say exactly why.

“I know one of the training sergeants who might be able to pull some strings. I need a good reason to give him though. Something plausible.”

Wolffe closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in thought. Plausible. After several moments he had an idea…

“Tell him I want it for some training exercises. I want to test these new clones myself, observe how they react to a more realistic battlefield conditions. No better way than to actually shoot at them, right?”

Shooting at shinies. If it had been any other commander, it would have never worked…but Wolffe? It would be an easy sell. The story fit with what other clones outside the 104th thought he would be like.

“I can work with that. No guarantees, though.”

“Do what you have to do, Sinker. Just get me that launcher.��

Sinker couldn’t help but shake his head as he left the armory. What the hell was Wolffe up to?

———-

The transport from Kamino arrived just after morning muster. Sinker had the clones fall in, and nodded to Wolffe. The commander gave a cursory inspection and speech to the shinies, sent them off to the mess hall, then headed towards central command. It was going to be a good day.

At the officers’ meeting, General Kenobi announced the dates for battalion inspections, and the 104th had a week to prepare. That was plenty of time to really polish up their armor and acclimate the new clones to the rest of the Wolfpack. The 212th would be the first in line for inspection in two days. General Kenobi had mentioned at least four times how important image was, so the pressure was on Cody to have all his men looking their best. Seeing Cody sweat a little at the news made Wolffe happy, and kriffing hells if his good mood didn’t last for the next two days.

———-

From his vantage point, Wolffe could see Cody clearly. The 212th commander was speaking with his top platoon, and giving their armor one final check. Hells they all looked so clean, with the white plastoid shining like new. All the orange paint had been touched up as well. It was almost a shame…almost.

Five minutes to inspection. Wolffe shouldered the training rocket launcher and aimed at Cody. Four minutes. He exhaled slowly, and calmly pulled the trigger. The round hit Cody center mass, exploding everywhere. He never saw it coming. As the cloud started to settle, Wolffe quickly made his escape, barely suppressing his laughter.

———-

The clones in the 212th had been knocked flat in a flash of color. Cody was still on his back, staring at the sky as several of the clones that had been standing near him were stumbling to their feet. They were all trying to process what had just happened.

As he sat up, Cody took several seconds to realize that the colors he was seeing weren’t from the blast, but from the hideous paint that was now covering himself and a good portion of his men. It was like someone had taken all the colors from a drunk night at 79’s, added some glitter, and then threw it up all over the 212th. This is not happening. Not now.

“I swear to kriffing hells, I’m going to get the piece of rankweed who did this…”

Cody scrambled to his feet, still not totally comprehending the situation, as the rest of the 212th snapped to attention. It was too late to do anything; the generals had arrived for inspection.

———-

Obi-wan looked as shocked as Cody felt, and was quite lost for words. Skywalker surveyed the slightly disoriented clones, shaking his head with a grin.

“Well, I must say Master, I’m not a fan of your battalion’s new colors.”

“Anakin…”

“I mean, it does make a statement. Just not sure if you needed so much glitter.”

Plo chuckled as he booted the remnants of the paint round that hit Cody. “Oh, I’m not sure about that. I think the glitter is a fine addition to the armor. It catches the sunlight nicely. Perhaps it’s the color combination that’s a bit distracting.”

“Ah, yes. The green, blue, gold, red, and purple do seem to clash a bit with the original orange paint.”

Obi-wan was getting a headache. “Unbelievable.” He marched up to the clone at front and center.

“Commander Cody, perhaps you would care to explain yourself.”

———-

Wolffe had hidden the training launcher and returned to watch as Kenobi thoroughly chewed out Cody. Cody, who was covered in every single blasted color the supply room had, plus some extras Wolffe was able to scrounge up. Cody, who would now be stuck scrubbing his armor clear for hours. Cody, who would likely be given extra duty to make up for this inspection fiasco. Cody, who completely and utterly deserved what he got.

It was glorious.

#wolffe #cody #clone shenanigans #my wolffe gets revenge #cody is a little shit #and deserves it

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sl-walker · 6 years

Text

The Sith Infiltrator was in hyperspace when Darth Maul engaged the autopilot to give himself time to think. Reflection was so foreign to him that the impulse to look inward left him momentarily astonished—though not enough to keep him seated at the ship’s controls. Shrugging out of the acceleration chair’s harness, he rose and paced from the control console to the aft arc of passenger seats; then from the entrance of the lift to the power-cell array access panels. Though Tatooine was light-years behind him, he couldn’t shake the planet from his thoughts, and despite the Scimitar’s speed and cloaking ability, it was as if the sleek ship, too, were incapable of outracing the past.

