#and get away from the temple and all the memories the jedi are trying to give back to him

[tennessoui]

18) waking up with amnesia au pretty please! I was delighted with how many of the prompts you've already done, it was a really fun bingo!

Best friends sibling = band au

knocking on the wrong door = actually name of the fic

Nanny/single parent au = Nannykin

Etc etc etc!

hello hello this was sent january 10!! hope you still want some waking up with amnesia au! this just demonstrates how long i can hold onto a prompt i have every intention of completing

(from this prompt list) (& this is the waking up with amnesia au prompt fill i did a few years ago when i first reblogged that prompt list!)

(3.5k)

(warnings: angst but not incredibly sad. more like. here there lies some future manipulation/mind fuckery because of angst established in this ficlet but not resolved in this ficlet but would be in the future)

(also warning: vader)

It is somehow both the hardest and easiest part of the day, every time. 

It is easy to let his feet turn in the direction they beg to go during all his waking seconds. It is easy to allow them to lead the way. It feels as if a great and crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders the moment that he sees the pillars standing sentry at the entrance of the Halls of Healing. It is so easy to give into his body’s desire to allow it to find its other half.

It is almost harder to stay away, to pretend to be the respectful and poised Jedi master he masquerades as during those long moments of the day that he is not by Anakin’s side.

But what is infinitely harder than journeying there or keeping his distance is arriving. Is what waits for him within the Halls.

“How is he today?” he asks the moment he sees a healer—it does not matter which one these days. They must all know him by now, know the series of questions he demands answers to.

This time, the man he finds is healer Ramak, at least, one of the primary specialists on Anakin’s case. Rarely can Obi-Wan corner him. Ramak is incredibly busy both within the Temple and outside of it. He has numerous priorities. 

Obi-Wan really only has one priority. Often this puts them at odds. 

“Ah,” Ramak says, adjusting his robes. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan says. And then, “How is he today?” In case Ramak has missed his question.

“He is much the same, Master Kenobi,” Ramak replies. “As he was yesterday.”

Obi-Wan swallows. The words get stuck in his throat for a moment and he has to force them up past his teeth. “What does…what has he remembered?”

Healer Ramak’s face slides from reluctantly indulgent to pitying. It would grate against Obi-Wan’s rather impressive sense of pride if he did not already know exactly how pitiful he is. 

“Memories are not stored within the mind chronologically, Master Kenobi,” Ramak says carefully. Obi-Wan has heard this before. Obi-Wan could recite this speech. 

Obi-Wan listens to it silently anyway. Perhaps this time, Ramak will find the correct combination of words to explain his loss to him in terms he can understand. “Uncovering them again is not simply a matter of starting from the beginning of his life and moving forwards. We cannot simply recover and present him with all of his memories from age nine, from age thirteen, to now.”

Obi-Wan can feel a muscle tick in his jaw and he crosses his arms. Another healer crosses behind him, jostles him in their hurry to get to another patient. Differing priorities. 

But Obi-Wan only has one.

“It is like…” Ramak trails off, thinking. “Picture the rain. What do you think of?” It is much too transparent, what Obi-Wan thinks of when he thinks of the rain. He thinks of Anakin as a youngling. The ashes of Qui-Gon’s body had not fully cooled before the skies of Naboo had broken open in a torrential downpour, and the boy, padawan braid that was both his and Obi-Wan’s newly weighing on his shoulder, had escaped from the palace in Theed, ran outside with arms raised up in wonder.

“When you think of rain, you do not recall your memories chronologically,” Ramak says kindly, as if he understands where Obi-Wan’s mind has gone. “That is to say, you do not immediately think of the first time you experienced it. Our minds store memories based on their significance to us, the meanings they hold for us, which makes mind-healing to this degree incredibly difficult. Not to mention, not only was Knight Skywalker stripped of his memories, tortured, and indoctrinated, he was held for several months. Long enough for new neural pathways to form, new connotations and memories to take the place of the ones he lost.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan says. When he holds up his hand to forestall the other man’s words, it is shaking slightly. “Please just tell me.”

Will he recognize me? 

Will he hate me?

Will another day go by where he does not know me?

