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jpoakbrook · 2 years

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BEYOND THE STARS, BEYOND THE SEA

chapter 16: THE ARCHIVES PT 3 (end of arc)

summary: The Omwati meeting; Obi-wan's room

notes: Suuuuuper short chapter but only because my adhd forced me to start on the next arc before this one was finished.

Buckle in, dear readers. Next arc is going to be a wild fucken ride.

“This is a calming tea that the Omwati people drink when they’re stressed. After a long flight, I’m sure it’ll be welcome,” you were explaining to Qui-gon as you started brewing the tea. He was watching you with bright eyes. “It’s made from household flowers that are commonly grown on Omwat. It’s really cool because those flowers have a life cycle of exactly 100 days after the seed sprouts!”

Your excitement was palpable, and it made the other 3 jedi from Qui-Gon’s lineage quiet down as they tuned into your words, though your gaze was only focused on Qui-gon. “It takes 20 days to get to maturity. From there, the flower leaks pollen in a liquid form that can be collected over 2 days. This is used in medicine, often like a salve that can heal minor abrasions and disinfect wounds.” You pushed your journal over to him, where you had sketched out the life cycle and notes. Your handwriting was scrawled and in a mixture of different languages in your own little shorthand. But the pictures were detailed and looked like they belonged in an ancient herbology book. The other 3 crowded around Qui-gon as they peered over him, Ahsoka’s chin resting on top of his head as she nearly crawled onto his back to look.

“At 40 days, the flower petals themselves start to darken. The smaller ones here,” you said and pointed to the small sepals that were underneath the petals, “these ones fall off then. They are either ground for more medicinal purposes or dried for smoking. And at 80 days, the petals fall off, used for tea. It leaves behind this stem.” You turned the page and showed them a petalless flower where the round, flat pistil looked dried and holey. “At 100, this stem starts to decay. It needs to be baked immediately, which can then be whittled into medical instruments with a natural sterilisation to them. Or it can be sliced up and used as an additive in cooking for a sweet flavour. The roots are taken, dried, and can be separated with this fork device to create thousands of impossibly strong threads that are?” you asked.

“Naturally sterile and used for stitching and medicine,” Qui-gon guessed. You beamed and nodded, pointing at the picture.

“Exactly! And this is a common plant there! Imagine what else they have?” you gushed and turned your attention back to the teapot you were preparing. Qui-gon looked at Ahsoka and Anakin, who were flipping through your flora journal and looking at the pictures, and then he looked at Obi-wan. But his eyes were focused only on you.

After the Omwati arrived and were taking their seats, as you were translating for him with a weird but very sing-ing type voice that the bird-folk seemed to understand, Qui-gon realised that Kit Fisto had been right. Your presence was addicting. Your enthusiasm, your genuine love of language and cultures, and the way you approached everything with your whole heart. He understood how the others had become to attached to you so easily; he’d only been here a couple weeks, and he was already protective. He couldn’t imagine after 10 years of having you.

“He would like to know if you have given his offer any more consideration,” you were asking the couple in front of you. They had guards standing behind them, but they all seemed much more relaxed after you started speaking instead of a droid.

“We have more questions before we would like to make a decision.” You nodded for him to ask away. “What exactly would this textbook be used for?” You asked the question of Qui-gon, who cleared his throat and looked at them. You translated as he spoke.

“Part of our training programme for the children here includes a medical course. After extensive research with the Archivist, we have come to the understanding that the people of Omwat are some of the most resourceful medical experts in the Outer Rim. You have much more experience with Outer Rim flora that can be used in medical situations. We would love to share knowledge about those resources to better prepare them in the event they are out there and need emergency first aid,” he said.

“Do you not have the information here?”

“We do… but not like you. Ours is based off of outsider knowledge and outsider usage. Take for instance, you tea,” he said and motioned to the drink that they were sipping. “I would’ve known about the petals from my research, but it took a specialist who was able to translate entries from your people to show us all of the uses of it,” he said with a motion to you now. You smiled at him and looked at the couple, who nodded their heads to you.

“It’s delicious. Thank you. You studied it well,” one of the men said. You smiled at him.

“If we could get a textbook from you about the natural medicine that can be found on Outer Rim planets we are less familiar with, we could prepare our students more than we can now. Less and less will die because of lack of medical attention on an unfamiliar world,” he said. Your translation came through strained. You didn’t know what was riding on this, and the emotion in your tone was clear.

“Are you surprised by this, archivist?” one of the men asked.

“I didn’t know that was what this meeting was about,” you admitted, unable to hide your surprise.

“They didn’t share this information with you?” the other asked, confusion on his face. You shook your head.

“I’m just a simple librarian, sir. I don’t have much to do with their meetings unless they need me to translate. My entire life revolves around knowledge.” Qui-gon wasn’t asking you to translate for him now, and you weren’t sure you would if he did. It was a private chat, questions from a couple of obviously wary Omwati.

“Do you think they will use this knowledge for good?” he asked. You tilted your head, and he understood the confusion. “If we are to give this knowledge, it could also be used for great evil. It could be twisted and manipulated into poison.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen, sir,” you quickly assured him. They said nothing, so you continued. “My job is about the purity and sanctity of knowledge. I gather all that I can from the known and unknown worlds alike. All I am here for is to learn more.”

“Yes, but what about them?” he asked with a nod to the jedi.

“They will not twist it. Whether you believe it or not, these people are sworn to protect the galaxy, to do good. But this isn’t really about them,” you said and leaned forward. “This is about the children who are going to be them some day. They are just children, no older than a nestling and just barely turning into fledglings. They’re going to be out in these worlds. They’re like me: trying to gather knowledge and study and learn as much as they can. But the fact is that there dangerous creatures out there that want to harm them. This textbook? It isn’t for these adults who already have an outlook on life that I may or may not agree with. It’s to make sure these children have a future so they can decide that outlook for themselves,” you said.

