✧˖°. Summary: You were sky drifting where you shouldn’t have been, with magic you barely understood—until everything changed, and you fell. Through clouds, and a stranger’s laundry line… and straight into the company of a wizard with stars in his eyes.
✧˖°. Word Count: 1.3k
✧˖°. Author's Note: Finally watched Howl's Moving Castle for the first time this weekend and I am absolutely in LOVE! I've gathered that this movie was adapted from a book, but this fic is purely based on my knowledge of the movie (to be fair, I've watched it four times over in two days). I love you mis pan dulcitos ₍^. .^₎⟆
The sound of propellers interrupts your afternoon nap. Sunlight beams down on your skin—warm and inviting—making it nearly impossible to keep your eyes open as you squint into the distance.
“Do you see that, Sisial? Over there, near Kingsbury.”
The cloud spirit you befriended last week rumbles beneath you, like an old woman clearing her throat. “If you’re just trying to trick me again, I’m not looking,” Sisial mutters.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes catching a glint of metal. Three military aircrafts have been deployed from the capital–grey, hawklike, and ugly against the soft blue sky.
“No, no. This isn’t like the rainbow thing,” you promise, but it’s no use. The stubborn spirit doesn’t even budge.
“It’s the royal air ships,” your voice comes out softly. “They’re sending more.”
“Make an awful mess of the sky, if you ask me.” Sisial exhales a puff of wind, more sigh than breeze. “Bit like you, ever since you started fiddling with that wind magic and crashed into my life.”
You roll onto your side. “Oh, hush. No one asked what you thought.”
“They should. I’ve been carrying brats like you since before your bones knew what life was..”
A faint smile pulls at the corner of your lips as you fall quiet, your gaze trailing the ships’ path.
“…You think it’s really starting?” you ask after a moment. Sisial doesn’t answer right away. The wind shifts—cooler, tighter. Then, in a low grumble, “Wars never really stop. Just the way these things go.”
The air ship’s engines thunder closer now, close enough to rattle your ribs. You sit up straighter. “They’re coming this way.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Sisial grunts. But they do.
The three metal beasts roar overhead, slicing through the sky like blade through silk. They’re deafening, churning the clouds surrounding you into a panic. You grab fistfuls of vapor, trying desperately to hang on, but Sisial’s form shifts, growing thinner beneath you.
“They’re too close, Sisial!”
She hisses as she struggles to gain stability, throwing your body between cloud puffs in the process. “Stupid boys and their stupid machines–”
Her voice evaporates into mist, and you realize she’s gone.
“Sisiaaaal!”
The air is stolen from your lungs as the sky yanks itself out from under you. Wind roars in your ears as your limbs flail helplessly. For a dizzy, terrifying moment, all you can think about is that you don’t recall where Sisial was flying over: a lake, Porthaven… the Waste.
Whump.
Fabric grazes your cheek like a lick of fire–white, sun warmed, and stretched taut. A sheet. Another. Then an entire row of laundry snaps around you, catching at your arms and legs. A ruffled button down tangles around your head before you crash through one last quilted blanket.
You tumble onto a narrow iron balcony with a final thud—winded, dizzy, and absolutely stunned. For a moment, you just lay there, staring up at the sky you fell from. The scent of lavender soap and fresh air drifts around you, coaxing your body to relax—until the ground beneath you moves.
A deep, steady vibration hums through the floor, like a train engine rumbling through stone. Blinking through the daze, you take in your surroundings. The balcony juts out from the side of a sprawling, elaborate house—but not a normal one. This house moves–its walls hidden by clouds, its walls creaking with age and strange magic. Laundry lines crisscross the railing, a kettle whistles somewhere inside, and smoke puffs from a crooked chimney.
You’ve landed on a walking castle.
“Bit dramatic for a landing, but I suppose I’m in no position to judge.”
You jolt upright, heart thudding. In front of you, seated comfortably at a wrought iron table, is a young gentleman. Golden hair curls in soft waves around his decorated ears, and his shirt looks too white to be a common townsperson such as yourself. He holds a porcelain teacup between two elegant fingers, barely looking at you.
His expression is politely bored–like he sees oddities like this all of the time. But judging by this moving castle of a home, he probably does.
“Who–who are you?” you manage, scrambling to your feet and running your fingers through your hair self consciously. The gentle curl of his smile makes you wonder if he’s witnessed the whole ordeal.
He glances at the linen shirt still draped over your shoulder. “You fall from the sky onto my balcony,steal my favorite shirt, interrupt tea time, and you want answers?”
The man’s eyes pierce through you, sharp and curious behind his amused expression. “At least you’ve made yourself at home.”
Your cheeks heat as you blink at him. “No, I–I didn’t mean to! You see, I didn’t know where I was falling. I mean–this wasn’t–”
He sets his teacup down and gives a low, theatrical bow.
“Howl Pendragon–wizard, and owner of this fine castle. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
You freeze. Everyone’s heard of Howl and his moving castle–it's almost all girls your age talk about. “Wait… you’re Howl?”
“In the living flesh.” He gives a faint shrug, as if the name means nothing to him. “Though I’ve heard I’m taller in the stories–and sometimes less charming.”
Dread settles deep in your belly, and you step back instinctively. “Everyone says you eat the hearts of girls. Is that true?”
“Ah, well.” Howl glances towards the open sky. “That would be the less charming bit of those tall tales.”
You don’t quite know how to respond to that, so you tug absently at the hem of your dress, eyes searching anywhere but his. After a subtle beat, he gestures lazily to the chair across from him.
“Sit, if you can manage it without destroying the rest of my wardrobe. Tea?”
His voice sounds almost detached, but not quite unkind. You hesitate, still catching your breath, and still unsure if you’ve actually survived or if floating castles are just part of the after life.
“…Okay.”
You sit down carefully, arms crossed tight around yourself. The porcelain teacup feels warm when he hands it over–it smells faintly of rosehips and honey.
Howl watches you quietly for a moment. The wind tugs gently at the sheets behind you. Quiet settles amongst you, but it feels serene rather than uncomfortable.
“You’re not from around here,” he says eventually.
“I’m not from anywhere in particular,” you reply. “I was sky drifting with a cloud spirit. Sisial.”
“Ah, her.” His eyes twinkle with recognition. “Grumpy old thing. Smells like sea salt. She always accuses me of redirecting the winds, you know.”
“She got snuffed out by the airships,” you explain quietly, your voice gentler than before. “They flew too close. Too fast.”
The words linger in the space between you, soft but heavy. You try to keep your tone neutral, but something flickers behind it—worry. You’ve grown so fond of Sisial, and you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.
Howl’s expression shifts into something gentler, more knowing. “Ah, don’t worry about her,” he says, swirling the last of his tea absently. “She’s older than the mountains and twice as stubborn. That one’s survived lightning storms and falling stars. A little accident like that won’t keep her down.”
You exhale, the tension in your shoulders easing just slightly. When you finally look at Howl, really look, something about him knocks the air out of you all over again.
He’s beautiful, yes—but not in any way that feels safe. There’s something untouchable about him, something unreal. Like trying to hold moonlight in your hands. But beneath the charm and ease, his sapphire eyes are clear, focused. There’s a stillness there that makes you think he sees far more than he ever says.
“I really didn’t mean to land here,” you murmur, glancing down at your hands. “I didn’t even know where I was landing.”
Howl tilts his head, a faint, amused glimmer returning to his face. “Well,” he says, voice warm, “I’m rather pleased you did. I was starting to think the wind had forgotten how to deliver anyone interesting.”
For my lovely L-anon, who wanted a lip gloss scene with L and Lysandre.
Here is Lysandre's
Premise: You're in Lumiose to take on it's gym leader, Clemont, and get side tracked with some shopping. Specifically, lip gloss.
For those New to this Series:
Click here for Part 1
Lumiose was loud in the way only a city at the center of everything could be—voices overlapping, Prism Tower visible through glass and steel, life humming with purpose. You told yourself you were here for the Gym.
The makeup store caught your eye by accident, all clean lines and warm lighting spilling onto the street. You stepped inside on impulse, the air cool and faintly scented with citrus and something floral. It felt indulgent—almost silly—but you’d learned long ago that small comforts mattered before big moments.
A display near the front drew you in.
Lip glosses—sleek tubes arranged like gemstones, labeled with soft, enticing names. One in particular caught the light: a plumping lip oil, glossy and luminous, promising nothing more than a little shine, a little hydration, and a little confidence.
“Those are new,” a sales associate chirped as she approached, already smiling. “And you have great lips. Do you want to try a few shades?”
You hesitated. Then nodded.
She produced a small tray of pristine sample bottles—clearly untouched—and handed you a disposable applicator. You tested one shade, then another, studying yourself in the handheld mirror she offered. Each one shifted your reflection just enough to feel new without feeling like someone else.
Then you tried the last.
The associate gasped softly. “Oh—that one.”
You tilted the mirror, angling it toward the light. The gloss caught, your lips fuller, softer, the color subtle but dazzling and radiant. You smiled despite yourself.
“I think this is the one,” you said, a little breathless.
“It’s perfect on you,” she said, genuinely delighted. “Like it was made for—”
“—you.”
The voice was male. Calm. Cultured.
You froze, eyes lifting instinctively—focusing off of your lips and meeting blue ones behind you in the mirror.
He stood behind you, tall, impeccably dressed, his reflection framed by the store’s soft lighting. His eyes were sharp but warm, curious in a way that made you suddenly aware of how long you’d been looking at yourself.
For half a second, neither of you looked away.
Then you turned.
He was handsome in a composed, deliberate way—his red-orange hair swept into soft spike, reminiscing of a male pyroar's mane, with an equally spiky red-orange beard. His posture was impeccable, expression thoughtful rather than intrusive.
You eyes narrowed in thought as you wracked your brain for a name. He didn't look familiar to you. Not initially. But as you took in his appearance you began to think you saw him at least once or twice and a cafe or in passing. Maybe you saw him when he was speaking to that one professor—the handsome man with black hair that had just enough curl to add to his charm.
The associate straightened at once. “Oh, Mr. Lysandre! Welcome.”
Lysandre inclined his head politely. “Good afternoon.”
You blinked. That was his name? He was named after a cafe? Lysander cafe?
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, turning his attention back to you. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”
You felt heat rise to your face. “Ah!—no, I...I was just—”
“Choosing,” he finished gently. His gaze flicked once more to the mirror, then to your lips. “You have a good eye.”
You laughed awkwardly, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. Compliments always did this to you—left you off-balance, scrambling for something practical to say.
“Um, thank you,” you managed.
“You’re not from this city,” he said, not as a question.
You startled slightly. “Is it that obvious?”
“A little,” he admitted, amused. “Lumiose has a rhythm. You’re listening to it rather than moving with it.”