“He has a long way to go yet,” Ramak says finally, lifting his hand to stroke over his beard. “His time as Vader left scars—”

“His time captured,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He was a hostage.” Ramak looks at him. Anakin, kidnapped by the sith, without his memories, trained to be deadly and taught to Fall, was more than a hostage. They both know that. Everyone in the galaxy knows the dangers that Darth Vader represented to the Republic.

Very few know that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. It had been a terrible surprise. It had been the sweetest sort of relief too, to find him at all.

“Yes,” Ramak finally allows. “His time as a hostage left innumerable scars, Obi-Wan. Even after he regains all his memories, he will have a long journey ahead of him.”

“How is he?” Obi-Wan repeats, even though it is rather rude to cut the healer off. “How is he today?”

Ramak hesitates for a moment and then another, and his Force signature tenses as if at war with itself. “He requested to see you,” he finally says. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. The Jedi saved Anakin Skywalker from the Sith five weeks ago, and though Obi-Wan has spent each of those days trekking from his quarters to the Halls of Healing and back, accousting various healers and Council members alike, desperate for any information they can give him…he has not yet been able to sit beside Anakin. He has not been allowed to talk with him at all.

It is for the best. That is what he’s been told and that is what he must believe. It is for the best. Anakin does not remember him. He remembers the word master—he does not remember that he used to say the same word with respect. With affection. He does not remember Obi-Wan at all.

He remembers his master, Sidious. He remembers his master on Tatooine. He does not—Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why he cannot remember him. 

Anakin has never once asked to see him. 

“I want to see him,” Obi-Wan says immediately, turning towards the wing where they are keeping Anakin. 

“Master Kenobi, it is not a good idea,” Ramak says, but it does not matter what they think is a good idea. It is what Anakin wants and it has been so long since Obi-Wan has been something Anakin wants.

Something of what he’s feeling must flash across his face, because the healer sighs and rubs at his forehead as if he finds the whole ordeal incredibly trying. 

“I will not hurt him,” Obi-Wan says quickly, and Ramak shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“That is not the concern, Master,” he replies, but his shoulders have slumped. His forehead is wrinkled, but his Force signature has relaxed. He has given in. Obi-Wan has won. “I—”

But Obi-Wan has won. And so he has already stepped away, intent now on seeing his padawan. He leaves the healer behind where he stands, pushing through the doors of the wing and finally—finally to Anakin’s room.

He’d been so volatile at first, when he was still Vader. The Jedi rescuing him probably felt more like being captured. Without his memories of the Order, of the Temple, of Obi-Wan, he’d Fallen so quickly as far as anyone knows. Sidious had taken him and twisted him and when he was found again, he’d fully believed in the Sith doctrine. He’d killed two Jedi before he was subdued.

So when he’d been brought into the Temple, into the Halls of Healing, they’d outfitted him with Force suppression cuffs. Given him his own room in order to protect the other patients.

Obi-Wan knows he still wears the Force bracelets and collar, but there’s knowing and then there’s seeing.

The seeing part takes his breath away. It looks so wrong, Anakin, his Anakin, wearing the cuffs and the collar. 

Anakin, his Anakin, with yellow eyes watching him intently from the moment he enters the room.

“Anakin,” he murmurs, a reflex. The sounds are punched out of him.

He is thinner. His hair is greasy. There are dark shadows under his eyes. The skin around the collar is red, rubbed raw. He looks a thousand times older. Guant and hollowed out as if the captivity and the Darkness has leached away all of his youthful energy.

“Master,” Anakin says reproachfully. And it sounds—it sounds so much like him, like Obi-Wan’s Anakin, that he has the rather ridiculous urge to cry. Master, master.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asks, though it is a useless sort of question. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. What to do with his tongue. He suddenly cannot remember the last time he asked Anakin how he was feeling. It was never a phrase that was part of their lexicon—for so many years, they shared a training bond. Obi-Wan was able to ascertain his padawan’s emotions with a gentle Force touch across the planes of his mind. More often than not, he was telling Anakin to search his own feelings. He was not asking him to interpret them for Obi-Wan’s sake.

Now though, their bond is severed and Anakin does not recognize him as anything more than another Jedi, another man who he once called master, and Obi-Wan stands across the room from him and does not recognize him either, save for all the ways that he does.