They were smiling, and one of them laughed lightly. He motioned to you and spoke to Qui-gon in a broken Galactic Basic. “She was good idea for dealing.” That made them all chuckle, and Qui-gon nodded as he clapped a hand onto your shoulder.

“Yes, I find she does have that effect,” he responded with a laugh.

“We have more questions, archivist,” one of the men said. You nodded for him to continue, and the meeting went with ease. Qui-gon already knew they had decided long before they came here. But the meeting set their minds at ease, and he knew you had helped more than you could ever know.

The Omwati were staying for a couple of days, but your job with them was done. You were thanked whole heartedly and sent on your way as Qui-gon wrapped things up. It was… strange. You always felt so strange after short meetings like this. You had done so much research, learned so much in a little time, and… now what? What were you supposed to do with all this information floating around in your head?

~ * ~

You did as normal when you were feeling that special sort of useless: you went to your study and wrote. You wrote down everything you knew, in journals and typed directly into the data pad. You poured all of the information out of your head, feeling more and more empty as the words and drawings appeared. You started at midday, and it was nearly 3am when Obi-wan found you there.

“You’re still up?” he asked softly. You hadn’t even heard him enter. He was standing beside you at your desk leaning down to look in your eyes. You blinked at him, and your eyes were dry.

“Obi-wan,” you drawled, a smile slowly creeping across your face.

“Hello, my dear. Are you ready for bed?” he asked. You blinked again and shook your head.

“No, I have too much to do. I have so much more to write,” you protested and weakly fought against his grip. He didn’t give you much choice, though, and carried you to bed anyway. He slipped in beside you and moved around a couple of times before huffing. You were nearly asleep, but he was struggling to get comfortable as he tossed and turned. It slowly woke you up, and you huffed to glare at him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I can’t get comfortable on his bed now,” he sighed.

“It’s the standard bed for the archivists. I’m sure the Head Librarian has a better one, but simple rooms have these,” you said.

“My room doesn’t,” he muttered. There was a long pause before he looked at you and raised his eyebrows silently.

~ * ~

You weren’t sure what you were expecting of Obi-wan’s room. Probably just a standard bed, a bookshelf, and a desk at most. But his room was homely. He had a small apartment in the temple, despite the jedi supposed to not have possessions. Apparently, it meant just the connection to those things and the understanding that these things were just temporary and could be taken away at any moment.

His apartment was surprisingly cosy, and the living room held a clean and plump couch. There were bookshelves along the walls, and it reminded you of your own home, except his bookshelves were a bit more bare. There were framed photos on shelves, a plant here and there. Very aesthetic. There was a bathroom and a bedroom, no need for an office. His room held a large bed with a nightstand on one side. His sheets looked inviting to your weary bones. His headboard was horizontal slats of wood. He was already undressing as you stepped in behind him, and you were making fast work of your own clothes.

“Oh, uh, Juniper?” he asked as you undressed. You quirked a sleepy eyebrow at him, and he was very pointedly looking above your head. “You… uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say, and you could see the blush on his cheeks. Confused, you looked down. You had slept with Obi-wan plenty of times before, and he hadn’t complained about your attire before. A tank top and shorts or underwear were pretty standard for your bedtime. It took you a moment as you blinked away your exhaustion to recognise your bare chest.

“Oh.”

A furious blush burned your cheeks and ears, and you quickly crossed your arms over your chest, spinning away from Obi-wan. “I am so sorry,” you quickly gasped. You forgot your tank top? You never forgot it when you slept outside of your apartment! But, then again… you had intended to go back there after you finished writing all your notes down. It was Obi-wan who threw a wrench into these plans.

“It’s okay. Here,” Obi-wan said and fumbled for a t-shirt from his dresser to toss at you. You slipped it on, finding the dark cloth long enough to cover you up as you took off your pants as well. Cuddling up had been a little awkward at first, but exhaustion took you both before long. You noted, though, that Obi-wan’s hands wandered a little higher up your stomach than they usually did.

~ * ~

Obi-wan lay uncomfortably as he felt her relax in his arms. She was facing away from him, her body pressed against his. It wasn’t the bed that was the problem; it was the writhing within his chest and stomach. His breath came light and his heart was pounding as his mind turned over the sight of her body. Of course he had seen her in a tank-top plenty of times, even before they started sleeping together. It was her standard wear for training with the 212th. Though, that tank top was higher cut and had thick straps. The one she wore to bed had thin straps and was low cut. He would be lying if he said he never noticed her ample cleavage.

He knew she was exhausted, and he couldn’t blame her for undressing like she had a million times before. It just very much surprised him when he realised that the tattoos that covered her chest and arms continued down. He could now see the bottom half of a rather cool looking stained-glass krayt dragon. He had seen the head of it on her left shoulder, and it curved around her left breast, settling beneath on the left side of her stomach and ribs. There were other tattoos that covered her torso, but that one stood out to him the most before he tore his eyes away from her.

But he couldn’t stop his mind from running it over and over. He had an arm over her waist, fingers splayed on her stomach. She was so soft, so small. His hand rose over time without him realising it, and it was a half-hour before he realised he was all but cupping her breast. He slowly moved his hand away, not wanting to wake her up, but she stirred as he started to move. She grabbed his arm and pulled his hand beneath her face. His arm was held between her breasts, now, and he didn’t dare move his arm away.

He was a little uncomfortable and scooted his lower half away from her a little, but she mirrored his actions in her sleep, firmly planting her body against his. Including pressing her soft curves against his not-so-soft problem. He stifled a groan and closed his eyes, trying to focus on control. But it was difficult with her scent surrounding him, her warmth radiating and seeping into his bones, and her softness comforting him like nothing else in this world.