If I had it to do over again...

In his thoughts he was dropped into the speeder bike’s open cockpit, racing across Tatooine’s desolate landscape; in the next moment, executing an impromptu though acrobatic leap that carried him to the yellow ground, his lightsaber in hand, its energy blade meeting that of the Jedi Master whose name he had since learned was Qui-Gon Jinn.

Probe droids Maul had dispatched upon landing on Tatooine had located the bearded human Jedi in the stands of the Podrace stadium and later in the settlement known as Mos Espa. One of the trio of Dark Eyes had also discovered the Queen of Naboo’s starship where it had put down in the wastes of the Xelric Draw. Intent on availing himself of every advantage, Maul had waited for Qui-Gon to set out on foot for the gleaming ship before launching his surprise attack. Qui-Gon and a human slave boy had hurried across the oven-like wastes while Maul watched from the padded comfort of the speeder’s seat. Maul’s eyes were better adapted than human eyes to the glare of Tatooine’s twin suns, his lithe body better suited than the Jedi heavyweight’s to fighting in soft sand …

And yet nothing had gone as planned.

Somehow Qui-Gon heard the sibilant whine of the speeder’s repulsorlift and had whirled aside at the last instant. With some 250 meters separating Qui-Gon and the slave boy from Queen Amidala’s vessel, Maul would have had time to whip the speeder through a turn and make a second pass. Instead, in his eagerness to face off at last with a celebrated Jedi lightsaber Master, he had leapt into action …

Qui-Gon’s shrewd readiness had almost taken Maul off his guard. But the first ferocious clash of their blades had told him that the Jedi was equally surprised. And why shouldn’t he be—about being attacked not only by a Dathomiri Zabrak who had appeared out of nowhere, but also by one trained in the dark arts and wielding a crimson-bladed lightsaber? Regardless, Qui-Gon had quieted his mind and brought his imposing might to bear against Maul’s agility. He had matched Maul’s furious strokes with a disciplined intensity all his own. In the midst of their no-quarter contest the Jedi had even managed to order the slave boy to flee for the safety of the waiting ship, where Maul had nearly forgotten all about him.

The Force favors this Jedi! Maul recalled thinking.

After all the droids, assassins, gangsters, and soldiers he had vanquished, finally a worthy opponent. Not since he had fought and been defeated by his own Master, Darth Sidious, had Maul been so committed to a challenge.

Then, just when Qui-Gon’s stamina was beginning to flag and the fight was tipping in Maul’s favor, the incomprehensible had occurred: Qui-Gon had fled. Instead of standing fast and fighting to the finish, he had bounded onto the lowered boarding ramp of the Royal Starship as it was lifting off, leaving Maul—sandblasted as much by disenchantment as raw anger—to watch the craft disappear into Tatooine’s blue sky.

Many a being had run from Maul, but never a worthy one.

When, on orders from his Master, he had single-handedly butchered the trainers and trainees at the Orsis combat academy five years earlier, not a being had fled. Not the Mandalorian Meltch nor his pair of lethal Rodians; not Trezza or his well-trained Nautolan ward, Kilindi. All had stood their ground and died with honor. Spinelessness was something that had never entered Maul’s imaginings. What, then, was he now supposed to think of the Jedi, whom he had been raised to hate since infancy?

On Coruscant, before leaving for Tatooine, Maul had found it impossible to contain his enthusiasm. At last we reveal ourselves, Master, he had said to Sidious. And in the end that long-awaited moment of revelation had led to nothing more than disappointment. Watching the departing starship, Maul had wondered: Could he succeed in tracking the Jedi and the Queen a second time? How would his failure impact the overall mission?

At the time he had tried to make excuses for himself, blaming his inability to overpower Qui-Gon on the leg wound he had sustained during his brief capture by Togorian pirates. Or the slave boy might have been to blame—a seeming nexus of Force energy, the boy had somehow abetted Qui-Gon in the fight. But Maul had known better than to make excuses to his Master, or even mention the run-in with the Togorians.

But if he had it to do over again, he wouldn’t make it a challenge.

Even if that meant depriving himself of the thrill of combat and the pleasure of seeing the pained surprise in Qui-Gon’s eyes when Maul’s blade pierced him. He would simply race in at top speed with his lightsaber already ignited and decapitate Qui-Gon Jinn where he stood. That way he might also have been able to pilot the speeder through the ship’s open hatch, kill Qui-Gon’s Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and capture the Queen …

How his Master would have praised him then! Instead Maul had been forced to weather Sidious’s obvious disenchantment in abject humiliation. Darth Sidious had dismissed the setback, almost as if attributing Maul’s failure to—what? Surely not fate, since his Master was as much as overseeing that. That left only Maul’s lack of ability.