That was… uncomfortably accurate.
“I’m visiting Kalos to take on their Pokemon League,” you said. “I’m here to take on Lumiose' Gym Leader.”
His interest sharpened, just a fraction. “Clemont.”
You nodded. “I’m challenging him tomorrow.”
“How exciting,” Lysandre said. “I admire Trainers who travel for their goals. There’s something… purposeful about it.”
You smiled, warmed despite yourself.
“May I ask when, tomorrow, you plan to face him?” he continued.
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Then perhaps I’ll be there,” he said easily. “To offer my support.”
The word support landed softly—but it stayed.
The associate cleared her throat, gesturing toward the counter. “So—uh—this shade, then?”
You nodded quickly, grateful for the interruption. “Yes, please.”
Before you could reach for your wallet, Lysandre stepped forward.
“I’ll take several,” he said.
You turned, startled. “Oh—no, you don’t have to—”
“I insist.”
His tone was pleasant, unyielding without being forceful. He met your eyes, something warm and assured there.
“Consider it encouragement,” he added. “A little shine can do wonders for confidence in battle.”
You hesitated. You should refuse. You hardly knew the man, after all, and the product wasn't exactly cheap even for just one bottle.
But he was already handing over his card.
The associate looked like she might faint.
You stood there, bewildered, clutching the small bag as it was handed to you moments later.
“Good luck tomorrow,” Lysandre said as he turned to leave. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
And then he was gone. The bell chimed softly as the door closed behind him.
The associate stared after him for a long moment, then slowly turned back to you, eyes wide.
“Oh,” she said, lowering her voice. “I didn’t realize you were his… lady friend.”
You nearly dropped the bag.
“What? No—no, absolutely not,” you said quickly, heat flooding your face. “I don’t even know him.”
Her expression shifted instantly—from surprise to curiosity. “You don’t?”
You shook your head. “Should I?”
She hesitated, then smiled a little, clearly amused. “That was Lysandre.”
The name landed heavier this time.
“He owns a big technology company in Lumiose,” she continued, clearly pleased to be explaining. “He’s… well. Very wealthy. Very influential.” She paused, then added, almost reverently, “And a philanthropist. He donates constantly—to clean energy projects, restoration efforts, education. Things meant to make the world better.”
You glanced down at the small bag in your hand.
"He's also the owner of Lysandre Cafe, and the leader of Team Flare," she continued.
“Team Flare?” you asked, recalling the name from something he’d said in passing.
Her smile brightened. “Yes! He founded it himself. It’s an organization meant to bring people together to make the world better and beautiful.” She sighed, wistfully. "He's such a wonderful man, wanting to help people and pokemon."
Beautiful.
The word echoed strangely in your mind.
“I can’t believe he bought those for you,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief. “He doesn’t usually—well. You must’ve made quite the impression.”
You laughed softly, uncertain. “I think he was just being kind.”
“Maybe,” she said. “Still… not everyone gets that kind of attention.”
Not having a response, you thanked her and stepped back out into the bright Lumiose street, the city rushing in around you all at once. Your fingers brushed the bag at your side, the weight of it suddenly more noticeable than before.
As you walked away, Prism Tower gleaming overhead, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d been noticed in a way that went beyond chance. While you’d just learned his name, his influence, his reputation, he’d already known exactly who you were simply by looking at you in the mirror.
You glanced once—just once—down the street he’d disappeared into. And you wondered, faintly, why Lumiose suddenly felt a little smaller than it had moments ago.
It's my birthday, so I thought I'd post this. Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone!
Summary: Y/N and Obi-Wan struggle with their Jedi duties keeping them apart.
Warnings: moments of great anxiety
Word count: 7.2k
Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist
The Kaminoans had developed what they called campfire rooms to mimic camps in battle at night. The optimal low lighting encouraged camaraderie as well as training the clones to sleep in rough environments. Apparently they figured that us Jedi were used to the same treatment.
Just as well. I didn’t want to be separated from the clones anyhow.
“Yeah, kid, any time you want to,” Skywalker was saying on my left, his face illuminated by the softly glowing light.
Ghon grinned, the familiarity of it making me smile too. “You really mean that?”
“Anakin has a lot he could teach you,” Obi-Wan said. He’d been strangely fidgety all evening.
“More than Y/N can.” Ghon leaned closer to Obi-Wan. “You should’ve taught her to fight better.”
“Excuse me?” I said as the three boys laughed. “If that’s how it is, I’ll just leave you three gasheads to your injuries then the next time you get stupid and hurt yourselves.”
“No, you won’t,” Ghon replied.
“No, she won’t,” Obi-Wan agreed, and the three men laughed again.
“If it weren’t for the Healer’s Code,” I grumbled.
A clone approached our group with a bag. “Rations.” He distributed the awful pink cubes and then went off to the next group. Ghon and Skywalker ate theirs without complaint or hesitation. I knew neither of them had always had access to food, which was probably why they’d take anything over an empty stomach.
Obi-Wan, however, grimaced down at the cubes in his palm, making no move to put them in his mouth.
Ghon nudged my side, and when I looked at him, gave a pointed look to my own cubes. I suspected Obi-Wan had told him at some point to make sure I was eating enough after my time in Dooku’s dungeon on Neftali; I’d never known a teenage boy to be so militant about someone else’s eating habits before.
Touched by his concern, I placed one in my mouth and chewed it once. Twice. Ugh, I wanted to barf. Thrice. Four times. It felt like dung on my tongue. Five times. Six times.
Deciding to risk the danger of choking over the danger of throwing up, I swallowed it and stared at the other three cubes in my hands. When I first joined the Jedi Order, I’d missed the food of my home planet, which was often spicy and savory. Jedi ate plain foods with very little flavor and no seasonings were offered at the Temple. It felt like eating paper.
Now I wished for the blandness of peacetime.
I was just about to ask when the Council was expected to get in touch with us when a voice from the group of clones sitting behind me caught my attention.
“How do they do it?” the higher voice of a clone youngling asked.
“I’m with him,” said an older version of the same voice. “I’ve never seen two Jedi work together so well as the two of them.”
I glanced around at my group, but Obi-Wan was chiming in on a conversation between Skywalker and Ghon about fighting stances. I supposed it didn’t matter; Obi-Wan and Skywalker were quite used to receiving praise for their teamwork.
“They’re good Jedi, some of the best,” Captain Rex replied. I could barely distinguish his voice from the other clones and only because of the quiet confidence with which he’d always spoken. I wondered if he’d grown out of a tube speaking with authority.
“I’ve heard stories,” said the young voice, so quietly that I unintentionally leaned back to hear better. “That the Jedi are brave and strong, but I’ve never seen it.”
“When you get off this planet,” said another clone whose identity I couldn’t discern from the voice, “you’ll probably see it every day.”
“Especially if you serve alongside Generals Kenobi, Skywalker, and Y/L/N.”
Me?
I sat there, stunned. To be included with Obi-Wan and Skywalker…
“General Y/L/N saved me once,” said that same voice of Jango Fett, and I only just refrained from whipping my head around to see which clone it was. Instead, I stayed, waiting for the clone to continue. “It was on Umbara.”
Murmurs went through the group, and something deep within me shuddered. My old master’s final stand.
“Krell?” Rex asked.
“Yeah,” said the voice heavily. “After he ordered the full strike on the airbase.”
In the following moment of silence, I could feel their pain over the losses caused by Krell as distinctly as I felt my own.
I shut my eyes, remembering how Krell had spoken over Rex, completely ignoring his concerns. Guilt swirled in my gut. I’d wanted to say something to my master to change his mind, but I’d been so afraid, I stayed silent as Krell sent the clones into the ravine. Those lives were on me for my negligence as much as on Krell for his cruelty.
“She saved my life on Umbara too,” Rex said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“And me,” said another clone.
“How?” asked the young voice.
“She dragged me out of the ravine when my leg was broken.”
“I was exposed, and she defended me long enough for both of us to take cover.”
The young voice made an impressed sound. “What about you, Captain Rex?”
I heard the dull thunk of clone trooper armor and pictured Rex setting down his helmet. Or had he simply shifted his foot against the ground? “When I rallied the 212th and 501st against Krell, he ran off to the forest. We went after him, and he suddenly came down from the trees.” The long breath Rex let out seemed to rattle in my own chest. “He wasn’t even using his sabers, just…started throwing us around with his bare hands.”
“That’s when he broke a clone’s back, right?”
My own back flared sympathetically as I remembered the great crack the clone’s spine had made.
“Yeah,” said Rex. “Never seen a Besalisk with that much strength. That was when General Y/L/N drew her saber.”
I shook my head in spite of myself. I’d barely exchanged five blows with Krell before he overpowered me.
“If she hadn’t occupied him, Tup never would’ve been able to stun Krell, and I think he would’ve killed all the clones on Umbara that day.”
“He would’ve killed the entire planet.”
Just the planet? Having seen my old master near his end, he had enough hatred to poison an entire system’s worth of planets.
The young clone’s voice broke through my gloom. “I’m glad he’s dead.” Murmurs of agreement went through the group, and I gave a short nod. “And I hope his ghost is stuck in a tree.”
The clones all laughed, but the idea of any piece of Krell living on made me feel nauseous. It was bad enough that some of his practices were still ingrained in my mind. I wanted all traces of him gone from the galaxy for good.
“How’s this?” Ghon’s voice broke through my listening and I looked to see his stance.
“Keep your grip looser,” Skywalker advised. “Getting too stiff’s not gonna help.”
“But hold on tight,” Obi-Wan said with a meaningful glance at Skywalker. “Don’t want to end up facing a changeling assassin with no saber. Or angry Geonosians. Or a sith.”
“Alright, alright, we get it,” Skywalker said as Ghon adjusted.
I frowned. Losing one’s saber was a rookie move and one that still stung from the day’s earlier conflict. What was worse: the fact that I’d lost my saber or that Ghon risked himself to return it to me?
You need to eat.
I glanced over at Obi-Wan. His expression was neutrally aimed at the fire, but I would’ve bet money as a Jedi I didn't have that he was worrying.
It’s been months since Dooku had me, I’m not wasting away.
He did not meet my gaze. People subjected to starvation become more vulnerable to future food shortages.
I looked down at the cubes in my hand, a sudden lump in my throat. Did you research that?
Obi-Wan did not answer, which was answer enough. I scrunched my nose, desperately trying not to allow tears to well in my eyes. How about for every cube you eat, I’ll eat?
Deal. Still not looking in my direction, Obi-Wan lifted one cube up, as if inspecting it. Do you want a countdown?
You’re already one behind.
His eyes snapped to the three cubes in my palm, then searched the ground around me. You didn’t just toss it where I couldn’t see it?
Don’t you trust me?