“Juniper?” he whispered long after he was sure she was asleep. She hummed in question, but he knew she wasn’t actually awake. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered in her ear. She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her head, settling back down behind her.

“Good night, my love,” she whispered in a language that he didn’t understand, but the words came through to him anyway. He was grateful for the Force at times like this.

“Good night, my dear,” he responded. His heart was pounding, and he allowed himself to let go, to embrace her tightly, forget where they were, and just enjoy being there with her now. He forgot about the war, about his vows, about his entire lifetime of training. To him, at that moment, there was nothing more than the archivist in his arms and her smile.

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parttimepadawan · 6 years

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Overtaken Pt. 3 (Hux x General!Reader)

A/N: I move back into my dorm room tomorrow T^T Blech. School. There will probably only be one or two more parts after this since I dove into it without thinking. Overtaken was originally meant to be a standalone, but now here I am with no plan. Oops.

Warnings: violence

Word count: 4438

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

As you spent the next few weeks living with Puffpuff, it became more and more clear that you should never become a parent. You spoiled the little thing absolutely rotten with trinkets, toys, and playsets all scattered about your quarters. You no longer held private meetings in your quarters, it had become so unprofessional.

“Look, mommy! I’m taller than you!” he cried from atop his tower that you’d ordered for him. It stretched nearly to the ceiling and was part of a network of tubes that worked their way throughout the room. It was a necessary purchase after you’d tripped over Puffpuff one too many times and nearly broke something.

“That’s great, squirt,” you said distractedly, tapping at your datapad while walking toward the door. It was the only pet name you would allow yourself for the little tyke, besides Puff. “Mommy has to go to work now. I’ll see you later, okay? Use your keypad if you need anything.” Reaching up and ruffling his fur once, you looked for your gloves before you could leave.

After several minutes of searching, they still hadn’t turned up. “Have you seen my gloves, Puff?” you asked. A whimper came from one of the towers in the room and you climbed up to peek in through a window. There sat Puffpuff, rubbing his face on your gloves, which he’d stashed away in a corner of his tower. You reached for them but his eyes stopped you.

“Can’t I keep them, mommy? You’re always gone,” he started, and he didn’t even need to finish before you gave in. You sighed and scratched under his chin.

“You know I’ll always come back, squirt,” you said. Had you really been neglecting him so much?

“But you’re gone for so long!” You hummed and frowned guiltily.

“Alright, squirt, you can keep them. But that’s it, okay? No more running off with my things.” He nodded and settled in on top of the gloves for a nap. You waited, and soon enough his breathing slowed and his eyes slipped shut.

You didn’t mind it so much since you had a spare pair of gloves. These were leather, unlike the soft fabric of the ones Puffpuff was currently sleeping on. You slipped them on and chuckled to yourself. You had no idea Hux’s hands were so small. Checking again to make sure everything was in place, you looked over at Puffpuff one last time before you left.

Your office was in a state of disarray. Papers scattered about your desk, trash can pulled out from under your desk to accommodate the growing pile of empty caf cups, and chair pushed away from your desk in a hurry. Just as you’d left it the night before. You laid your datapad down and tapped at the keypad on the wall to call for a droid to take out the trash and for another cup of caf. You had another long day ahead of you.

Competition in the workplace was never an especially fun experience, no matter who you were up against. You may not have had to worry about Tarkin after he’d botched his attempt at cornering the Rebels on his own, but Hux had been supervising your mission on Arbra, which left most if not all the credit for its success to him. With all reported Rebel activity on Arbra at a stop, you were now working with Hux to round up the ones that escaped Tarkin, and you were bent on getting the recognition you deserved.

At least, you would if they hadn’t done such a good job at hiding. The interrogators in charge of the Rebels captured on Arbra had gone trigger-happy, to both yours and Hux’s fury. You had half a mind to execute them for sabotage, but Hux had jurisdiction, being supervisor. Now with no one alive to tell you where the others could be, you were back to square one and working harder than you ever did as a lieutenant.

The trilling indication of a call coming in through your datapad rang through the room and you accepted it without looking up from your maps of the areas surrounding Crait. They couldn’t have gotten far without fuel, you hoped. The little blue hologram popped up in the corner of your vision with Lieutenant Ventra on the bridge as its centerpiece. From what you could see in his background, it was unusually busy.

“What is it, Ventra?” you asked. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“General Hux is here and requests your audience in conference room 26, ma’am.” Your hands stilled, the holomap still twirling in front of you with your finger on the button.

“Did he say why?” you asked impatiently. The man had been getting on your nerves lately, though that was nothing new. Ventra shook his head and you sighed, powering down the holomap. “Tell him I’m on my way.” You ended the call and slipped the datapad into your pocket, making your way to conference room 26.

Hux stood with his back to you when you entered, along with some of your advisors as well as his own. You frowned at him, not caring whether or not he saw. He was making it a habit to turn up on your ship unannounced and it was rather inconvenient more often than not, and now he’d dragged your staff into his shenanigans.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Hux?” you asked, hands behind your back as you walked up to him. He turned away from the window and regarded you with the same bored look as was usual.

“We have a lead,” was all he said, and all thoughts of snark and sarcasm were gone. You took a seat with him at the table and your advisors followed. One of Hux’s advisors projected a holomap into the air and the meeting began.

You wondered what they were trying to pull, hiding on a planet like Omwat. The large cities provided cover, sure, but why choose a planet with no clear alignment? You hoped that the Omwati would give them up, for clearly there was a lesson that needed to be taught. Hux went on to zoom in on the planet and point out which cities they would be searching first, the cities lighting up blue on the green holomap as he listed them. Your brows furrowed. There were too many.

“We don’t have the men to cover all these cities at once, General,” you cut in. Much of the fleet was preoccupied keeping their eyes on other planets, other safe havens for the Rebels. The only infantries left available for this assignment were Hux’s and your own. You didn’t like spreading your troops out as thinly as this was going to require.