His weakness.

Currently the two Jedi, the Queen, and her entourage of handmaidens and protectors were on Coruscant, and Maul had been ordered to Naboo to assist the loathsome Neimoidians in rooting out possible pockets of resistance while Sidious modified the plan.

Even Sidious despised having to deal with the Neimoidians. So the assignment to advise them felt like a punishment, as had happened following Maul’s massacre of the leaders of the Black Sun crime syndicate. Then Maul had been banished from Coruscant after confessing to Sidious that he had identified himself as a Sith Lord to one of the crime bosses before killing him.

In previous missions undertaken for his Master, Maul had felt allied to the dark side, but something had changed since Tatooine. Was he now in some sense engaging the Force itself, through its proxies, the Jedi? Should he have been more circumspect and lured the Jedi to him instead of initiating the attack?

Would his Master even allow him a second chance?

He wouldn’t have believed that his hatred for the Jedi could deepen, but it had—for making him appear ineffectual in the eyes of Darth Sidious and for putting him in such an untenable fix …

Enough thinking, Maul commanded himself.

The solution was that he couldn’t allow himself to fail again.

Convinced that he had put the past to rest, Maul came to a halt in the Infiltrator’s cabin. However, as if his legs had a will of their own, he was suddenly back in motion, pacing from the control console to the acceleration chairs.

If I had it to do over again...

-End Game, James Luceno

#maul #end game #I MEAN GEEZ #maybe because i'm thirty-seven #but holy shit this doesn't read as #'fully grown mature adult with mature risk-assessment skills'#it's shockingly relatable #i remember being that age #i remember how my own mind worked then #i remember thinking in patterns like that #and i am dead sure OTHER PEOPLE either recognize them #or have lived them #(or aren't far off from living them)#and i guess i just love it #(though yeah it definitely adds to the tragic factor of his existence too)

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brigittttoo · 3 years

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Codywan Week!! 7. Domestic

happy last day of @codywanweek ! I'd describe this last one as a non-star-wars space AU, which was very loosely inspired by strangely both cowboy bebop and studio ghibli's 1991 film only yesterday, and no, I can't elaborate. It's weird and only tangentially domestic and it's also SPICY, rated E for the usual carnal reasons ;) it's also! cross-posted along with all my other codywan week 2021 fics on ao3!

Cody receives the message one day on his hand-comm and thinks, with a shaky exhale, that only these three words could move him with such efficiency away from a paying job.

Come to me, the message says, before the screen blinks off again. Cody sets a string of coordinates into his ship’s navigation and arrives half a cycle later at a long-haul trucking outpost, pulling his ship in to dock at one of the bays.

It’s not a perfect system; the safety deposit locker is lacking in any more security than a standard circle lock, the GPS transceiver inside only requires a passcode and a thumbprint. Tucked into the shelter of the thin metal locker door, Cody memorises the new list of coordinates and then flips the transceiver’s signal, and then he’s off again. It’s easy enough to avoid eye contact with anyone with his helmet on the whole time.

The coordinates set off alerts from his ship’s system about non-corresponding regions of space, but when Cody reaches them after another half-cycle he sees that it’s really just a planet and its single moon sitting unluckily on the remote and informal border of two disputing gangs. When he breaks atmo in his outrigger, gliding along just underneath a fluffy layer of clouds, he sees worked fields, small towns, specks of people dotted throughout either. It’s idyllic, in a very bucolic way. It’s the last place he’d ever guess Obi-Wan would be.

The last numbers of the coordinates lead Cody to a house on the side of a small hill, surrounded by yellow bursts of safflowers. He has no choice but to land his outrigger on the road down at the base of the hill, the nearest slice of flat land, and after a brief moment of consideration, tugs his helmet off.

The heat here is pretty oppressive, direct sunlight hugging this side of the hill with little regard for the people perched between flower rows, their thick-gloved hands steadily plucking the blooms. The light is definitely getting lower, though, and Cody reckons he got here just on this side of the night cycle, so it’s bound to cool off pretty quick. The mornings here must be nice too, he thinks, before he can catch himself.

Cody scuffs his boot on purpose at the edge of the veranda and watches Obi-Wan blink open one eye.

As soon as he does, leaving his helmet there too, he’s being pulled by the arm into another room, paper panel wall sliding shut behind him. Obi-Wan tugs on the outer buckles of Cody’s jacket with practiced motions, sliding the zipper down to expose his shirt and instantly reaching underneath the hem to run his fingers over Cody’s belly, scratching through the hair there. Cody bites down on a noise trying to crawl out of his throat, telling himself to take it easy, already, but Obi-Wan is moving on, sliding his jacket off his shoulders and letting it clatter to the floor.