Not when it comes to ration cubes.
I only just held in my laugh. Instead, I recalled the memory of eating the cube moments ago, knowing that he could see it.
Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to the cube between his fingers, the unmistakable expression of nausea on his face. Then, his hand moving painfully slow, he brought his first cube to his mouth, and his disgust surged so powerfully, I nearly gagged. Your nausea is making it harder for me.
Sorry.
I felt the sudden distance through the Force as he tried to keep his feelings to himself. It gave me enough space to bring my next cube to my mouth, and Obi-Wan mirrored me. Together we chewed with the solemnity of a murder trial, and as I tried to swallow, I wished I were the victim.
I grimaced. I think I’d rather be tortured.
His head jerked in my direction and at the last second, he kept his head moving as if glancing over his shoulder had been his goal the whole time. That’s not funny. Images of Dooku flashed through my mind, and I wasn’t quite sure if they were his or mine.
I’m right in front of you, I’m fine. Relax.
Obi-Wan slowly placed another cube on his tongue and chewed with the hostility that arose when he pictured Dooku’s face. I was his prisoner once, you know. He didn’t torture me, he just sentenced me to die. He treated me with more honor than he treated you.
I matched his third cube. He didn’t derive pleasure from it. He actually hated doing it, I could feel that. But his desire for power was greater than his hatred.
Apparently not with me.
With Obi-Wan’s distance from the Force to protect me from his nausea, I might not have felt his anger if it wasn’t laced within his words. Knowing you, he thought you were incorruptible.
Obi-Wan pursed his lips. I don't know why he would've thought that of me and not of you.
I was already fighting a grin as I said, it’s my darkness.
Obi-Wan let out a large sigh, audible from the other side of the circle, and I fought to keep a straight face.
“Something wrong, sir?” Captain Rex asked him as he joined our group. He looked calm and professional, as if he hadn’t just been telling stories about the greatest trooper terrorizer of the Clone Wars.
“I can’t eat anymore,” Obi-Wan said out loud, studying the final cube. “Something spoiled my appetite.”
“I’ll eat it,” Ghon piped up, already holding out his hand for the cube. Obi-Wan surrendered it with gladness.
“Don’t eat too many of those,” Captain Rex warned. “One of my men ate eight cubes on a dare and nearly sleep-walked off a cliff.”
“He’s a growing boy.” I ruffled his hair. “He probably has another growth spurt coming.”
-
I awoke from my sleep with a start and sat up, blinking away images of Dooku’s face offset from the darkness of the dungeon on Neftali. Trying to banish the images, I focused on the fake flickering of the camplight. The quiet sounds and movements of many sleeping bodies was like almost every other night I’d spent in this war. If I hadn’t known I was indoors, I would’ve assumed I was sleeping outside like on Rishii or Felucia.
Glancing over at my padawan, I noted the sprawl of his limbs and the soft snoring. Skywalker’s position wasn’t quite so haphazard, but he too looked dead to the world.
But Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen.
Where are you? I asked with a yawn. There was no response. He wasn’t sleeping, I could feel that. Do you want to be alone?
Up on the balcony, came the answer.
You forget, I groused, I haven’t been on this planet as long as you.
A little glow of amusement came from somewhere above my head. Take the stairs up two flights and take a left.
Stepping delicately, I walked around Skywalker’s head and over Captain Rex’s feet to reach the edges of the room. Why are you awake? Obi-Wan didn’t answer, and I gave him time as I climbed the stairs. But then when I reached the top of the first flight, the silence started to eat at me. Is something wrong?
There was a slight whoosh through Obi-Wan’s Force signature, and I cocked my head. Did he just let out a sigh?
You’re incredibly distracting.
A slow smile spread on my face as I sped up, wanting to see his face. Am I? How so?
You can’t expect me to lay down five feet away from you and not touch you.
Somehow I don’t think that would escape Skywalker’s notice.
Somehow I don’t think Anakin would mind much.
Turning the corner, I caught sight of a clear door leading out onto a covered balcony. Obi-Wan leaned against the railing, already looking through the door at me. As soon as I pushed the door open, the sound of the rain pelting everything in sight filled my ears.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “About Skywalker?”
Obi-Wan shook his head lightly, already reaching out for me. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
Speaking words aloud was a luxury. Speaking with our minds was a testament to our connection, but the safety of using our voices was incredible.
I allowed him to pull me close, resting my head on his shoulder. He started to sway gently as if to rock me to sleep. “Why are you awake?” he asked.
I held tighter to Obi-Wan. “Awoke and couldn’t get back to sleep,” I lied. Dooku haunted Obi-Wan too much already, I wasn’t about to add to that.
Obi-Wan hummed, the rumble in his chest a pleasant sensation against my cheek. His hands, which had been resting on my back, started to wander up my torso with the intensity of an explorer. “You’re thin,” he noted before running his fingers up my neck, not unlike the way I’d examined the Kamionan female. “And tense.”
“So are you.” I pulled back enough to tap just beneath his hairline. “You hold all your tension right here.”
He lifted his eyebrows, wrinkling the skin of his forehead, making me laugh. His returning smile was so warm, it made my chest hurt. Stars, but I hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long, and his joy had a funny way of multiplying within me. His hands pulled back from my shoulders to encircle my wrists. “You still wrap them.”
“That’s not a question,” I replied, tilting my head at him.
He didn’t look playful as his gaze lifted from the wraps to my face. “Do they still cause you pain?”
“Stop worrying, I’m fine.”
“Do they?” he repeated.
I sighed. “Yes, they still hurt. It’s worse here because of the rain.”
Obi-Wan glanced out at the stormy clouds and waves, looking irritated. Even as he glared, his profile was statuesque with the prominence of his nose and the softness of his lips. Perhaps he was angry at Kamino for the rain, but I thought of the Kaminoan couple. The lights they’d made for each other were all the more precious because of the stormy darkness of Kamino.
I couldn’t help it—I reached up to touch Obi-Wan’s beard. I would’ve felt embarrassed, but Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut while a warm glow radiated from his Force signature.
“You’re my light,” I murmured.
His eyes opened, his eyebrows lowering in confusion. “What?”
“When I feel you through the Force,” I moved my hand through the hair leading up his jaw, “I feel light.”
Something pure and jovial enveloped me like a blanket. Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound a wash of heat warming me down to my toes. “And yet I would follow you through the dark.”
“You did follow me through the dark. And you pulled me out.”
He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm with an adoration capable of knocking the air from my lungs. “You pull me out of the darkness every day.”
I laughed, withdrawing my hands, but Obi-Wan just wrapped his arm around my back to hold me in place. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, mirth dancing in his voice.
“I’m laughing at us, because we’re spouting poetry in the middle of a war.”
“Poets like war.” Obi-Wan leaned in to press his forehead to mine. “Gives them something to write about.”
I pulled back ever so slightly, strangely enjoying the brief disappointment on his face. “I thought poets wrote about love.”
“They’re basically the same,” he muttered. “Both make you feel insane.”
“And nauseous,” I added brightly.
The corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth turned up, but it was halfhearted. His eyes had dipped down, and he was leaning closer than he had a moment before.
My heart skipped a beat.
Why was he looking at me like that? He’d never looked at me like that before.
Oh I have. I could hear the smile in his voice, but it wasn’t on his face. Just not when you’ve been paying attention.
He leaned in until he was so close that I went cross-eyed trying to see him.
Was…was he going to kiss me?
Was I going to let him?
I hadn’t decided on either point when a quiet flash in my mind made me pause. “Wait.” I pulled out of Obi-Wan’s embrace, staring unseeing through the glass door.
Something was wrong.
I felt the rush of fear before I heard the scream.
Instantly I broke from Obi-Wan’s embrace, sprinting for the stairs.
Where are you going?
Ghon!
I didn’t bother to explain any further as I whipped down the stairs and through the hallway. When I reached the room, I had to duck around clones in various states of bleariness and confusion until I saw Ghon where I left him.
Rex knelt beside my padawan, trying to wake him.
“Stop!” Ghon cried, the shout ripping from his throat. “Don’t hurt her!”
“It’s his mother and sister,” I said to whoever was listening, my heart aching more than my knees as I fell on them. “Wake up!” I cried as I shook his shoulder.
One of Ghon’s arms flailed right towards my face, and I caught it, holding it tightly. “Ghon!”
Ghon’s eyes finally opened, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes wildly searching.
“You’re alright,” I soothed. “You’re safe.”
His eyes locked on mine. I brushed my hand over his forehead where his hair was stuck with sweat. “It was a dream.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was tiny and quiet.
I pulled him in close. “It’s okay.” Rubbing his back, I hummed a tune one of the Rishii had sung just before sleeping every night. Ghon’s body lay tense on his bedroll for long enough for me to have to stifle a yawn of my own, but eventually his eyes fluttered shut and his body relaxed.
I remained, watching him as my hand—still on his back—rose and fell with his breaths. It hurt to see the memories that plagued him. He carried burdens heavier than most, burdens not meant for the young.
A surge of protectiveness shot through me, and I quickly withdrew my hand. Time to leave him be.
I joined the group at the one fake campfire still alight. I settled myself beside Obi-Wan. Maybe the clones would think it forward, but I needed his touch, even if it was just the brush of our arms and knees.
“Is the boy alright?” Obi-Wan asked. He did not look at me, but I could feel the concern he was trying to conceal in front of Skywalker and the clones.
I let out a sigh. “Physically, yes.” I looked around the group. “I apologize that he woke you all. I hope no one thought it was an attack.”
“You said it was his mother and sister?” Rex asked.
I nodded. “He lost them in a massacre. He’s one of the only survivors of his home planet.”
A loaded silence fell, punctuated by a quiet hum emitted by the device in the center of our group.
“Losing his mother will be a scar he carries for his whole life.” Skywalker was staring hard at the fake campfire light, but it wasn’t just the light that was reflected in his eyes.
“We’re all scarred by something or another,” I murmured. “I just wish Ghon wasn’t haunted quite so much.”
Captain Rex clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Your padawan will overcome.”
I gave him a soft smile. “Especially if he has the support I did.”
Rex’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he ducked his head.
Obi-Wan’s confusion hit me through the Force in full. What are the two of you talking about?
I stared at the flickering light. There was a lot Obi-Wan and I shared. As master and padawan, we shared so much time and so many experiences, we practically breathed in the same breaths.
Yet there were some stories I didn’t want to tell him. Sharing them hurt sometimes, and Obi-Wan carried too much of my pain already.
But his unparalleled determination would uncover the truth eventually. Captain Rex had never been able to overcome Obi-Wan's tenacity; he would tell Obi-Wan sooner than Obi-Wan would give up asking. Obi-Wan might as well hear it from me. I had bad nightmares too. Whenever Rex and I were at the same camp, he’d take the night watch so that when I woke…I had someone to talk to.
