star wars x reader (one-shots)

let go: (platonic) yoda

sometimes you need a little guidance in life.

Summary:

Something bad's happened, but you don't want to say what. After all the death you've seen, you can't say this was the first time. The only problem? You can't seem to let go.

The scars were fresh and the wounds new. No matter the rotation, (Y/n) couldn't jump back in her routine and say she was alright, because she wasn't. She lost her squad, the boys she called her brothers, and her master, whom was the father she never had.

Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose.

It was a teaching the Jedi implemented into every single youngling when they were old enough to comprehend words. (Y/n) knew this, yet she couldn't bring herself to follow the only thing she knew. Everything felt numb. Nothing was real anymore.

Get up early in the morning. Train. Meditate. Have breakfast. Train again. Have lunch. Train again and meditate. Then eat dinner, hit the 'fresher, and go to sleep.

What had changed since the only people (Y/n) could call home died? What changed since (Y/n) blamed herself for their deaths? Nothing. Each day was the same, save for the fact that she was alone. As (Y/n) blindly walked through the halls, her feet dragged behind. It was as if fifty-pound weights were attached to her limbs, dragging her further down until her head bowed to the ground.

It was really hard to breathe.

"Padawan (L/n)." (Y/n) recognized that crinkly voice from anywhere. It was aged, filled with years of wisdom, and surprisingly, gentle. "Master Yoda." she said, spinning on her heel to face him. The elderly Jedi waddled to (Y/n)'s side with the aid of his walking stick. "Much trouble, I sense. Come," he motioned for her to follow, "to the courtyard, we go." And so the two walked, passing by the occasional Jedi who offered a bow of greeting. The silence between the two remained rather lax and confortable as they made their way to their destination.

Stepping into the sunlight provided (Y/n) with a warmth she hadn't felt in weeks. The breeze helped soothe her tense shoulders and offer what a cold, dark room could not: comfort. The blooming flowers smiled as the two settled in the middle of the courtyard. Because it was lunchtime, it remained empty, leaving both (Y/n) and Yoda in a peaceful atmosphere.

"A hard time for you, I understand this is." Yoda offered a kind smile. "Let this cloud your mind, you cannot, hm?" (Y/n) folded her hands together with a solemn nod. "Yes. I understand Master Yoda, but..." She trailed off, a tired expression settling on her face. Yoda hummed in understanding. "Blame yourself for what you could not control, you have. Unwise, this is." He pointed a wrinked finger towards her. "Your friends, great sacrifice they did. Not in vain, it was, for in one piece you are."

"Yes, Master." (Y/n) quietly said. Yoda studied her expression carefully. He took note of the crinkle in her brow and the dullness in her eyes. After living for so long, he began to realise that the same eyes resided in the same types of people. What he saw was not the strong, resiliant (Y/n). No, this girl was different. She was lost, and so, so sad. It wasn't fear clouding her vision, but a deep anger directed at herself.

"Careful, you must be Padawan. Hate, a path to the Dark Side, it is. Dangerous, no matter the type, it is. Deeply wounded, you have been. Clear your mind, you must. Grief, you must look past." Yoda set down his wooden cane and placed his hands on his knees. "Mediate, you will with me?" (Y/n) nodded and mimicked his pose.

"No use, the past will be. To the present, you must remain."

They closed their eyes. For moments, all (Y/n) saw was a sea of pitch black. She sensed every living being around her, from Master Yoda, to the butterfly behind her. She felt the stable ground beneath her, and the flowing fountain as it sprouted a waterfall of crystal blue.

"Physically, gone they are. Dead, you think?" Yoda let out a humorous chuckle. "No. In the Force, they are. Gone, no one truly will be. Reach, and you will see."

(Y/n) focused deeper into the Force, past Yoda, past the flowing fountain and the butterfly. She searched deep within herself, then into the wide galaxy before her. "We're...connected." (Y/n) slowly said. "All of us." She breathed in a deep breath to keep her centre. "I sense them."

Although (Y/n) couldn't see anyone, she knew they were there with her. Jedi or not, everyone was one. Creatures are born into this world, live and experience life, then die and return to the Earth, where life then begins again. And if life did not begin again, they remained in the Force, watching and hoping for the best of former friends or family.

There he was, (Y/n)'s master. He sat in front of her, arms wide and pulling (Y/n) into a tight hug. Behind him was her squad, who waved and grinned. Despite their brutal deaths, they were...happy. Perhaps it was because their Jedi acknowledged them, or perhaps they were just so, so happy. Whatever it was, brought tears to (Y/n)'s eyes. All the weight in her heart poured out like the fountain, sweeping out into a river containing her sorrow, anguish, and hate.

It was my fault you all died.

No it wasn't.

You should have lived.

We chose you over ourselves.

Why did you save me?

Because we love you more than you know. Do not let our deaths be in vain. Let go. Emancipate yourself from your pain.

And so she did. Tears flowed down (Y/n)'s face as the faces and voices of her friends, her family, flashed by.

You are loved.

The constricting of her throat was gone, and so was the weight on her shoulders.

Let go.

(Y/n) opened her eyes. Master Yoda no longer sat in front of her and was in fact, nowhere to be seen. (Y/n) silently smiled to herself, uttering a quiet thank you that the wind carried away.

Unbeknownst to her, Master Yoda stood behind a pillar, a soft smile on his lips. Although he was wise, only recently did he realise how different people could be. Some understood and handled the 'no attachments' rule well while others did not. The lesson?

Attachments are normal, but when the time comes, one must learn to let go.

For the first time in a while, Master Yoda had become the student rather than the teacher.