“Surely they have been giving you updates,” Anakin murmurs. “I know you have visited every day.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says because he will not lie to Anakin. He doesn’t think he remembers how. It has been—so long. Since he has last seen him. It is all he can do to stay standing now. To keep a respectable distance between them. To not fall to his knees. To not stumble forward and take Anakin’s hand in his own.

“What have they told you?” Anakin asks, and he tilts his head slightly. His golden eyes are as disconcerting as they are beautiful. They’re his. They’re his eyes, set in his face, and Obi-Wan has missed that face for so long. For months. He’d thought he’d never see it again, and he is just now realizing that he has no defenses left against Anakin. None at all. The boy could ask him for anything and he would fight to the death to give it to him.

The Force is in flux in the air around them, bucking up, riled, in a way Obi-Wan usually interprets as danger. But the Force could be screaming a death knell and Obi-Wan, in this moment, would only be able to hear a sweet cry of wild joy.

Anakin, this is Anakin. This is his Anakin and he is here. Back—partially. Back, incompletely. But back. Obi-Wan…he’d stopped hoping he’d ever get him back.

Instead of answering his question, he presses the backs of his fingers against his mouth to try and stop their shaking. Every day he has walked here, accosted the healers, demanded to know the latest. And he has never once realized how incredibly difficult it would be to lay eyes on Anakin. How incredibly difficult it would be to maintain his composure, to hold himself in. 

Anakin’s eyes glow gold, but Obi-Wan’s eyes are that of a starving man. All he can see is honey.

“Come here, master,” Anakin says, reproachful. “Did you not miss me?”

The words move him forward where his own feet could not. “Of course I did, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. Hoarse, too hoarse. Too trembling and old, but it has been so many months. He had thought him lost forever. Dead and gone and one with the Force, and for the first time in his life, that had given him no comfort.

Anakin holds out his mechno hand, palm up, fingers slightly crooked. He’d built them that way on purpose, Obi-Wan remembers. At fourteen, he’d broken his index and middle finger in a duel, bones shattering under the blow of another padawan’s sabor. A lucky hit, an unlucky outcome. Though they’d healed near perfect due to bacta, they’d always remained slightly bent out of place. When he lost his arm to Dooku five years later, he’d fiddled with the replacement until the mech digits tilted the same familiar direction.

Obi-Wan stares at them, caught up in the tide of the memory.

Had Vader ever looked down at his mechno hand and wondered about the imperfection? Had he thought to fix it once he had the time? Had he spared a thought for the black spots in his memory, the cavernous gaps in his past?

His fingers fall to rest against the sensors of the mech tips. They’re sensitive enough that he can see Anakin shiver at the touch. 

“Did you not miss me, master?” Anakin asks again, and his hand closes around Obi-Wan’s tightly, pulling him forward another few steps.

Obi-Wan nods, then shakes his head. Yes, he missed him. No, missing—missing is not a vast enough word. 

“You asked for me,” he hears himself say. “Do you—what do you….”

Do you remember me?

You must. You call me master. And you want me close.

But they pulled the memories of the word master from your mind days ago, and you hated me then. You did not want me near you. What has changed? What have you remembered?

“I wonder if they would treat any patient like this,” Anakin says. He uses his hold on Obi-Wan to pull him even closer, til his thighs brush the edge of the bed. “If it is the war that makes me special, if it’s my own power. Or if it’s you.”

Obi-Wan tenses. Him? He doesn’t—

“They’ve tried everything they can think of to trigger my memories of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin says. When Obi-Wan tries to move back, take a step away, find the air in the room to breathe, Anakin tightens his hold and pulls him forward until the only option is to either topple over onto his padawan’s chest or sit on the bed at his hip.

He sits.

“They debated for many days, you know,” Anakin says. His mech thumb begins to sweep over the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “If they should trigger the connections my mind has made to the word master. It’s a weighted word for Anakin Skywalker. Surely you know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan says carefully. When he tries to breathe, he can only do so shallowly as if his entire chest has shrunk to half its capacity.