“I assure you, General L/N, that the number of men in our combined fleets will be more than enough to carry out this mission,” he said. “Your anxieties have no ground here.” You frowned.

“Underestimating the enemy is a mistake we cannot afford to make here. These are large industrial cities with natives that are just as likely to side with the Rebels as they are to side with us. The number of men we have will not suffice to lay these uncertainties to rest,” you said. You looked to your advisors for backup, but they seemed to side with Hux on this one.

“With all due respect, ma’am, the chances of your worries coming to fruition are considerably low. There is much more to gain in its success than there is to lose in the case of its failure.” After that advisor had spoken, several more chimed in, all in agreement to go through with the plan. With yourself being the only one against the plan, its execution was agreed upon and the meeting adjourned.

“Leave the map,” you said to Hux’s advisor, who had been readying to shut it down. He nodded and left the room with the others, while you stayed where you were seated to rove over it again. It was a large planet with large cities, the perfect setting for an ambush at every possible turn. Any one squad picked off in the cities would have very slim chances of defending themselves. With your already small sector of the fleet, you weren’t keen on losing any of your infantry.

You heard footsteps coming up behind you, but didn’t look back. “This information is new, L/N. Chances of ambush are slim at best. Even if one or two does occur, stormtroopers are replaceable.” Your fist stayed where it was at your chin, partly covering your mouth. He didn’t get it. His stormtroopers were replaceable. With all of the recognition he’s gotten for his work, he had advantages that you didn’t. Your troops were finite, and with nothing even close to Starkiller Base under your belt, so were your resources. If you lost something, it was gone.

With nothing in reply from you, Hux left quietly. The door hissed shut behind him as you continued to mull your options over in your head. You had heard of the Omwati before, come across them in your studies. They weren’t like the Hoojibs; as adorable as they were, they were but intelligent rodents. The Omwati were a proud race equal to humans, as much as humans didn’t want to admit it. The only real difference between an Omwati and a human was that an Omwati had feathers on their head instead of hair. They built cities, they had language and culture, they had the same complex thought process. All this meant that you would be unable to guess their every move.

With no other choice, you plugged your schedule for the mission into your datapad. Your men would be put into larger groups, but leave earlier than Hux’s to cover the ground they were assigned. You just hoped it was enough to keep your fears from coming to life. Tapping once more to confirm your schedule, you shut off both your datapad and the holomap and headed to the bridge.

By the time you arrived, the hustle and bustle had died down, almost as if it had never happened. At your arrival, Lieutenant Ventra approached, visibly nervous.

“Lieutenant,” you greeted. He was strangely distracted, acknowledging your greeting but not offering more, though he hovered relentlessly. “State your business, Lieutenant. My patience runs thin today.”

He straightened up considerably and stuttered an apology. “Th– There was a call to the bridge for you during your meeting with General Hux. It was from General Tarkin to inform you of your upcoming assignment on Omwat.” You nodded.

“I am aware of the assignment. You may return to your post, Lieutenant,” you said. Ventra nodded and scurried off. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and you trudged into your quarters, still wondering if there were some way to heighten your men’s chances of making it off of Omwat without incident.

You readied yourself for bed seemingly on autopilot as Puffpuff watched from his perch outside the door of the refresher. He hopped down from his tower when you came out, racing to the bed and curling up on his corner of the blanket. You still worried, but your fears were eased some at the sight of Puffpuff. He wouldn’t be leaving the Subjugator, you knew, and that was a comfort in itself.

You reached out and he came closer, pushing his face into your palm. You sat cross-legged and pulled him into your lap. He settled and you watched as he played with your hands, wiggling your fingers at him to make him laugh. The game lasted only for a moment before Puffpuff pressed down on your hands and looked up at your face.

“Something happened.” It wasn’t a question. You shook your head.

“No, not really. I have a mission in a few days or so, but that’s not something for you to worry about,” you said. You still spoke out loud to him, despite learning some time ago that you could speak to him telepathically as he did to you. “How was your day?” You knew you would receive the same answer you always did, but you asked all the same. You let the sound of Puffpuff’s voice as he rattled off all the toys he played with lull you to sleep, still sitting and leaning against the wall.

The days leading up to your assignment on Omwat passed far too quickly for your liking. Caught up in all your duties, you hardly had the time to mull over the assignment, and you were forced to send your troops out as planned. You were to once again handle negotiations with the councilman in their capital city, with Hux acting as supervisor for both his troops and yours in your absence.

You sat alone in your transport, sipping at a cup of tea that had long gone cold. With extra security measures on Omwat, each transport had to be inspected before gaining clearance to land on the planet proper. You massaged your temples, desperate for something to do. Sitting still had you thinking again and you didn’t like it one bit.

Abandoning your tea entirely, you watched through the window as the ground approached and the ship shook slightly upon landing. You watched your datapad as you disembarked, waiting for your squads to check in. One ping after another sounded as each squad reported landing and you gave orders to hold until all had been accounted for.

Within the hour, all squads had been dispatched among the three cities you were assigned with orders to report to Hux until further notice. You yourself roamed the capital city in search of your guide who was to bring you to the councilman. You drew more than a few sets of eyes, being the only recognizable human, and with a squad of stormtroopers surrounding you on all sides. You glanced over the hustle and bustle of the crowd around you, unable to tell one blue face apart from another, the multitude of colored feathers passing you by, their gazes lingering on you for much longer than yours on any one of them.

“General L/N!” You perked up, turning around to find where the voice was coming from. An Omwati with red feathers sprouting from his head pushed his way through the crowd to get to you and your squad holstered their blasters at your signal. You greeted him when he finally reached you, clearly out of breath.

“You must be my guide,” you said, and the Omwati nodded. He pointed off to a large building some ways away.