There’s a futon laid out in here, but Cody knows from experience that they may not even get to it before this is done—another glance around the room, though, and more of his suspicions are confirmed. The empty pack propped in a corner and the sandals neatly placed on the slice of veranda visible through a slightly open panel are the most damning, and he almost gets his mouth open to say something, anything, except Obi-Wan rasps his beard over Cody’s neck and presses a heated kiss to the underside of his jaw, and all words fly out of reach.

Cody gets enough of himself together to start stripping Obi-Wan in between short gasping pants that always make him feel embarrassed but which only spur Obi-Wan on. For fear of tearing through the panel, he pushes them away, towards one of the wide, load-bearing pillars beside the open sliding door, shucking two of Obi-Wan’s outer robes along the way. It earns him a breathy laugh, and he decides to cut it short with a roll of his hips, the friction fantastic but the fabric in between them decidedly not.

That’s another thing, Cody supposes distantly, while his fingers tangle with Obi-Wan’s to remove both their pants. It’s not like their meet-ups consist solely of hands and mouths, but it’s more likely that Cody has to reach past the waistband of whatever Obi-Wan’s wearing, or get himself out of his trousers just enough to slide into Obi-Wan, everything hard and fast and barely undone. But this—this is rare, taking off all of their clothes like this. It feels all at once too vulnerable in this unsecured space, with its insubstantial walls and the early evening breeze coming down off the top of the hill and in through the gap in the sliding door.

“You’re thinking too much,” Obi-Wan says, and solves the problem by cupping his palm firmly over Cody’s dick where it’s still trapped in his underwear and squeezing. Cody chokes out that noise finally, clutching at Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan’s hands have always been good, efficient and effective, despite what some of the scars on them might say.

The underwear comes off very soon after, the last of Obi-Wan’s clothing following suit, and Cody pins Obi-Wan to the pillar with his whole body, firmly enough to feel like he could sink into him entirely, neither enveloped nor enveloping, just occupying the same, equal space. Sometimes, he—a quiet moan breaks Cody’s focus so much that he stops rolling their hips together and just ends up dragging his mouth along the space between Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder.

Sometimes, he feels this way: they are two orbiting halves of a binary star system, two former partners, each once able to make the other really smile, now perpetually removed. Other times, it’s like this: they are crashing together in a fatal mess, two contract hunters, each able to trust the other to take them safely and devastatingly apart, now a collision of extreme forces. It’s impossible, sometimes, when they find themselves oscillating uncontrollably between these two states. Cody feels like he’s going to simultaneously disperse into huge, widely strewn pieces, and condense himself roughly and abruptly to the size of an atom.

Obi-Wan is the one to hold his palm in front of Cody’s mouth until he licks wetly along it, before finally grasping both of them in hand. They share a groan – a fleeting thought for whoever might be in the vicinity of the open doorway – and Cody pushes forward into it, reaches with whatever coordination he has left for Obi-Wan’s thigh so he can hook it up around his own hip. Obi-Wan’s grip is tight but his strokes are slow, a calculated steadiness to his movement that Cody knows seeps over from their professional lives.

After a moment that stretches stickily into more, Obi-Wan’s thumb glides over the slit of Cody’s cock, and Cody hums out a low sound. Obi-Wan nips at the side of Cody’s neck, then, and says, “God, you’re good,” and Cody finally edges his fingers holding the leg up further back around to the crease of Obi-Wan’s ass.

He opens his mouth to say something back, surely some sort of intelligently composed response like ‘I know,’ or ‘Hold on and I can be even better,’ except Obi-Wan chooses that moment to shift his free hand from the back of Cody’s neck, down along his spine to mirror Cody’s own hand, pressing dry and light against Cody’s rim. Obi-Wan swallows the gasp Cody makes with another kiss, another tight pull on their cocks, another stroke of his thumb. Cody loses track of his own hands, and thinks absently that they’ve never felt closer together than they do in this instant, sweat gathering under his arms and low across their stomachs, the heat between them enough to overtake the cool air of the house.

It's suddenly too much, the combined sensation of their skin hot and soft against each other, the fingers circling in gentle antithesis behind him, his own hand tensely braced above Obi-Wan’s shoulder against the smooth wood of the pillar, and he has to – has to hold off, execute a tactical retreat, get some space, except—

He shakes through his orgasm like it’s the only thing left to do in this world, hand clenching—probably painfully—into the meat of Obi-Wan’s ass, a final sound scraped out of his throat and laid weakly on Obi-Wan’s collarbone. A faint hush falls over them, the same sound as the breeze in the tall grass at the lip of the veranda. Cody pants wetly between their chests, his legs gone wavering and shivery.