When you were Krell’s padawan?
I shifted uncomfortably. Yes. And when I was yours.
His light blazed, and Skywalker glanced over at Obi-Wan with a puzzled enough expression that I instinctively leaned away from Obi-Wan. You were having nightmares and you never told me?
I couldn’t look at him, shame heating my cheeks.
Is that why you couldn’t sleep tonight? he pressed.
I turned away, pretending to glance at my padawan who was thankfully still sleeping.
Y/N. There was enough heat in my name that I gathered the courage to peek at his lowered brows and pursed lips. Why didn’t you tell me?
I tried to figure out how to explain the shame that was tightly coiled in my chest. I thought I was weak for being so...bothered. I wasn’t in real danger, and I wasn’t in pain from a real injury. They were just dreams.
Obi-Wan’s disapproval settled into my shoulders like muscle aches. The fear was real. And you didn't have to face it alone.
Krell would've flayed me alive for complaining about such a thing.
But I would've helped you.
I dared to move my knee far enough to bump his. I know that now. His light calmed marginally, but I could still feel his discontent. It’s alright, I don’t have them near as much as I used to.
Obi-Wan’s signature burned too brightly to have been comforted by my words. I wish I could bear them for you.
My chest warmed. And that in and of itself makes the burden lighter.
-
The morning brought a break in the storm and news from the council that Ghon and I were to return to Rishii before nightfall. Out of us four Jedi that spoke with the council, none of us received the news ambivalently. Ghon’s shoulders slumped. Skywalker glanced at me. Obi-Wan’s light burned so low, it was a good thing the council was too far to sense it.
After the meeting, Obi-Wan walked towards me, but I turned to Ghon. “Shall we check the provisions on our ship?”
My padawan didn’t have a chance to nod before I ushered him out of the comm room.
It was hard enough to feel my own despair. I didn’t deal with it well, allowing Ghon to take stock of our supplies on the ship. Once the check was done, Ghon and I sat out on the dry platform and observed the waves. After my final check in the infirmary, we would leave.
I could feel Obi-Wan’s presence at my back. I hoped he was doing something more covert than just staring at us. Better yet, I hoped he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. The lingering shame of my nightmares still burned.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked my padawan as I ate a ration cube.
Ghon twitched in a way that could’ve been affirmative.
I shifted my gaze to the dome covered with soot, squinting in the light of the sun. It was a very weak sun compared to Rishii’s sun, but it still burned my eyes after days of darkness. “Maybe if you talk about them,” I offered him my last ration cube, wishing it were chocolate cake instead, “we can work out what’s bothering you.”
Ghon waved his hand, declining my cube. “Master Yoda already tried.” He sounded tired, and I knew it went deeper than missing a good night’s sleep. Nightmares, whatever they were about, had a way of eating into one’s soul until it felt grotty enough to only be good for Jawas.
I looked up at the sky, trying to recall the most comforting things Rex had said. The right words could reassure Ghon and make him open up while the wrong ones would make him retreat into and lash out on himself.
“My nightmares,” I said slowly, “were always about my old master.” I wasn’t looking at my padawan, but I felt his Force signature still as he listened. “He used to hurt me. Tell me I wouldn’t ever be a good enough Jedi. Ignore me until I did something he approved of.”
Another, brighter Force signature behind me stilled as well, and I pursed my lips. I’d said too much, and now Obi-Wan was listening.
“What did he approve of?” Ghon asked quietly. He wasn’t sharing yet, but he was engaging, which had to be a good sign.
“Cruelty, either towards the clones or myself.”
“Cruelty to yourself?” Ghon echoed, and the light behind me flared.
“Yes,” I said with difficulty. “He liked it when I told him all my mistakes. Sometimes…if he’d been ignoring me for longer than a day…I would skip my dinner. Or take the night watch twice in a row or train until I was too sore and bruised to walk.” The pain shining from behind me made it so difficult to focus, I withdrew from the Force to quiet my mind. This was about Ghon, not me nor Obi-Wan.
“Why would he do that?” Ghon asked.
“There’s a lot of reasons people do awful things, Ghon, you know that just as well as I do.”
“But he was a Jedi.” Ghon’s face was tense. “Jedi shouldn’t do awful things.” He’d started pulling at a loose thread in his cloak, wrapping it tightly around his thumb until the tip of it turned purple.
I nodded. “You’re right. We shouldn’t.” There was a long silence while he gave a hard yank on the thread until it was long enough to twist between all the fingers of his right hand. “What are your dreams about, Ghon?”
“A lot of different things,” he hedged.
I waited patiently. If he didn’t share, I would simply tell him to spend the morning with Skywalker while I ran the med bay.
“It used to be…” He unraveled the thread, wrapping it around his pinkie this time. “Sometimes it was about home.”
My heart ached. “About your family?”
He nodded, a sort of unstable bob. “But now they’re about the future.”
Obi-Wan’s dusty and distraught face in the Archives flashed in my mind, my own premonition just before the attack on the temple. “When you’re a Jedi Knight?” I asked.
He nodded again, turning his face away from me so that I barely caught his next words. “Sometimes they’re about you.”
That was not what I had been expecting, and I worked to keep my voice level. “What about me?”
Ghon got to his feet. “Can I go see what Master Skywalker is doing?”
“Ghon.” I rose on shaky knees. “What do I do in these dreams?” His eyes were trained on the ground, his head hanging, and he did not answer. “Ghon, I promise you, I will never hate you.”
He let out a little sound that was not quite amused but not sad either. “That’s not it.”
“I will never hurt you either.” He shook his head, and I reached out to place my hands on his shoulders. “Ghon. Say it.”
“You die.” He lifted his head up, and the sight of his watery eyes sent another shock through me. “Over and over.”
My jaw dropped, and all I could do was stare at this precious, hurting boy.
Were these dreams the product of a troubled mind? Or was the Force trying to tell him something?
“Kid, you ready to spar?” Skywalker popped up from seemingly nowhere, scaring me enough that I released Ghon.
“Yeah,” he said and immediately followed Anakin without glancing back at me.
My head spun so wildly, it felt as though the platform underneath my feet tipped back and forth dangerously.
He dreamed about losing me.
Don’t hurt her, he’d cried when I’d tried to wake him up.
He risked himself in battle to make sure I had my weapon.
He made sure I always ate my ration cubes.
“Are you alright, sir?”
I blinked hard, staring at the clone who’d interrupted my thoughts. “Yes,” I said, but my tone was too uncertain. “Excuse me, I’m needed in the med bay.”
I hurried through the corridors, trying to put as much distance between me and my padawan as I could before the feelings welled up too high. With every thundering beat of my heart, I couldn’t stop the whirling of my thoughts.
I’d failed my padawan.
I’d never discouraged his reliance, so sure that giving him the support that he’d never received would help heal him and let him stand on his own feet. But now the idea of losing me tormented him.
That was what had been modeled for him. It’s what I’d modeled for him.
Stars, what had I done?
I burst into the med bay, and thankfully it was empty enough that neither the Kaminoan or the clones gave me anything more than a cursory nod as I walked to the adjoining room.
In the whisper of the door sliding shut behind me, I allowed it all to crash over me. Tears streamed down my face as I braced my hands against the wall.
“Y/N?”
Obi-Wan’s voice made me cringe, and then his hand on my shoulder made me shudder and pull away.
“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan stood in front of me, eyes full of concern. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve failed,” I said faintly. Or did it just sound faint over the roaring of my ears? The roaring of the knowledge that I had failed at the thing I devoted my life to?
“What?”
“I’m a bad Jedi.”
His lips moved quickly, but I couldn’t hear him. He tried to touch my cheek, but I pulled away from him again, pressing my hands to my face. I needed to say something, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t see–
Breathe.
I immediately sucked in a breath.
Let it out.
I did so, the exhale catching on the knot in my throat several times.
Again.
The voice was Obi-Wan’s.
Let it out.
I blinked, slowly registering that my hands were over my face.
Again.
My fingers were tingling strangely. I peeled my fingers away, blinking at Obi-Wan. When did we sit down?
Let it out.
“I’m okay,” I managed to say.
“No, you’re not.” Obi-Wan tentatively reached out, and I allowed him to take my fingers—which were still tingling—in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears again. “I’ve failed Ghon.”
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you saying such a thing?”
“His nightmares–”
Breathe. You’re getting yourself worked up again.
I obeyed, taking a deep breath.
“You can’t control his nightmares,” Obi-Wan said softly. “No one can, you know that.”
“They’re about me!” I clapped my hand over my mouth, terrified that the clones would hear. Would they think me just as incompetent as I now knew myself to be?
Obi-Wan’s eyes shone with concern as he cradled my face. “He cares about you, that’s not a bad thing.”
I shook my head, looking desperately up into Obi-Wan’s face. “He fears losing me.”
“He almost did, Y/N, it’s not that uncommon–”
Gripping Obi-Wan’s arms as best I could without the full sensation of my fingers, I tugged. “No, Obi-Wan, he dreams of me dying. He fears losing me above everything else, that’s why he risked himself to get my lightsaber yesterday!”
“Padawans protect their masters,” Obi-Wan argued. “If I had to tell you all the times Anakin saved my life–”
“He risked himself for me. He’s overly attached to me.”
“That’s not necessarily–”
“It is my fault!” I burst out. “And it’s because I’m crossing one of the most important parts of the Code!”
Obi-Wan’s expression shuttered, and even though he looked pained, he didn’t pull away. “What are you saying?” His too-calm tone didn’t soothe the way it ordinarily might’ve.
“If…if it was between finishing a mission and saving Ghon…I don’t think I could prioritize the mission.” Another tear welled up in my eye and fell.
“Honey,” Obi-Wan said in a tone far too light, “he’s your responsibility, of course you want to protect him.”
I looked up at his face. “But you’re not my padawan…and I’d choose to protect you too.”
His light cracked and popped like the embers of a home fire. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. “What kind of Jedi does that make me? What kind of teacher am I if that’s what I model for my padawan?”
Obi-Wan’s face fell. Did he also feel bad? Was he wondering what he had modeled for Skywalker? I realized I still clung to Obi-Wan and loosened my grip. But instead of letting me go, Obi-Wan gently brought my hands to the rough tunic covering his chest.
Do you feel the Force? he asked. When you’re with me?
I furrowed my brows and nodded.
This does not remove us from it. The Force is with us.
I slowly shook my head, unable to feel the comfort he tried to impart. “The Force is with Dooku. It was with Krell. Feeling the Force doesn’t mean we are good.”
Obi-Wan’s light whooshed as if I’d hit him squarely in the chest as hard as I could. He let go of my hands and stepped back. “Do you…want this to end?”