“The High Councilman is awaiting your arrival at the consulate. Please, follow me,” he said and started walking at a much more relaxed pace. The consulate was sturdy and large, with the same imposing air as a fortress. You felt oddly nervous just looking at it. Once within the consulate, the guide led you through a series of twists and turns, so many that you’d lost track. This, combined with the unwelcoming atmosphere of the building in general, set you even more on edge. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and you were left at a door. The guide left quickly and you were left to knock hesitantly.

“Come in,” you heard from a gruff voice behind the door. Upon your entrance, the councilman rose, looking much more welcoming than he sounded. “Ah, General L/N! Welcome to Omwat! I trust you were taken care of on your way here?” he said. You nodded, and shook his offered hand. He pulled out your chair for you and you thanked him graciously, but he seemed displeased somehow.

“I’m afraid I must ask that your guards place their weapons on the table at the side of the room,” he said, eyeing them distrustfully. Ignoring his obvious distaste, you agreed, motioning for them to do as he asked. Once disarmed, they returned to their place standing behind you, all under the watchful eye of the councilman’s own guards. You noticed that they also appeared unarmed, which set you a little more at ease. The councilman took his seat across from you and the meeting began.

Part of the way through the meeting, you’d pulled your datapad out from your pocket and projected a holomap of Omwat to use as a visual aid. “There have been accounts of Rebel activity in the southern corners of Milledge and Vexham, the northern edges of Canport and Gaffrath, and in the centers of Yhonio, Azul, and Botol.” As the councilman spoke, you placed digital markers in the areas he listed. When you were done, you noticed that all the markers were spaced far apart, circling the entire planet in a wide net.

You frowned to yourself, not liking the circumstances. With your troops spread this far apart, reinforcements were never going to be able to assist in the case of an ambush. Perhaps you could convince Hux to order a transfer of troops to strengthen your numbers. “Is something wrong, General?” the councilman asked. You shook your head.

“No, nothing that is of any fault of yours,” you said, and stood from your seat. “I thank you for your cooperation, High Councilman. In exchange, I give you my word that my troops’ activity will be heavily restricted to the areas you have identified, your people’s safety in our time here, and three metric tons of durasteel, as promised.”

“It was a pleasure doing–” Before the High Councilman could finish his sentence, an alarm rang from your datapad, signaling an urgent message. The name Tarkin flashed brightly on its screen and you were not the only one to notice. By the time you processed how quickly the councilman’s mouth turn downward, he had already barked his orders in Omwatese to his guards.

Without time to reach for your own weapons, you and each of your guards were incapacitated and bound. Pressed against the table, cheek flush against your datapad, the alarm still ringing loudly in your ear and the brightness of it forcing you to close one eye, you glowered darkly. Your eyes met that of the councilman.

“What is the meaning of this?” you growled with bared teeth. The councilman’s jaw tightened and he looked down his nose at you when he muttered another order to his guards, once again in Omwatese.

You were taken to a detention center in another part of the city, each of your troops held in a different cell. You had no way of telling how much time had passed, and your guess was likely as reliable as a bantha’s. Your outrage kept you from keeping proper track and with your belongings confiscated, you had no way of calling for help. You passed your time with loud outbursts of rage and kicks against the clear walls of your cell. You ignored the eyes of your squad watching as you lost control of yourself for the first time since they’d been assigned to guard you.

Eventually the councilman came to fetch you himself with two of his guards by his side. He had a smug look on his face at the sight of you, and you supposed you would have too if your roles had been reversed. It had been some time since you’d let anyone see you in a state as bad as the one you were currently in. Your hair was in complete disarray, having run your hands through it many times over, your teeth were bared and gritted so tight you feared they might crack, and your eyes no doubt resembled that of a cornered beast. This was a low you’d never wanted to reach again.

“Come with me, General,” the councilman said in Basic, and gave a command to his guards in Omwatese. With a pair of magnetic cuffs locking your wrists together, you were led into a room with solid walls and no windows, the only door slamming shut behind you. Your wrists were secured to a chain above your head and it was yanked up so you were forced to stand on your toes. You shut your eyes. You knew where this was heading.

“Tell me, snake,” the councilman started, and you met his eyes defiantly. “What does Tarkin want with our planet? Surely his father before him has done enough.” You licked your lips, your throat dry from yelling at nothing all that time in your cell.

“I told you everything during our meeting. We are only here to capture the Rebels as enemies of the state, nothing more,” you said. Your voice came out a little raspy and you inwardly winced. You’d definitely overdone it in your cell. You barely saw his hand twitch before the chain was yanked up higher, stretching your arms uncomfortably with the tips of your boots barely scraping the floor.

“Liar,” the councilman hissed. “Tell me, has he come to continue what his father started?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not affiliated with the Galactic Empire. I am a general of the First Order.” Perhaps not for much longer, you thought darkly. “I don’t know what Wilhuff Tarkin has done to your people in the past, but General Vilert Tarkin and myself share the same goals; the ones I made clear in our negotiations.” Already your arms tingled, and your shoulders were uncomfortably stiff. The councilman scoffed and in the next moment you had the wind knocked out of you with a blow to the side. The cry that left you was more out of surprise than any actual pain, but it satisfied him all the same.

A guard at your side stood with a large rectangular piece of what appeared to be steel. If you didn’t feel any pain now, you would soon. He drew back and you readied yourself for the second blow. The councilman caught your flinch and held up a hand. “Are you ready to tell the truth?”

“I have been telling the truth.” The hand came down. The steel hit harder this time, and your side was engulfed in waves of pain, pulsing in and out while you tried to get the air back into your lungs.

You were offered no further breaks in between beatings. They continued relentlessly and you grew weaker with each one, now no longer even able to stand on your own two feet. The chain had been lowered in a small act of mercy to allow you to rest on your knees after the councilman had gone some time ago. “Let my men know when you’re ready to confess,” he said, “and I will return to save you.”