“He was enslaved before he was a padawan,” Anakin explains as though Obi-Wan has not spoken at all. Maybe he hasn’t. For the past several months he has not been able to speak to Anakin aloud, could only talk with him in his mind—could never hear a reply. Perhaps he has forgotten how. “They were worried that after ten years studying under you, after two years fighting side by side with you, my strongest connotations to the word master would still be to slavery.”

Anakin ducks his head slightly, tilts it to the side to give Obi-Wan a small, private grin, as if the healers’ concerns are so unfounded that they are amusing. As if the concept that something could outweigh Obi-Wan’s importance to Anakin is so foreign and preposterous that it’s funny.

His smile knocks into Obi-Wan’s chest like a punch to the solar plexus.

“But they decided to risk it,” Anakin says. His voice is light as a feather. Airy and unconcerned. “Perhaps they should have started with smaller things. A light saber. A braid. A pear. A planet. But they wanted to re-establish my firmest conneciton to the Light as quickly as possible. And they thought that was you.”

Obi-Wan holds his breath, eyes leaping from their connected hands to the yellow of Anakin’s eyes. He has still fallen. He has not been healed. He is still—he is still—

“So they gave me back my masters,” Anakin pitches his voice low. “All of them, though I suppose I remember Sidious well enough. But they gave me back the Toydarian. And they gave me you.”

“They said you did not want to see me,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Why, Anakin, if you remember, why would you—”

“Because I hate you,” his padawan says as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. “Because they could give me back Master Kenobi, but wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, it was not in your title. He hated your title.”

Obi-Wan flinches back so violently that his forearm slips from Anakin’s grasp. Before he can move from the bed completely though, his padawan’s hand lashes out and curls around the fabric of his tunics. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says because he must deny this—he cannot stand to hear it and not deny it. No, Anakin—there was love there, in the way he pronounced the word master. The way he looked at Obi-Wan: admiration shining in his eyes when he was younger, cooling off over the years into acceptance and affection. They had their arguments. They had their—misunderstandings, but Anakin did not resent him for his role in his life as his old teacher. His master. “You’re wrong.”

“He hated it more than he hated his actual slave master,” Anakin murmurs. Lightly, airily. As if his words are not landing devastating blows on all of Obi-Wan’s softest spots. “Do you know why?” “I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan whispers because he doesn’t because he can’t. Because he’d have known. Because this is Anakin, this is his Anakin, but there are still cavernous dark spots and gaps in his mind. This is not entirely his Anakin. He is still missing things. Thousands upon thousands of memories and moments and learned contexts and—

“I think you know why,” Anakin says as if he has not spoken. Funny, as Obi-Wan had thought he was screaming.

“I assure you I do not,” he snaps, spitting the words out as quickly as he can so that his voice cannot break between the syllables.

“Because Anakin Skywalker believed til the day he died that if you had not been his master, you would have allowed him to kiss you. To take you. To be taken by you. Don’t you remember, Master Kenobi?” Obi-Wan tears himself away from the bed, from the boy in it. Just a boy. Not a man. Not when he was seventeen and drunk for the first time, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pressing his face into his chest, whining and begging and pleading—and not when he was eighteen either, bold and staring at Obi-Wan's lips, not when he was nineteen, on the verge of his Knighting ceremony and demanding to be given into.

Just a boy, just his boy. But never—never anything else. 

“Like I said,” Anakin but not Anakin murmurs. Anakin, but Vader too. “Wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, they have not yet been able to find it in my mind. I can only assume he loved you at all.”

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes over the familiar face, the beloved face. The stranger’s face. If it were anyone else sitting before him, he’d have a retort already on his tongue. He’d have raised his shields, gone on the offensive. There are few people left in the galaxy that can land a blow on him, and many have tried.

But this is not anyone. This is Anakin. This is his Anakin and this is something for which he has no defenses prepared.

“How ashamed did you make him feel for loving you, master?” Vader asks, tilting his head in cruel curiosity. “That he compressed all of it into something so small that a whole Temple of healers have been unable to find it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps and this time he does not get the words off his tongue quick enough. His voice breaks in the middle of the demand, ribs cracking and parting to reveal the heart of him. “Not if—” not if you do not know what it means for him. For me. For us.