Almost instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him, pressing every part of my body into him in the hopes that I could imprint the pounding feelings of my heart onto his. No. Without you, I have nothing.
Jedi were supposed to have nothing.
As Obi-Wan had said back on Taris, this is what we were made for.
I buried my face into his chest, thankful Obi-Wan seemed as reluctant to let me go as I was to stand on my own two feet. For several long moments, neither of us said anything.
Krell fell to the dark side when he started prioritizing his own thoughts and beliefs over the ways of the Jedi. And though feeling the way I felt for Obi-Wan seemed like a beautiful, harmless thing…we followed the Jedi Code for a reason, so our power was never abused.
I could not allow myself or Obi-Wan to fall to the dark side.
“I don’t want to stop this,” I said finally, pulling away enough to glimpse Obi-Wan’s stony expression. “But if we keep doing this, we can’t let it get in the way. We have to give each other permission to prioritize the Order.”
Was it my imagination, or did the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth turn down? I want to agree.
You…want to?
He nodded, obviously frowning now. I don’t know if I can…I can’t just give a part of me. His lips pursed, and I felt his disappointment without knowing if it was aimed at me or himself or even just the whole galaxy. I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to explain it.
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, but I shamefully couldn’t think of anything to say. The idea that Obi-Wan might choose me over our way of life…it was tantalizing.
And so unbelievably selfish. The choice I was so afraid of us making…I wanted us to make it.
We both do our duties. The Republic has our bodies and our sabers for its cause. Obi-Wan’s eyes bore into mine, the beautiful blue zinging me somewhere in my stomach. Do we owe it our hearts as well?
I wished I had the right answer or even any answer. But all I could offer was, I don’t know.
Obi-Wan sighed. Me either. Our collective unhappiness filled the space, rank and rotten through the Force.
I wish we were free.
The sudden words ricocheted from some part deeper than my mind, and Obi-Wan and I were both so shocked by it, we pulled away from each other.
Freedom?
We weren’t slaves, starving and mistreated. With our great capabilities and positions, we had no cause for unrest like the millions, billions in the galaxy who were experiencing cruelty and injustice.
And yet…
Obi-Wan caressed my face with his calloused hands and desperation, his red-rimmed eyes bringing tears to my own. I can’t breathe without you.
How could a statement, so simple and unadorned, nearly bring me to my knees?
When I'm not with you, all I do is wish you were with me, I replied. And that wishing…makes me so sure of how I feel for you.
Obi-Wan thickly cleared his throat, his brows furrowing. “I have been wrestling for months…feeling so resolved one moment and so guilty the next.” He took a long breath and let it out, and I could feel it on my face. “But now I’ve decided.”
“Decided what?” I asked, both fearing and craving the answer.
Whatever happens and however long it takes…it’s you.
My hands started to shake.
The absolute conviction in his words could not be questioned, even as my doubts assailed me. We did not know when we would next see each other. We did not know if we would stay alive long enough to even see each other. And if we did, there was no guarantee that we would both survive this war.
But as I looked into Obi-Wan’s earnest eyes, my own filled with tears.
Obi-Wan brushed them away like it was his solemn duty. Someday, the duties of my heart and my body will be reunited. And on that day, I will fulfill the promise I’m ready to make.
“I’m not,” I blurted. “I’m not ready.” My cheeks immediately grew hot, and I tried to look away, but Obi-Wan caught my chin.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his grip endlessly tender. “I can wait.”
-
Double Seven’s wound was healing better than I could have hoped. “Look at that,” I said in awe as I peeled back the regeneration pad. Just because I knew how the regeneration pad worked didn’t mean it didn’t feel like a miracle.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Double Seven noted with surprise.
I finished pulling the pad off, smiling at the brand new skin covering his chest. “Not bad, Double Seven, if I do say so myself.”
His eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “Double Seven?”
“Oh.” I blushed. “Sorry, CT-4877.”
The confusion cleared way for a wondrous smile. “Is that…my nickname?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be,” I assured him. “You could just be Double or something completely different.”
“I like Double.” He cocked his head, suddenly regarding me with amazement similar to mine for the regeneration pad. “So the Jedi really do give clones nicknames.”
I wiped down his chest with disinfectant; infection of newly generated skin was awful and could be deadly. “Everyone deserves their own name.”
“Master.” Ghon stood in the door of the med bay. “It’s time to go.”
Dread hit me like a blow. I nodded, trying to conceal my disappointment as I squeezed Double’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
“Yes, General.”
I bid the rest of the clones farewell and walked with Ghon to our ship, my footfalls heavy. Where are you? I couldn’t leave without bidding him goodbye.
Waiting.
Sure enough, when we reached the double doors that lead to our ship, Obi-Wan and Skywalker were waiting. Neither were smiling.
“Thank you for all the sparring!” Ghon said brightly to Skywalker.
Skywalker grinned then, a completely warranted response to my padawan, I thought. “Keep practicing, and you’ll be better than Obi-Wan in no time.”
Obi-Wan chuckled, and despite the sadness permeating his Force signature, the chuckle sounded genuine. Judging by Skywalker’s glance, however, he wasn’t buying it.
“He’s already better than me.” I smiled at Ghon, feeling unsquashable affection.
“That’s the hope of every master,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “That his padawans will be better than himself.”
Skywalker and I shared a glance, and I could feel my reaction echoed in him. Us, better than Obi-Wan? Better than the best Jedi we knew?
Obi-Wan seemed to shake off his musings. “Thank you both for your assistance. Knight Y/L/N, your healing expertise was invaluable."
I gave a warning look. “Make sure those in the med bay aren’t released too soon, no matter how stubborn they are.”
When Obi-Wan only grimaced, Skywalker saluted. “Will do.”
Ghon bowed and pulled his hood over his head before walking out the doors.
“May the Force be with you,” Skywalker said to me before turning and leaving Obi-Wan and I by the doors. I watched him go, wondering what reason he had for giving Obi-Wan and I a moment alone. Then I dragged my gaze to face the impassive expression of Obi-Wan.
“May the Force be with you,” I said softly, giving a little bow.
Obi-Wan lifted his chin, and I envied his ability to hide the pain I knew he was feeling. “And with you.”
I turned away. Until next time, be safe, Obi-Wan. The rain pelted against my hood as I strode towards our ship.I don't know when I will see you next, said Obi-Wan, the hum of light in every word. But I promise I will remain yours until then and after then.
Summary: Rhysand is leaving the pack for good, and Luna asks him to meet her in the woods in one last attempt to make him stay. (He doesn’t).
A/N: This is part of my shifter!ACOTAR fics (but i changed the direction i was going in my ideas post). This is a mini prequel to my Rhysand wip— I just wanted to write this for some reason lmao. It is A for Angst (diet angst) And it's very short
Leaving her behind was one of the hardest things he ever did. And in the next years, every single time he'd look up at the moon, he'd remember the single tear that fell down her cheek as he turned away.
Luna's eyes prick with tears and she balls her fists tight, nails digging into the flesh of her palms, to stop herself from crying. You will not cry. No matter what you will not cry. You don’t need yet another thing to remind Rhysand that you are barely past your pup years. She repeats the words in her head until she believes them. At fourteen she should already be well acquainted with her wolf, running with the pack on full moon nights, and not crying when she doesn't get her way. But this is so much more than that.
She shakes her head, focusing on her wolf instead of the storm raging in her heart. She feels a flicker as her wolf makes herself known (somewhat), and she grits her teeth, trying to draw her out fully. The snap of a twig behind her pulls her from her thoughts and she turns to find Rhysand standing there, leaning on a tree. She knows for a fact that he made the noise on purpose, so she’d hear him— he was probably standing there for a while. But she lifts her chin, unwilling to show that he had (once again) caught her off guard.
“What is it, Little Wolf?” He asks, looking down at his foot as he kicks a rock.
The way his voice has gone from the softness of pup to the deep and cold growl of a young male has Luna's stomach clenching. At 16– he’s only a couple of years older than her— he already carries himself like an adult male. And she supposes he has to, seeing as how his father has been pushing him towards becoming alpha his whole life. Rhysand has never had his sights set on being alpha, though. And suddenly, as she tilts her head up to look him in the eye, the two years he has on her feel like an entire world of difference.
“I—” she cuts herself off. What was she going to say? What is there to say? Ask him to stay? Ask him to take her with him?
“No, Luna.” His answer is curt, matter-of-fact, almost as if he somehow heard her inner thoughts and is responding instinctively.
His immediate reply stings, and she looks down at her nails to try and hide the pain that surely flashed in her eyes. You will not cry.
She sighs, feigning nonchalance, and glances up at him through her lashes. “You’re mistaken.” Her voice doesn’t shake and she internally sighs in relief.
He smiles, and it's so sad she feels sick. “Luna,” Her name falls from his lips and it’s like a caress. “You’re still…” His eyebrows draw together and she digs her nails into her palms once again, already knowing what he’s going to say. “You’re still a pup. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I could understand if you’d just talk to me, Rhys.” The words burst out of her and she wishes she hadn’t sounded so whiny, but her vision is becoming blurry, and she is slowly losing her composure.
He shakes his head slowly, looking down at his shoes for a moment before looking up at her again. "One day it'll make sense, I promise. There is just so much you don't know, and honestly it's for the best."
"That makes no sense." She puts as much anger into her words as she can, but it does little to hide the way her heart is shattering.
There's a small part of her— one she's always tried to hide— that has dared to believe that once they both grew up, their mate bond with Rhys would fall into place. She imagined a life of running in the woods together— at first just the two of them and then the pups that would inevitably follow. She spent her entire childhood trying to hide the fact that she looked at him like he'd hung the moon. And now, as she stands under the light of a full moon with him, she sees the future she's always imagined disappear into nothing.
"I have to go, Luna. I—" He takes a step towards her as he speaks, and she takes a step back, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
She closes her eyes tight for a few seconds before looking back up into his violet eyes. "So this is goodbye?" Her voice cracks but she's way past the point of caring about it.
He holds her eyes, skimming her face as if he were trying to memorize it, and it is a long moment before he speaks. "I wish it didn't have to be, Little Wolf." She's sure she imagines the way his voice is slightly unsteady, and the way his hands seem to shake at his sides.
He reaches for her one more time and she takes a small step away. His hand falls to his side, and he looks behind him as a faint howl sounds in the distance. He doesn't need to say it, she can see the words in his troubled eyes. I have to go now. His eyes search hers for a few more seconds before he turns on his heel and runs into the forest.
Luna stares at the moon for a long while— so long that she somehow finds herself curled up on the exposed root of a tree, Cassian gently shaking her shoulder to wake her. She blinks slowly, reaching up with a hand to touch the spot on her chest that somehow feels hollow now.
"I know," Cassian murmurs, lifting her off the ground and cradling her to his chest as he carries her back home.