On his way out, you raised three fingers, the sign he gave you to use when you wanted to confess. The guards flagged for his attention and he turned back. “Yes, General?” The look on his face was of such sadistic self-pleasure that it sent a shiver even up your own spine. You met his eyes regardless.

“Good luck getting anything out of me, High Councilman,” you said, spitting out his title. All smugness left him and darkened over. He gave a nod to continue and left, the door slamming shut once more behind him.

And so the beatings continued, both sides of you covered in bruises. It hurt to even hold yourself up now and your muscles ached with each time you moved in the slightest. You met the guards’ eyes, and noted just how young they were, still young enough to let the guilt show on their faces. Not a trace of the dark pleasure you saw in the councilman could be found in his guards and you smiled weakly.

“Do you have someone coming for you?” one of them whispered after another blow. By now you had gone limp. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, and let yourself bow toward the floor to save your muscles the pain of supporting your weight. “Ma’am, are you still conscious?”

You nodded, sighing deeply. “No. No one’s coming for me.” Your voice was much softer than it was when you first came in the room, and the guards frowned in response. “What time is it?” you asked, and were answered with the news that it was now late afternoon; the sun had not yet start to set. “No one is coming for me,” you confirmed to yourself.

You relaxed your neck and let your head fall forward again, letting yourself fall into your thoughts. No one knew that you had been captured; they likely thought that your negotiations had gone on for much longer than planned. That or they didn’t care. You thought back to Arbra, the last time you had been put in charge of negotiations and wondered how there could be such a stark contrast between two events that were supposed to be identical. No longer even able to look at you, the guards left the room. You felt a sense of relief at that; it was a mercy for you to keep your pitiful state to yourself.

As the door shut, the chain holding your wrists went slack and you landed on your side, drawing another weak scream out of you. You rolled onto your back, but the damage was done and you could feel your entire body throb. You panted through your teeth and hoped that the pain would ebb through sheer willpower. You had no such luck, but your blessings came to you when you heard voices outside the door and two blaster shots. The door hissed open and in stepped the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

On Hux’s command, a stormtrooper uncuffed you and carried you with an arm under your knees and another around your back. As a frightened Omwati led you out of the labyrinth that was the consulate, you peered up at Hux, walking beside you. He met your gaze and raised a brow.

“How is my squad?” you asked weakly. You could feel yourself falling asleep now that you were in the safety of your comrades’ care.

“Alive. All accounted for.” That was all you needed to hear. You smiled and breathed a soft ‘good’ before letting yourself slip into unconsciousness, swaying in the stormtrooper’s arms.

You woke up again briefly, now feeling much colder. With your eyes still shut, you could feel yourself being lowered, your feet dipping into something warm. Before your head was submerged, you felt a hand stroke your cheek softly and a warm breath drift across your face. Then it was dark again.

#armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #hux x reader #armitage hux #general hux #armitage hux imagine #general hux imagine #hux imagine #armitage hux fanfic #general hux fanfic #hux fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars reader insert #reader insert #fanfic #my writing #overtaken

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christianmasson · 4 years

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The power of the sun ☀️ Charging the water in My spectacularly beautiful Om Water bleu glass bottle by @OmWaterCanada1 . OmWater Designs, from the region of the Aragonese Pyrenees, is supported by three basic pillars: Ecology + Spirituality + Design . OmWater Gratitude A bottle made with love to transmit good vibrations to the water. The Golden Ratio (the structure reflected in Nature), the OM symbol (Creation´s sound), the Blue color to solarize the water, the Seed of Life pulsating from the bottom and Gratitude, all are unified in this bottle to positively raise the vibration of water and of those who use it. . Om Om Om 🙏🏽☀️ (at Namasté Empowerment Retreat) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8eIhkvHNG5/?igshid=9fbno6f2r6lv

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jediryssabean · 7 years

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when i run out of rope, you bring me home

happy star wars day everyone! may the fourth be with you! sorry that it’s two days late, but i swear... every day is star wars day when you believe.

i wanted to do something for it, but i’m moving stuff around and work and school, so you know...

BUT i actually finished something. it’s really short, but i’m pretty happy with it. and we all know how much i love the goddamn star wars au, and i’ve missed these boys so much.

Pairing: Eren/Levi Verse: The Force Shall Free Me (a star wars au) Rating: T Summary: Eren can feel Levi’s breath when he snorts, can see the beginnings of the laugh-lines at the corners of his mouth. “Eren.” Levi’s thumb is ghosting over the curve of his cheekbone, and Eren thinks his body might be melting. It always melts when Levi does this. “The only one who’s still haunted by Omwat is you.”

The Force crystalizes in the way it often does when Eren goes rigid like this. If he were to move, he’s certain that it would break into pieces around him. But the words pile up behind his teeth, dig into his cheeks, cut the lining of his gums—and the Force splits down the middle.

It feels like he’s falling through the stars.

Or you can [Read on AO3]!

(“eren,” a voice like fresh snow, creaking beneath its own weight. It had seemed to cast shadows in the unsteady light of hyperspace around them, throwing purples and blues against the front console, mingling with the blinking buttons that Eren still hadn’t quite known what to do with. “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Levi’s eyes had looked the same as always—stormclouds lit from behind by lightning.

“i know,” Eren had replied. He’d felt the Force ripple around them, had felt it bend around the nose of their almost too-small freighter, had felt it raise the hairs on his own arms. Or maybe that had just been his nerves, or the turning in his stomach, or the aching behind his eyes. “but i want to. i think we should.”

He’d paused, twisting his ring around his left finger. The beskar had felt warm against his skin.

And then he’d continued, “i think i should.”