“Why not?” Vader says, and he raises his flesh hand to tuck a piece of greasy hair behind his head before allowing his fingers to fall to rest against his collarbone, ghosting against the Force suppression collar around his neck as if it’s a diamond encrusted necklace. “After all, am I not wearing your chains, master?”

[siempre-bucky]

what am i to you?

Qimir x Reader

Summary: You decide to leave Qimir, thinking your feelings are one-sided till an encounter with the Jedi Order proves otherwise.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: she/her pronouns, mentions of blood

A/N: I hope you like it Anon <3! Requests are still open for Qimir!

“What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him as you placed your hood over your head, your small bag placed at the side of you, “Whore? Helper? Companion? What other names do you use to describe me to your Acolytes?” 

“This is new for you, my dear,” he chuckled, amused as if you were a child trying to use big words. You were never the one to bite back, you would normally happily accept your role as his right hand. Not now, the years of trying to convince yourself he loved you had your patience growing thin.

“You don’t get to call me that, you seethed. “I’m leaving, Qimir. I can’t be here, knowing you don’t feel the same. I’ll never be more than whatever this is.” 

The Sith stayed silent after that, he merely watched as you accepted your defeat and picked up your things to disappear in the night. 

Tears fell as you walked through the forest, trying to expel memories of late night tangled in sheets and days of trips to the beaches of his favorite planet. He showed you all those wonderful things and touched you in a way you could only imagine, only for it to mean nothing. You wasted years on him. 

Something suddenly felt off, the hair on the back of your neck began to rise and the forest grew silent. Someone was there with you in the forest. A small smile tugged at your lips, he came back for you! You turned around and smiled at the figure that stood in the trees. About to tease him, the figure reached for his belt, a lightsaber igniting. Yellow? 

Before you had the chance to run, the Force knocked you to the ground roughtly. The figure grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. The man frowned “You’re the Force wielder?” he questioned. 

“N-no!” You cried, punching at his arm. 

“The Order keeps sending you to die,” a third voice entered the space, and you could recognize that distorted tone from anywhere. 

The Jedi swiftly turned the two of you to face the Sith standing a few feet away. Dressed in his helmet and cloak, Qimir watched as the Jedi released your hair and placed you in a chokehold with his free arm. The other turned off the saber and placed it on your temple, the heat of the metal making you cry out. 

This Jedi wasn’t like the rest of the ones the Order sent after Qimir, there was something in his eye that screamed rogue. “You either surrender,” the Jedi panted, tightening his grip on your throat and his saber pressing harder to your temple, “or I kill your… Acolyte? Is that what she is to you?” 

“Those are words of a Sith, Jedi, are you sure you’re not on the wrong side?” The Stranger spoke calmly, his voice distorted by his mask. He couldn’t see the fear in your eyes or how the Jedi was starting to bleed from you digging your nails into his forearms. 

You wish you could read him, be able to get inside his head, and know what he’s thinking one last time. Maybe he had some compassion for you because love was out of the question. He was here to kill you before you could get away. The Jedi pressed harder, the metal cutting into your skin. You screamed in pain and he laughed? Amused at what was going on. 

This was it. You heard his finger slide to the trigger. 

Qimir. 

I love you. 

I love you. 

If there’s an afterlife I wish for something kinder. 

You heard the ignition of a lightsaber, and in an instant the grip on your throat released. Then there was a thud, the crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs followed after. You fell to the floor and curled into a ball, heaving for air. Were you dead? Was this the afterlife you were just praying to the Maker for? “Get up,” the distorted voice commanded. You crawled a couple of inches and sat up, pushing your hair out of your face and looking behind you. 

Lying on the ground was the Jedi, a red lightsaber right through the center of his head. Your eyes widened and the last of the tears flowed from your eyes. You watched as Qimir called his saber back to his hand, a perfect circle left in its wake. He pulled you up by the shoulder and hurried you back towards the hideout. 

You walked hurriedly in silence, looking back at the deep forest every now and then to make sure you weren’t followed by anyone else. The Jedi Order had been desperate to capture him since the murder of that one Jedi on Udea. Qimir kept a tight grip on your wrist, you didn’t dare to pull away since he was the only thing keeping you alive. 

That silence remained when you got to the small cabin. He whipped off the mask and threw it violently into the corner. Your body stilled, wondering if you were in for a worse fate than with the Jedi. Qimir killed violently, he’d kill anyone. You were nothing special. Not to him.