Obi-Wan is still achingly hard in Cody’s field of view and it’s the only thing he can bring himself to focus on, so despite Obi-Wan’s quiet indication towards the futon Cody unsteadily drops to his knees right where they are. Just out of reach of his current thoughts is the notion that he needs the hardness of the wooden floorboards right now, not a cushioned mattress, nothing soft and gentling anymore. The thighs under Cody’s hands tense and jump at his first lick up the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, and even more when he sucks the head into his mouth, laves his tongue widely across foreskin.

He's vaguely aware that his pace is so much more hurried than Obi-Wan’s had been, that he’s racing towards one of their typical fuel station, trucking outpost, backwater bar conclusions. The hands in his hair aren’t trying to slow him down, though, just following the movement of his head, occasionally drifting down to the small hairs at the back of his neck, the first knob of his spine, and—Cody growls, sucks harder, clenches his eyes shut and rubs a finger at that sweet spot behind Obi-Wan’s balls, and finally feels him come apart above him with a short cry.

Cody swallows down as best he can, lets the rest drip across his chin in a gross mess, and he thinks, good, let him be gross. Let him be quick and dirty and bruised, stiff kneed on the floor, his own come drying across Obi-Wan’s stomach. He punches out a breath, wipes the back of his hand across his chin, ignoring the little sound of protest Obi-Wan makes. If this is really how Obi-Wan retires, if these are really the last set of coordinates Cody will have to memorize, if he has to take his damn shoes off every time he wants to see him—with the safflower picking and the wild hill grass and the breeze—

“Why did you tell me to come here,” Cody grinds out. He’s lying back on the futon where Obi-Wan had neatly arranged him, the meat of his chest and shoulder currently acting as Obi-Wan’s pillow.

Obi-Wan drifts a fingertip over Cody’s nipple. “Why have I ever told you to come to where I am before—”

“No, why here, Obi-Wan?” Cody stares resolutely up at the dark rafters. Obi-Wan’s back rises and falls underneath his hand, ever the even rhythm. He dares a glance down at the top of Obi-Wan’s head, as if he could possibly see evidence that they both know exactly what Cody’s asking.

After letting out a measured exhale that makes Cody’s skin shiver, Obi-Wan says, “I wanted you to know where I’d be.”

“Why,” Cody asks again, because it’s never been about knowing where the other one was, before. It’s never been about location, because it’s always been about constant motion. They’ve always been moving, and it’s never mattered which direction, but if one of them stops, then—then the other has no choice—

“You know why,” Obi-Wan says, and Cody can feel the flick of his lashes that means he’s rolling his eyes. Having Obi-Wan’s head on his chest has made him too conscious of his own breathing, and Cody tries desperately to fend off the deeper movements he needs to make. Obi-Wan says, “It’s always been you. So you know why,” and Cody feels his throat close up, his lower lip start trembling.

He looks up and away, closes his eyes, feels Obi-Wan shift and pick up his head, no doubt to better witness the awful reaction that Cody’s having. He wishes Obi-Wan would not put this weight on him, a solid, unshifting anchor that also, on the same hand, uproots everything.

Obi-Wan smooths his hand firmly along the side of Cody’s belly, over and over, and Cody waits until he thinks he has himself under control again before saying, “Okay.”

And that’s that, he supposes, as they lie there until the sun truly is down, keeping the silence that is only faintly broken by the chirping of nearby crickets.

Cody wakes the next morning, just as the sky is starting its dim glow. They’ve veered off of one another in the night, the air still slightly too hot for touching even without the sun’s direct glare, and Cody snakes his way off the futon and out the sliding panel, grabbing his pants on the way out.

The flower pickers are already at work, cleverly starting before the real heat of the day. Cody watches the little orange-yellow safflowers bobble all the way down the hill in a breeze he can’t feel yet, and wonders what Obi-Wan’s rent is like, if he’s actually paying any kind of room-and-board. In the easy quiet of the dawn, he can admit that it’s beautiful here, that he’d rather come here to see Obi-Wan than anywhere they’ve been before. Cody lets his eyes relax on the deep morning green of the flower bushes, rubs his thumb over the old scar on the back of his wrist, and admits to himself that it’s always been Obi-Wan for him, too.

#codywan #codywanweek2021 #day 7 domestic #spicy

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