Levi had only hummed, and it had been low enough to get lost in the sounds of the ship, but Eren had felt it anyway, just like he’d felt Levi reach out into the space between them with an open hand. Levi’s calluses had been welcome against Eren’s palm, had made all of this easier, had chased the taste of ozone from behind his teeth.

Eren had squeezed his fingers. Levi had squeezed back.)

Omwat feels exactly the same as it had almost two years before.

It’s summertime in this hemisphere, and the breeze is warm against his face, pulling at the hems of his robes and the ends of his hair. The whole planet is still freckled with life in pockets, and the Omwati brush against one another like windchimes in the Force. It feels beautiful, feels free, feels… like a pressure on his chest, like someone pressing down on his sternum with two hands, with four hands, with three hands and a blade pressed to his throat, and his breath is coming in short, unbearable gasps—

If Eren listens hard enough, he thinks he can hear himself speaking, and it’s like listening to someone at the end of a tunnel. There’s a stain on this world, there has to be, and he’s the one that left it there.

Levi’s hand is against his elbow, and he’s warm in the Force, and it’s like breathing in stardust, fills his lungs to bursting.

“Come on,” Levi says, and his grip is firm, his thumb pressing against a bone that Eren had broken long before he’d become a Jedi. “The village is just over this rise. It’s supposed to be pretty this time of year.” A smile, fleeting against his lips. “Apparently there’s some kind of flower festival? It’s supposed to be an immersive cultural experience.”

Eren’s laugh feels like sand against his tongue, but it’s there, and that’s what counts. “So that’s how you got Erwin to let us go for a couple days. ‘Investigation of local cultural development.’ I bet the request was an absolute thrill to read.”

Levi snorts, leading Eren down the crest of a hill that he’s walked in his dreams, the grass whispering against the underside of their boots. “It was an absolute fucking delight to read, thank you very much.”

The plains look like an ocean from here, the light turning into foam when the stalks shift just the right way. He almost expects golden droplets to be flecked in Levi’s hair when he glances at his face—but the sun does catch in his eyelashes, glittering when he blinks.

The first time they’d come to Omwat should’ve been for something better, Eren’s sure. It should’ve been for something meaningful, something that would leave them both breathless. They should’ve come here so that Eren could’ve seen Levi’s head haloed by grass, could’ve kissed him there, could’ve tasted laughter and fresh air and the chill of barely-dry dew.

They should’ve been able to do a lot of things here.

(Skin flaking against Eren’s throat, the hum of a lightsaber rubbing his skin raw with its energy, the way Levi’s eyes had searched Eren’s face and found nothing but tear-tracks and grass stains, sweat and something sharp and ugly.

And then, “come back.”)

But they hadn’t.

“Hey,” a sigh against his skin inside the Force, the brush of fingers against his cheekbones as they crest over the next hill. “You’re thinking something loudly and it’s interfering with my ability to walk in a straight line.”

Eren blinks and sees a village shaped in a honeycomb, stretched out below them. There’s no hard earth against his spine, nor is there a lightsaber at his pulse—but the inside of his mouth still feels covered with ink, still feels slimy with it, and even when he swallows he can feel it squirming between his teeth, crawling up his throat, creating tar in his lungs.

But his voice is even when he says, “I’m not thinking at all. I’ve never had a thought in my life.”

Levi huffs out a breath, shaking his head in a way that makes the breeze run its fingers through his hair. “Shut up. You always—“ he stops, his eyes tracing the shape of the village-sprawl as his hand drops away from Eren’s elbow. “Are you ready?”

The Omwati honeycomb doesn’t feel anything like the towns he’s used to. It’s not the barely-controlled chaos of Keldabe, or the overwhelming white noise of Coruscant, or the murmur of farming settlements on Qiilura. It’s like... music. It’s soft, and it’s gentle, and when the wind shifts against the base of the hill, he can smell nothing but summer, burning lamps, and flowers.

“Yeah,” Eren tells him, “I’m ready.”

This time when they make their way down the hillside, their fingers are laced together, and Eren’s palm is sweating.

The smashed-together scents of flowers are stronger down there, and Eren’s sure he’s never smelled any of them. They’re sweet, like purified nectar, or they’re like ice-melt, fresh and clean. Every flower is a different shape, a different color, a different size, and there are stalls of them just lining the main street. Omwati people are talking with one another in a language that’s all chatter and whistles, tossing feathered, pearlescent hair over their shoulders. Flowers exchange hands, though Eren can see no currency, and children duck between the legs of adults as they chase one another.

Petals scatter beneath their feet as Eren and Levi enter the village proper. And the screaming that Eren had expected doesn’t come.

Wide-pupiled eyes spare them glances, and questions are whistled in their direction. Flowers are held in thin-fingered hands and passed their way, dropped into their palms while smiles sit on lips. Children stop their play only to stop and point at their robes, at their joined hands, at the flowers starting to pile up in either one of their free hands.

It’s too idyllic. It’s not—this isn’t right. They’re supposed to be terrified, they’re supposed to run away, because this village had seen—their children had been taken and returned only by the grace of a madman. There’d been a Republic starship docked not even two kilometers away, flattening the grass into a broken crop-circle, and if the Omwati had any sense of self preservation, they’d’ve run away when they saw two Jedi coming over the closest hilltop—

Levi stops their journey with a tug on Eren’s hand, just out of reach of the main square and its chatter-sounds. Flower petals are sticking to the toes of his boots.

The Force is moving around them as Levi looks at him, and the movement of his eyes across Eren’s face leaves the sensation of butterfly kisses along his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids. Omwati women whistle at one another as they slip past them, tucking one flower each into the folds of both their robes.

Levi whistles his thanks. Eren’s tongue feels too heavy to do the same.