He turned to you with fire raging in his eyes, they only softened slightly when he saw the blood trickling from your head, a few drops of crimson landing on your chest. He extended his hand, a small wooden box rushing towards him. He caught it effortlessly and sat on the makeshift bed. “Sit.” 

You did as you were told and took a seat by his side. He went to work bandaging your wound, but you noticed something. Why didn’t he just heal it using the Force? Why was he taking the time for something so futile for a Sith? You also noticed his fingers trembling as he picked up the small scissors among the supplies. He made it halfway to your head before he shakily dropped them into your lap, the fabric of your cloak delicately breaking the fall. Your hands connected as you both reached out to collect them. 

Qimir let go of the scissors and held your hand. “Are you ok?” he asked, all bite vacant in his tone.

“I think so,” you nodded. 

Silence filled the air, and you could feel his stare burn into your skin. He just went back to work, dabbing at the blood and cleaning your skin of dirt and blood. You nearly begged him to say something, anything to release you from the choking silence. 

After the job was done, Qimir stood and collected his supplies, putting everything away silently. Your gaze followed him, you had always wondered how he could act so calm in these situations, you almost admired it. Then he stood in the center of the room, his shoulders hunched and his gaze lingered on the ground, analyzing the cracks in the wood. 

“I didn’t know they we—”

“—I love you.” 

I love you. Those words sounded so foreign to him, he had spoken them once, before the Order and before they took him away. It had been so long—too long. He was embarrassed that it took that long to say to you. Qimir had learned his lesson.

You stood up, the wood creaking below you as you closed some distance between you. “Why tell me now? When I’m about to die at the hands of the Jedi.” 

“I should have told you a long time ago,” he jumped in, his hands flexing, “I heard your thoughts, your pleas. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your chin, “What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him the same question as earlier, this time you had no fight left. 

The Sith raised his hand and connected it to the side of your face, “I think they would have called it a soulmate?” He pulled you in closer, “I should have never let you feel differently.” 

“Never do that again,” you said bitterly, jabbing your finger into his chest. 

He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting his eyes flutter closed, “Never.”

[anakinsdove]

𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!reader

summary: you and anakin arranged a date in your apartment tonight… yes like a normal couple.

c/w: fluff, (and a little bit angsty) ani is in love and so are you, dates dates dates, movie night.

discord - twitter: anakinsdove

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰 - 2,819

“So you’re free tonight right?” “Yes” Anakin confirms for the millionth time today… it’s not your fault tho, you just wanna make sure this evening goes exactly as planned, it’s not every night you can arrange a date with your boyfriend though it’s exactly what you and him want, but after all, you’re not a normal couple, he’s a Jedi and not to mention dating it’s forbidden for Jedis, he’s also very busy… you pull at his hair excitedly and he hisses a little. “Wait! What movie are we watching?” You ask, and he nuzzles his face in your chest “Not Bribery” “Is that the one about the alien that-” “Yes that one” “It’s a good movie though” “Of course it’s not” your eyes widen at his disrespect…

“I can’t believe you actually said that” “it’s true” you grumble quietly and he chuckles… his eyes remain closed when he suddenly hears his communicator beeping “Is that-” he groans and answers

“Anakin, you must’ve report to the temple immediately” it’s obi wan “Be right there master” there’s clearly annoyance in his voice, and his heart sinks at your disappointed expression written all over your pretty face… “Hey… the sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back okay?” You can only nod already accepting that the date night is already canceled, you think it’s really selfish wanting to keep him all to yourself, after all he’s a Jedi, he saves lives, he does it for the republic, he does it everyday, why can’t you have him for a couple of hours?