The first two chapters of the fic I put together for the @stobinminibang are live! I hope you enjoy "A Game Of Chicken With The Universe" as much as I enjoyed putting it together. This is a prequel fic to my "Quit, Commit, See If We'd Fit" which, obviously, focuses on Steve and Robin and their friendship over the years before that universe takes place (with a little bonus chapter at the end that'll connect the two.
Thank you to my teammate @adesa-arts for the banner art, to @starthecozy, @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx, and @hbyrde36 for having my back and keeping me on the path to getting this done and all the soundboarding that entailed, and to @cool-island-songs for betaing for me!
I hope you enjoy the extension of this universe! It's already completed, and I plan on updating every other day or so.
The knife was in Lucanis's hand before he was even fully awake. He swung at the shadow looming over him, but it blocked his forearm at the last moment. He jabbed with his other fist, which connected with the shadow's middle. It let out a grunt and then a startled yelp as it fell backward over the footstool that Lucanis used to reach the ties for the curtains around his bed.
With an annoyed sigh and a pounding heart, Lucanis flopped back against the mattress. He tucked the knife back under his pillow before rolling over to glare at his cousin sprawled on the floor.
"What do you want, Illario?" he demanded.
His eyes had adjusted enough that he could make out the other boy's shape. Instead of answering, Illario kept his head down and his eyes on the floor.
His silence did not improve Lucanis's mood. "It's just a dream," he snapped. "Go back to bed."
"It's not just a dream," Illario mumbled mulishly, though he still didn't meet Lucanis's eyes. "It happened."
"A long time ago," Lucanis retorted. "If you stopped thinking about it so much, you wouldn't dream about it."
Another moment of silence passed. Illario sniffed and covered his eyes with his elbow.
"Can I stay?" he asked. It was muffled by his pajama sleeve.
Lucanis lay down again with a groan. They were getting too old for this. He was already ten. Illario would be soon. They weren't kids anymore.
But he knew that if he refused, Illario wouldn't sleep the rest of the night. He'd be slow-witted and heavy-limbed in training, and Nonna would punish them both. Internally Lucanis railed against the unfairness of it. Why should he go without supper because Illario failed to dodge a strike? He had protested out loud once—but only once.
When he didn't say anything, Illario curled up on the rug, taking his silence for the reluctant acquiescence it was. Lucanis closed his eyes and tried to focus on how comfortable and warm he was in his bed. It always took him ages to get back to sleep when Illario woke him. His cousin's presence was a reminder, a crack in a door in his mind that led to a room he never wanted to enter again.
"Do you think they'll ever come back?" Illario whispered.
Lucanis grabbed his extra pillow and turned on his side so he could hold it over his head. The tiny pocket of space it created made it easier to keep his breathing slow and even.
"They're dead."
"What if some of them escaped? We did."
Lucanis lifted his pillow enough to snort at his cousin. "Escaped from Nonna?"
"She's not perfect," Illario grumbled.
Lucanis laughed. "I dare you to say that to her face."
"I'm not stupid."
"Could have fooled me."
He laughed again when one of Illario's slippers hit the pillow over his head. He snatched it up and threw it back, only a little disappointed when Illario caught it deftly.
"You have to leave before Adelina comes to light the fire," Lucanis reminded his cousin. "Or she'll tell Nonna."
"I know," his cousin drawled, and Lucanis could hear him rolling his eyes.
"Close your eyes and sleep then."
For a few blessed moments, his room returned to its previous peaceful quiet. Lucanis settled into his little cocoon of pillows and started the breathing exercises that Heir had taught him to fight his insomnia.
Summary: Prequel to These Violent Delights. WC: 6.6k.
CW: dead dove don’t eat, Implied rape and SA, hurt/very little comfort, unethical experiments, a/b/o tropes (heats), a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of sex toys, medical inaccuracies, needles, menstrual cycle (period), description of abuse & sexual abuse, vomit.
Previous - masterlist - next
AO3
Enjoy <3
6 years later.
“Is it going to hurt?”
Piper looks up from the results she’s looking through. Another failed round of tests, another disappointment. Almost all the work she had done while Victor was away from the bunker had to be stripped back and tried again. It was a painstaking process that took many years, and more deaths.
“Is what going to hurt?” She asks.
“My period.” You reply from your spot on the sofa. Piper watches you blink up at her.
“It can hurt.” She says, the truth is it’s going to be hell on earth for a few days but telling you that will scare you and there is no need to scare you for something you’re already apprehensive about. You don’t say anything, you just nod and look back down at the book.
Piper looks back at her papers when suddenly there’s a knock at the door, your whole body tenses and you smell of your nerves fill the air. Piper resists projecting her scent, it’s not her place.
“Come in.” She calls hoping it will just be a scientist, but she knows better. The strong scent of Alpha fills the room and you’re already putting your book down and standing up, dropping the blanket you had wrapped around your waist.
Piper watches as Victor clenches his jaw.
“You shouldn’t be in here bothering Dr. Piper.” He says, you lower your head. Piper wants to tell him it's okay but there’s no point.
“Sorry.” You say, it’s barely audible. Victor steps up to you and grabs your chin tilting your head up to look at him. He hums before letting your face go.
“Go, wait for me in my office.” He says. You nod, squeezing your hands into fists and leaving the room. Piper bites her tongue, she knows he’ll want you to lay on his thigh, projecting your scent for him. He likes that. Or he’ll make you kneel next to him for hours, he likes that too, he likes to rub the back of your neck where his mark will eventually be.
“I saw you rejected a proposal for heat blockers.” Victor says. She presses her lips together and nods.
“Disrupting the natural cycle could be dangerous.” She says, she turns to look for the folder with the research she’s been doing. She didn’t expect him to be interested, besides it’s not like he wants your heats blocked. And when his come around he locks himself in his room for a week, Piper tries to check on him at least once but just like her, he has plans in place.
“You can block periods.” He says.
“Yes, technically but again, disrupting the natural cycle can have detrimental effects on physical and mental health.” She explains.
“Such as?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. She rests her hand on the folder.
“I think you should read the report I have written.” She offers. He hums and comes over to pick it up, flicking through it quickly.
“I want you to work on a heat blocker.” He says closing the folder and heading to leave. “I expect an update during the next weekly meeting.”
Piper sighs and sits back in her chair as he closes the door. She looks back over at where you were sitting. You like to read just like Vanessa did, you almost sit in the same way. You like being around Piper, during your first few years you barely left her side. Victor has changed too, he’s grown distant from Piper, everyone really. He only ever spends extended periods of time with you.
You are his omega, not hers. In the end Victor will claim you and there is nothing Piper can do to change that.
It’s all for the greater good.
…
A couple of days later your period hit.
16 is a little older to be starting your period but she’s pretty sure that is down to the formula messing with your system. She rubs your back as you vomit from the pain.
“You said it wouldn’t hurt.” You whimper as you lay back in the bed. Piper reaches over and presses a cool cloth against your forehead.
“It will be over soon.” Piper says standing up with the bucket and walks into the bathroom to flush the vomit down the toilet. When she comes back she sees you breathing heavily with your eyes closed. She puts the bucket down by the bed and sneaks out the room. She can hear Victor and someone talking in the observation room as soon as Piper walks in they stop.
“Her fever is increasing, I would like to try giving her some pain relief.” Piper says.
“No.” Victor says without turning from the one way mirror. Piper sighs and steps forward, cleaning her throat and looking at the other scientist. He seems to get the idea and he turns to leave.
“Professor.” She has not called him that in months. “I know you want to observe her unmedicated but-”
“You know how important it is for us to observe an omega’s first period. Medication could interfere with the results.” He turns to look at her. “You know this.”
“The pain is pushing her body, I don’t want to put more strain on it, her heart could start to struggle.” Piper says.
“Is it struggling now?” He asks, she wants to lie. She wants to lie so badly but she can’t, he has access to all her records and even if he doesn’t understand it won't take him long to google it or ask someone.
“No.”
“Then she gets nothing but fluids until anything changes.” He says, it’s an order.
“As her doctor I would recommend-” He turns holding his hand up to stop her.
“As her father. I will let you know when she needs your professional opinion. Until then the experiment will continue as normal.” He turns back to look out at you.
“Yes, Professor.” She says keeping her voice steady and she walks out and into your room. Your face is scrunched up, your hair is stuck to your face. Piper picks up the damp flannel out of the water on your bedside table and pats the top of your head. You wake blinking up at her.
“Just sleep hun, you’ll feel better soon.” Piper smiles, she needs to keep you calm and resting.
“I’ve been thinking about my mother:” You say, Piper smiles. That's good, you need something to keep you grounded. “She’s always baking. Cakes and pies.” You swallow and Piper keeps brushing your forehead.
“I used to live on a hill. I imagine her baking while I’m outside.” Piper smiles. It’s all fabricated, the memory you have of your mother was planted so you had something to hold onto, a memory to keep you grounded.
“It sounds lovely.” Piper says. Your eyes flutter close and you sigh.
“It was.”
Forty-eight hours later Hale let Piper give you some pain relief.
It takes a good few hours for your body to return to a relaxed state though, a few hours too long. She has to monitor you closely as well as keep any eye on your hydration. It’s exhausting work but Piper does it, she’s never going to leave your side.
She spends her time reading to you or massaging your hands, rubbing your back when you wake throwing up from the fever and pain. Even Victor got worried for a while, after 5 days your fever breaks and you start to come out of your dozed state.
“Hey, honey.” Piper says as she helps you sit up in bed.
“How long?” You ask, your voice is low and slurred.
“Five days.” Piper says brushing hair stuck to your forehead.
“Sorry.” You say hanging your head. Piper’s fingers come up to your chin and she pulls your face up to look at her.
“It’s okay, this is natural and it’s not your fault.” Piper says.
“Is it always going to be like this?” You ask, your voice shaking.
“I don’t know.” Piper replies, letting your chin go and you drop your head again. “How about a shower and a change of clothes? I think that will make you feel better.”
You nod agreeing and Piper helps you out of the bed and clothes and into the warm shower. She helps you wash then braids your hair before finding you a change of clothes then helps you back into bed. She never got to do any of this for Vanessa, but for some reason she wishes she did. Vanessa never had periods so bad, she could get through them with mild pain relief.
You are more pure then Vanessa ever was, everything is going to be harder for you. Piper feels sorry for you especially because Victor wants to do so many experiments. The science is fascinating though, you’re advancing their progress by months sometimes even years at a time. Piper helps you back into the bed and as you lay down finally pain free Piper can see how weak you've become.
You’re so vulnerable when you’re in this state, Piper has to keep Victor away, she has to keep you safe. She bends down by the side of your head and strokes your hair whispering little comforts into your ears as you fall asleep.