“What’s on your mind?” Eren takes one step forward for each of Levi’s steps backward toward the mouth of an alley that’s lined with carefully positioned flowers, some of their heads wide enough to be dinner plates in another life. It smells like a too-dry greenhouse. Levi unlaces their fingers before he continues, “you’re going to kill your flowers with a grip like that.”

Eren thins his lips, feels heat start to boil against the back of his sternum. “Oh, you know me. I’ve never been to a flower festival before.”

Exasperation tastes like dried beans in his mouth as Levi rolls his eyes, the feeling rattling in the Force like marbles in a jar. He lifts a hand to Eren’s cheek, and his touch is soft—it’s so fucking gentle, and Eren really should be used to it by now. It should stop driving him crazy, should stop setting his stomach into a series of unbelievable knots, should stop making his throat tighten with... this.

“The whole reason we came here,” Levi tells him, and—Force bless them both—the palm of his hand smells like sugar-water, “was to see how the kids were doing. To check on things, remember?”

“And to get away from the Temple.” It’s a noble effort, that airiness to his tone. A failure, sure, but noble.

Eren can feel Levi’s breath when he snorts, can see the beginnings of the laugh-lines at the corners of his mouth. “Eren.” Levi’s thumb is ghosting over the curve of his cheekbone, and Eren thinks his body might be melting. It always melts when Levi does this. “The only one who’s still haunted by Omwat is you.”

It feels like he’s falling through the stars.

“Everyone should feel like I do,” Eren says, and the flowers are trembling in his hands, his knuckles trying for all the world to go white, to crush the stems inside the circle of his fingers. “There’s a stain here, Levi. How can there—how can no one think about it, living here?”

He can feel Levi’s wedding ring against the side of his face. It’s warm—it’s unbreakable. It’s a fact that makes Eren want to choke.

“I’m going to say it again, slowly, okay?” A winter sky, endless and gray and beautiful. Eren drops his eyes to Levi’s lips. “‘The only one still haunted by Omwat is you.’” The sentence lingers there, curled up on the dirt path of the alley. And then, “this world is fine. It’s resilient, just like you. And if I could say more than ‘please,’ and ‘thank you,’ in Omwati, I’d say let’s have a second honeymoon here in five years.”

When Eren speaks, it’s like his throat has become no wider than a plastic straw. “I think I’ve heard that second honeymoons come after you’ve been married fifty years.”

One of Levi’s eyebrows arches high, a perfect curve. “That’s only if you have two honeymoons.”

Eren finds himself where he often does—bathing in light, in the Force, in the warmth of the place Levi had carved out there. He can feel gentle touches everywhere, can feel hands on his cheeks, can feel a stroke of fingertips against the back of his neck. It makes his eyes water, because everything still does. One day he might get over that. He hopes that he doesn’t.

“Levi.” Eren’s hand is shaking as he lifts a flower from those gathered in his hands. The petals are colored like a sunrise from the center stretching out—purple to red, red to orange, orange to yellow. He tucks it behind Levi’s ear, and he speaks no louder than trees gossiping to one another in a forest teeming with life. “I’m glad you’re here.”

A pause, and Levi cocks his head, attempting to lean into Eren’s touch, maybe. Or maybe he’s trying to figure out what to say. And then, “of course. Where else would I be?”

Music—real music, not the language of the people here—begins in the square they’d left behind. Laughter follows it, along with whistled phrases that Eren doesn’t know. All of this is inconsequential as Eren stoops to press his lips to Levi’s, as their mouths open against one another, as the Force opens up around them , making lights flicker on the back of Eren’s eyelids. The flower, tucked behind Levi’s ear, drags its petals against Eren’s hair, tickles the shell of his ear.

The flowers fall from Eren’s hands with nothing more than a sigh against the dirt as he holds Levi’s face between his palms. Levi’s tongue washes away the oil between his teeth, chases away the blood that had been clotting on the back of his tongue, breathes something warm back into his lungs.

“I love you,” Levi says, tracing it against Eren’s lips in a way that leaves dampness behind. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Eren replies, and it’s just as wet. Levi’s flowers join Eren’s between their feet. “I love you. You know?”

A smile, their noses brush, and Levi is too gorgeous for words. This is too gorgeous for words—this honeycombed village and its flower festival. The sun, curled up in the center of the petals of the flower tucked behind Levi’s ear. The way Levi’s lips look after they’ve just been kissed.

“I know,” Levi says.

Eren believes him, then. In a moment like this, he’d believe almost anything.

(That night, tucked against Levi’s body in the almost too-small bunk on the freighter in the middle of the Omwati plains, Eren will dream of his failure, like always.

The breeze will be cold against his face, and he will see the Republic ship below him as he stands atop a hill covered in bright green grass. The Omwati settlement will be just over the next rise, and in the dream it will never smell like flowers, nor will he hear the whistled language or the laughter of children. He’ll simply see the ship, the Jedi, and the trembling Omwati children hidden in the shadows there.

But this time, Levi will step up beside him—before he descends the hill, before his voice scalds his windpipe. Clouds won’t gather on the horizon.

“i want to come back,” Eren will say when Levi says nothing. He’ll hate the way his too-dark robes sit on his shoulders, he’ll want to claw his way out of his own skin, if only to avoid having to climb down this hill with the taste of ozone on his tongue. “i want to come back to you.”

Levi’s hand will be warm, in this dream, as he takes Eren’s fingers in his own.

Levi’s eyes will be shining, bright and gray and beautiful. The Force will be singing in his ears—or maybe that’s just what Eren’s heart would sound like, if it had a voice. It’s loud enough that he can feel it in his throat, that he can feel it making its way through his chest, that he can feel it press against the soles of his feet.

“haven’t you noticed?” Levi’s voice, like freshly fallen snow. “you already have.”)

#ryssafic #snk #shingeki no kyojin #ereri #eren jaeger #levi heichou #star wars au #the force shall free me #happy star wars day #may the fourth be with us all

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