She knows deep down she can’t keep you safe forever.
3 years later
Although your period started at 16 you didn’t get your first heat until you were almost 19. Two months before your birthday when the symptoms started. Piper didn’t know whether to be excited or disappointed. She was excited to study you, to have an omega in heat is a rare thing but then she remembers the type of experiments Hale was talking about in their last meeting.
He wants to test the limits of what a heat can do. Theoretically heats kick the body into overdrive. Things move faster, metabolism, healing, awareness. Piper bit down on her tongue when she heard that. If she had to attach words to her heat awareness would not be one of them. She’s barely even conscious when her heats come around, theoretically it should be worse for omegas.
Hale was right through, all the tests they were able to run during the first few days of your heat came back positive. Your body is running like a well oiled machine, even better than one. Everything they predicted about the heat is true apart from your awareness. Just like Piper expected you’re barely away only calling out for an alpha.
“Heat experiment number one is a success.” Hale announces the next day during the weekly meeting. “We now know how strong she is during her heats. We know what limits we can push.”
It makes a pit form in Piper's stomach. The results are magnificent, you are magnificent. The results are better than anything she had ever imagined, but at the same time getting them meant you had to suffer and testing the limits means you’ll have to suffer again. She can’t think about that right now though. She has a beta about to go into heat and she has another heat blocker drug to test.
“Doctor Montgomary will continue to monitor the omega through the rest of her heat.” Hale looks over at her and she nods. At least she’ll be able to give you some restbite now, it won’t be enough though, it will never be enough. Not until you can get an alpha and the only alpha Hale keeps alive is himself.
…
Piper walks into your room, you’re asleep. You don’t get much rest while you’re in heat. The only time you’ve slept over the past 72 hours is when you’ve exhausted yourself to the point where you can’t physically stay awake anymore. Your breathing is labored and even while you’re asleep you’re reacting to her scent in the room.
She wants to let you sleep but the moment you get some satisfaction you’ll sleep way better, hopefully being able to get a few hours of peaceful sleep. She gently rests a hand on your shoulder and you snap up, your eyes wide and pupils blow out. Piper bends down by the side of your bed, you whine and rub your legs together.
“I know, hun. Look what I’ve got.” She holds up one of the dildos, she’s had years of research into which would be the best for you. She knows which ones will be the most satisfying, you reach out, take it out her hand and look at it with your wide eyes.
“And this.” Piper opens up the ziplock bag. As soon as the scent of alpha hits you, you throw yourself off the bed. Piper moves back, stepping up to her feet. She drops the piece of fabric.
“Alpha.” You whine, taking it in your hands and pressing it against your nose. You growl one of your hands slipping between your legs. “Al-alpha.” Piper needs to leave, you could get aggressive so she can’t stay. She reaches back over to the bedside table and drops a clit stimulator by your head and leaves.
When she makes it into the observation room you’ve already found the vibrator and have it pressed between your legs. You let out a shaky moan with your nose still buried in the square of fabric. The door to the room opens and Piper turns seeing Hale walk in. He smells of alcohol and he walks over to the one way window.
“She’s so beautiful.” He says after a few moments of silence. Piper looks back at you squirming on the floor. She wouldn’t exactly call what you’re going through as beautiful. Piper looks over Hale, she can tell he’s barely trying to keep it together, maybe that's what the alcohol is for.
He adjusts himself in his jeans and Piper looks back towards you. The smell of vanilla and honey is strong in the air. She talked to Hale about coming up with some kind of blocker to make things easier for him but he said he wanted to keep things as natural as possible.
“What made you decide not to claim her?” Piper asks eventually.
“Not until the formula is perfect. Not until she’s pure.” He says, there’s an edge to his voice, maybe annoyance she doesn’t care enough to psychoanalyse him right now. He breathes in the stagnant air and almost growls as he breathes out.
“Her being in this state is not optimal.” Piper says as you try to satisfy yourself with the toys Piper left you. Hale hums.
“Don’t worry, I have a plan for her next heat.” She turns to look up at him, frowning. He has a greedy look in his eyes, something she has never seen before. He’s filling the room with his alpha she know’s he can’t control it.
“We have investors coming, what better way to show them the formula then with an omega in heat.” He says before sighing again. “At least she’ll be more satisfied.”
Piper gasps when she realises what he’s alluding to. He’s going to use sex to sell the formula.
“She-” Piper chokes on the words and stands up, Hale turns to look at her. “She can’t consent.”
“She doesn’t need to. I own her. She is an investment.” He turns back to watch you. “She should start being useful as one.”
“This is rape.” Piper says quietly.
“Would you rather have her struggling like this each time?” He snaps at her. She watches you writhe around on the floor trying and failing to get any stimulation to satisfy you. You need something real, you need a warm body and an alpha. She shakes her head, you’re not an object, you’re a person. Hale seems to sense her hesitation resting his hand on her shoulder.
Once it might have been reassuring, now it just feels wrong. She doesn’t want him touching her but his alpha filling the air makes her frozen in place.
“You’re not thinking-”
“My head has been clearer than it has ever been.” He squeezes her shoulder. “She is the omega, one day she will give us as many alphas and omegas as we need. Think of the science.”
She sighs but she does think about the science. Pure alphas and omegas are the unfortunate next step in finalising the formula. It’s just a theory but a pureblood might just be want they need to unlock the formula in ways Piper can’t even imagine. Hale talks about immortality, Piper sees it more for the way they can eradicate disease, cancers and genetic malformations.
She looks at you squirming on the floor. This is natural, something your body has to do to give them what they need. You’re not perfect, you probably never will be but you can create something so genetically pure it will be the key they need. Then Piper can remove heats from the formula, remove the alpha, beta and omega properties. Only then will it be perfect.
She has to think of the bigger picture. The formula is bigger than all of them, including you. They’re all going to have to suffer for the cure, you most of all.
“On two conditions.” Piper says, she looks at Hale who smiles at her and nods, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “She goes on birth control.” Hale nods.
“When you claim her this stops.” She says. He clenches his teeth, she waits for his response expecting him to say no but he nods.
“You can even vet them.” He sounds so formal as he says it. “I’m sure there are plenty of things we can try with people who haven’t taken the formula and someone who has. An omega in heat of all things.”
Piper hums, there are a lot of things they could try. She sighs reluctantly.
“Fine, but only if I can vet the people she’s with.” Piper says.
Hale smiles. “Of course, Dr. Montgomery.”
You wake in the dark.
It feels like the darkness is seeping into your body, you feel heavy. Your body throbs with each thump of your heart, you shiver against the cold wet floor. You open your eyes but you can’t make anything out, not even your own hand in front of your face. The place smells of wet concrete.
You sob as you move, stretching your arms and legs out but it feels like they’re rubbing against sandpaper. The floor is damp and cold, the concrete is rough and there is something digging into your side. You cry out as you roll, reaching down to feel the cold smooth metal of a drain.
You’ve never seen a room like this in the bunker before, as you pull your knees up to your chest a door opens and a bright light spills into the room blinding you. You bring your arm up to cover your eyes, you hear something being dragged on the floor. You’re still blind as a stream of high pressure freezing water slams into your chest.
You cry out but the water is sprayed in your face and you swallow a mouthfill down. You immediately choke on it and start to cough but whoever has the hose doesn’t stop. You can’t breathe, your body tries to roll over but you’re in too much pain and all you can do is bring your legs up to your chest.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You hear Piper's voice. The hose stops and you’re still trying to get a lungful of air, you cough and choke and try to look up at the doorway. Piper’s scent wafts into the room and you hear her come over and bend down by your head, her hand brushes your hair as you start to shiver.
“It’s okay, hun. It’s over now.”
“Professor h-”
“I don’t give a fuck what he said. Get out!” Piper snaps, you can feel her anger in the air. It makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. The hose is dropped and you slowly peel your eyes open, Piper is blocking most of the light it makes her look like she's shining with a bright yellow glow.
“Easy, hun. I got you, it’s going to be okay.” She says as she strokes your head and face. She’s gentle and keeps her voice low as she comforts you. Your head is swimming and your body continues to throb, she doesn’t turn any lights on leaving the only light coming into the room is the light from the door. She disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a bucket and a bag of something.
She bends down by rolling her sleeves up and dunking the flannel into the bucket, then you shiver as warm water is squeezed over you. You can smell her, mellow but floral, it’s a smell you’re not familiar with but at the same time it’s familiar to you. You know why that scent belongs to Piper.
She wipes your whole body down gently and in silence. When she’s done you finally gather the strength to sit up, you wrap your arms around your legs and Piper moves to kneel behind you.
“It hurts.” You say, it’s quiet and the sound feels like it's sucked up by the concrete walls.
“I know, we’re going to go to bed and you can have some pain relief.” She says. You try to think about what happened. It was worse than you ever imagined. New emotions you’re not used to feeling, and then there was the overwhelming feeling needing something, anyone but you needed and alpha. Piper focuses all her attention on you, her hands work slow and gentle as she finishes washing your body.
Her hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Your hair is still stuck to your neck and face. She sighs and gently turns you so your back is to her. She gathers all your hair up and starts to braid it. The gesture is almost too much and before you can stop yourself you’re crying again.
“It’s okay.” She says quietly as you sniffle, when she’s done with the braid she rests it on your shoulder and you run your hand over it. Her hand lands on your other shoulder and she gently squeezes.
“Thank you.” You say. She smiles and helps you to your feet. She takes you out of the cold dark room and back into your bedroom. The place has been cleaned and the bed has been stripped and remade. You’re exhausted, Piper finds you the comfiest pair of pyjamas and helps you dress before tucking you into bed.
You close your eyes for what feels like just a second but when you open them again Dr. Piper has set up an IV and is injecting something into your hand.
“Just pain relief.” She says with a gentle smile. “Just rest, I will come and check on you in a few hours.”
You nod and close your eyes again, you don’t want to dream but it happens anyway and you fall into a deep restless sleep.
…
When you’re finally asleep Piper sneaks out the room leaving you alone to get some rest.
She feels horrible, she rushes back to her room, she wants to be alone right now. When she gets into her office she closes and locks her door behind her. Nausea bubbles in her stomach and she rushes into her bathroom throwing her head into the toilet bowl and heaving until her stomach is empty.
When she sits back she slumps against the wall and sobs. Your scent is still lingering on her, sweet strawberries and honey. While you were in heat the scent coming off you was sickly, harsh and strong but not for Hale. He lapped it up barely being able to keep it together.
Piper pushes him out her mind, she doesn’t want to think about him right now she wants to think about you. She remembers you in the concrete dark washroom Hale had built solely for hosing you down after your heats. Piper hates that room, the most she can do is make you feel somewhat better.
It’s never going to get better for you, if anything it's going to get worse and once Hale claims you she’ll be able to help you less and less. She has to do something she can’t just sit back and watch you suffer like this.
She’s a doctor first.
She gets up off the floor and strips her clothes off throwing them to the side then climbs into the shower. She needs to get her scent off you, all she can feel is guilt and she should feel guilty. She’s letting this happen, she should have stopped. Hale trusts her even if he’s been getting distant if anything he respects her council.
She should have done better, she’s a doctor first.
She turns the shower up as high as it goes and she scrubs her body until it’s red and burning and she can’t stand the pound of the water anymore. She steps out of the shower her face is red and puffy from the silent tears she let herself cry. She pulls a towel down and wraps her body before going into her bedroom and collapsing on the bed.
She looks up at the ceiling. The only light coming into her room is from her adjoining office. Her nose is blocked, her face and body is raw. Not as badly as yours though, she will never have it as bad as you do. She closes her eyes wishing she had a bottle of scotch to drink down and forget all her worries.
She has to be strong though, she has to be strong for you, she needs to be the anchor you can hold onto because no one else will be.
Piper wakes the next day with a pounding headache. She jumps out of bed remembering she was supposed to check on you after a few hours. She’s still naked, she doesn’t remember falling asleep, she quickly throws on whatever clothes she can find. When she makes it into her office she sees the answer machine blinking on her phone.
She ignores it but puts her mobile in her pocket and heads out of her office towards your room. When she makes it in there the door is already ajar, she walks in to see the two cleaners stripping and cleaning your room.
“Where is she?” Piper asks with panic in her voice.
“Profes-” She doesn’t wait for them to finish and instead leaves heading for the elevator. She runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to compose herself, she’s about to swipe her card when something stops her.
Shit, the report he wanted. She needs an excuse to see him anyway and quickly goes back to grab it off her desk. The folder is thin, there is not much she’s been able to do in the way of looking into heat blockers but it’s better than nothing and it was the only thing she had been able to keep her mind on during your heat.
She goes back to his elevator and swipes her card letting the private lift come to collect her. When she’s in she composes herself swallowing the lump in her throat. When the doors open the smell of honey hits her hard, she flairs her nostrils as she walks out and looks over to see you. You’re barely awake, swaying by Hale's side as he holds the back of your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and he squeezes your neck, enough to make you snap back to reality and steady yourself.
She knocks on the clear glass door and Hale waves her in, she doesn't have to knock but it’s about respect, he is still her superior. He is her boss and your alpha.
“I have the last report for you.” She says putting the folder on the table. He nods without moving for it. Piper knows she should leave but her eyes meet yours before you quickly look down.
“She should still be resting regularly.” Piper says, Hale looks up at her over his glasses. “She will still be exhausted from her heat.”
“Thank you, doctor. She is getting rest.” Hale says. She looks at him, there’s something new in his eyes. Piper flairs her nostrils and his alpha fills the space, he wants her to leave. She nods and turns, your eyes are closed now and your nails are digging into your thighs. Piper walks out the room in silence leaving you alone with Hale.
It’s all for the greater good.
Six months later
Doctor Piper always smells of something floral. You’re not quite sure what flower it is but it always makes you feel safe.
“Whats that?” You ask as she picks up an injection.
“Just a new version of the formula.” She smiles, you nod. You’re used to that at least, you’re used to being given a newer and newer version almost monthly. The formula will change the world one day, you know how important it is. It’s what causes you to be like this though - an omega.
“The Professor wants to spend my heat with me next month.” You say, Dr. Piper freezes for a second then puts the syringe in a yellow bucket.
“How do you feel about that?” She asks. Horrible, you don’t want him to be with you. But then you’ll be alone, without an alpha, without a knot. You know how horrible it was the first time, there's no way being with the Professor is going to be worse.
“I think I need an alpha.” You say scratching your arm.
“But?”
“No but.” You sigh, Dr. Piper tells the Professor everything and if he thinks you’re not looking forward to spending your heat with him he might choose not to, and leave you with nothing. Last time you had nothing for the first few days, you rubbed your thighs together and clawed at your chest so much it took you a week to recover from the marks.
“Do you think he’ll claim me?” You ask after a few more moments of silence. Dr. Piper’s hand comes up to stroke your face.
“No, he’s not planning it this time.” She says with a smile. You nod but bite back your own smile, you should want him to claim you. You want to be a good omega for him, you know how angry he can get. “I don’t think there is anything to be worried about.”
You nod. You won’t be so aware, that's a good thing. You barely remember the last time, just the aftermath. The pain and the exhaustion that pulled on your body, maybe this time it will be better. You reach out for Dr. Pipers arm and she stops resting her hand on yours and squeezing.
“Will you be there again?” You ask. “Afterwards, can you? Can you be there?” You look up at her with pleading eyes. She presses her lips together then smiles and squeezes your hand again.
“Of course I will be there.”
Next month comes quicker than you expect and you were wrong, it’s worse the second time.
You’re taken to a new room, there is nothing but security cameras and a double bed. The room feels sterile, the walls and floors are white tiles. On the ceiling there is a mural, it’s of fields with a sunset, the whole ceiling is almost covered in light oranges and pinks. It’s the only thing of colour in the room.
You’re barely paying attention to Dr. Piper as she sits you down on the side of the bed and injects you with something. You don’t bother asking what it’s for, instead you just let her do what she wants and when she leaves she leaves you with nothing.
The burn pulses through your body and you lay in the bed squirming, trying to get any kind of stimulation, you try to fight but you can’t and before you can stop yourself you’ve stripped your clothes and you’re writhing around on the bed. It feels like it’s been hours when you hear the door open, the smell of alpha fills the room.
Your head snaps up and you look through your haze to see the Professor walking in. You’ve never seen him like this before, it’s almost like you’re seeing him in a different light. He pulls his shirt off over his head as he walks over to you. You crawl to the end of the bed reaching out for him, the moment you feel the warmth of his skin it sends pulses down your body.
“Please, alpha.” You beg, anything to quell the throb between your legs. He chuckles darkly, his hand slips around your neck and he forces your head up to look at him. Tears form in your eyes blurring your vision but you can still hear him and feel him as he kisses you.
“Show me how much you want this.” He says in a low voice, the sliver in his hair being lit up by the harsh overhead lights. He squeezes your throat and you can’t breathe. “Show me you want this, present for your alpha.”
Your body moves without thinking. Turning around and pressing your face and chest into the bedding thrusting your arse up into the air. You spread your legs and you feel his hand land on the small of your back.
“Good.” His hand curves around your arse. Something deep inside you knows this is wrong but you don’t care to stop it, he projects his scent into the air more and you breathe him in. He slaps you hard, then again on the other cheek. It makes your eyes water and you bite down on the inside of your mouth.
He takes his hand away and you whine, the lack of contact makes you shiver but you don’t move.
“Be a good omega and I'll give you what you want.” You hear the sound of his belt hitting the tile floor. He climbs on the bed and bends over you, his lips are by your ear. “Until then only I get what I want.”
“Ye-yes alpha.” You whine. He moves back and his hand laces through your hair before he presses your face down hard into the bedding.
It’ll be over soon then you’ll get a knot.
It’ll be over soon.
The sharp sting of cold water splashing against your body wakes you from your dreamless sleep.
You cry out as pain throbs through your body and you pull your knees up to your chest wrapping your arms around legs trying to keep warm. You can’t hear anything over the rush of water, the water stops and you hear someone shouting. You sob and start to shiver as the hose is dropped.
Then you smell flowers, mellow but strong. It’s Dr. Piper. You sob again, she’s here like she said she would be. You feel her cold hands, one lands on your head and the other lands on your hip.
“Easy, it’s okay hun.” She says then rests a towel over you, her hand keeps stroking your hair while you sob. Now you don’t have harsh cold water pounding against your skin you start to feel exactly where the pain around your body is. Your hand slips around to the back of your neck and all you feel is smooth skin.
He didn’t claim you.
You let out a sigh of relief but it doesn’t last long as Dr. Pipers fingers brush over a bruise around the front of your neck. It’s tender and you close your eyes, biting down on the inside of your cheek, your mouth immediately fills with blood as you bite through the newly healed skin.
Her hands travel around the rest of your body, your head is still fuzzy but you’re starting to have memories come through. You remember a crate being wheeled in at one point, you remember it having all sorts of things inside, didos and plenty of other things you’d never seen before.
You remember the whips though and Dr. Piper sighs as she opens her medical bag inspecting your back. This is how it is supposed to be, this is what you have to do. You need to keep your alpha happy. You did whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted just to be able to get his knot.
“How do you feel?” Dr. Piper asks as she rubs some kind of cream on the wounds on your back.
“Okay.” You lie. “I was a good omega.”
Dr. Piper sighs, you smell sadness fill the air, it makes hair stand up on the back of your neck and you swallow the lump that forms in your throat. The scent of mint is quickly replaced with Dr. Piper’s beta. She rubs your shoulder.
“Okay, let's get you some pain relief then to bed.”
“No.” The Professor's voice fills the small concrete room, the scent of alpha takes the space over and you force yourself to sit up with Dr. Piper's help.
“Professor, she needs rest.”
“I am her alpha. I know what she needs. Doctor, you are no longer needed here.” He says, Dr. Piper gets to her feet as you use the damp towel to cover your chest. Dr. Piper whispers something at him in a stern voice but you can’t hear whatever it is, you feel tears escaping down your face as she leaves the room.
The salt from your tears spill into a wound on your cheek, the professor bends down in front of you and you fight every muscle in your body as your brain screams at you to move away from him. His hand comes to cup your cheek and you look up at him. His eyes look dark, he has dark circles under his eyes but his cheeks are flushed. His hair and beard have been freshly shaved.
“You were a good omega for me.” He says. You grit your teeth unsure how to react. “Now you’re going to continue to be a good omega.”
You nod.
“You had a good heat.”
You nod again. He smiles and stands up offering you his hand, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. You’re unsteady and you stumble against him. You expect him to be angry but instead he wraps his arms around you. One of his hands starts to stroke your hair.
“One day you will give me so many beautiful alphas and omegas.” He says breathing in your scent which still lingers with honey. “I am not done yet.” He breaks holding you by your shoulders, he grabs the towel you’re still using to cover you and pulls it to the floor. You wrap your arms around your chest.
“Don’t hide from me. You never have to hide from your alpha.” He says grabbing your wrists and moving them so he can see your exposed body. His hand comes up to grip one of your breasts running his thumb over your nipple.
“Yes,” he breathes. “I’m not done quite yet.” He steps into the doorway to the room and offers you his hand.
You hesitate but you don’t have much of a choice. He is your alpha and you are his omega. Everything you do is for him. You reach out putting your hand in his and he smiles. You smile back and let him pull you out the room.