“Look love… don’t worry, you go and get yourself all dolled up, I promise the date isn’t cancelled okay?” You can only hope it’s true… you think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it

“I’ll be waiting” you say and kiss his cheek, he grins at this and closes the door and hear from the other side “I’ll be here at 9:00” you nod forgetting he can’t see you…

5:45 PM

There’s a lot left to do, but where to start? Is the real question, you decide to start with cleaning around a little bit, you move the couch only to find Anakin’s beanie you knitted for him Anakin you grumbled angrily “It’s in my drawer I’m sure” he said a while ago when you questioned him why he didn’t wear it anymore… a few minutes later everything is done and the next step is to start dolling yourself up, you want this to be special and none of your dresses seem to match your expectation… too pink, too red, too elegant, too informal, wrong print? too short? I don’t think that would bother Anakin at all but it bothers you for some reason, it’s like your first date all over again, the butterflies, the anxiety and the unbelievable excitement… it was a great date, considering his padawan braid got stuck in your necklace, you cringe at the memory.

After what feels like an eternity you pick a dress… it’s beautiful purple and it has the “right” length, deciding to ignore the complete disaster you made in your closet, buuuuut now… your nails don’t match the stupid dress! Trying to grab your pretty lilac nail polish a knocking the rest of your make up over, you gasp when you hear your eyeshadow palette breaking and see pigment on the ground “oh no” the sadness in your voice equals to a kicked puppy, you kneel on the ground to dust it away.. it was your favorite palette, the pretty and expensive one, whimpering when you throw it in the trash.

Now you’re painting your nails sad and not even doing it right, there’s nail polish all over your fingers… what the fuck? The shower will take care of it

7:09 PM

Fuck! Everything it’s taking longer than usual, you haven’t even showered yet!

You undress yourself and get in a little bit too quick, the water is still cold, it makes you wince, but there’s not enough time and Anakin said he would be here at 9:00… your makeup, take out, your outfit, the candles? It’s not that you can’t do anything right it’s just that the excitement bubble you feel in your stomach betrays you and turns into anxiety. He would be happy to spend an evening with you in the sand just to be by your side, Anakin wouldn’t notice the small details that make you pull your hair, or maybe he would and wouldn’t even care, or maybe he would care-

8:54 PM

The rest of your routine goes slightly more smoothly, everything is set and now you’re just waiting for Anakin to arrive, you sigh and pray that everything goes as planned from now on.

9:01

9:07

9:15

9:23

9:28

Since when is your couch so big? And why do you feel the clock is ticking too loud for your liking? Your dress feels so tight and then is inevitable… You feel the familiar sensation of tears welling up in your eyes “You think it’ll be more painful to get yourself ready and having to take your pretty dress off, make up and hairstyle, later when he never shows up than to accept it now, but he’s making you a promise and he will keep it”

But then there’s an urgent knocking on your door, one that you could’ve never mistake, the kind of knocking that wants to take the stupid door down and your practically jump from the couch and sprint towards the door, opening it with shaky hands… And there he is… he’s frowning and gripping the bouquet of flowers in his hands anxiously, already damaging the wrapper that holds it together. “Y/n” he says breathlessly and he immediately stops when he notices the tears in your eyes.

Your eyes switch to his face to his eyes lips then the bouquet, taking all of him so you can remember this later, his robes are muddy “Ani-" he places the flowers at a nearby table and instantly takes your face in his hands “What’s the matter doll?” He asks and wipes your tears away.. it actually makes you melt.

“I thought you weren’t coming” Your voice comes out small and you feel a little sad for not trusting him from the begging, he promised he would be here and here he is…. “I’m sorry for being so late Y/N I- the mission was- it’s not important” “Are you okay?” You ask, he gives you a small smile and nods “Everything is alright, everyone as well” you sigh in relief “That’s good my love, congrats” you hug him, he’s still sad at the sight of your dried tears on your cheeks, but at least your mascara is still intact.

“You sure that’s all?” Your grip around him tightens as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, suddenly your struggles from earlier don’t seem like a big deal after his own deal being a Jedi is responsibility aswell. “I almost messed up our date?” “Huh? And why’s that love?” And you finally look up at him “I dunno… it’s silly”

“It can’t be silly if it bothered you enough to make you cry” you want to argue and say It is but he might be right and you don’t know better “First I found out you did loose the scarf I made you-” “Where is it!?” He asks excitedly “Then I didn’t like any of my dresses… it took me forever, then my nails wouldn’t match my dress and I dropped my eyeshadow palette-“ “The pretty one with the pink tones?” “Yes, that one” “Aw, I’m sorry doll” “It’s okay… then I got in the shower and the water was freezing and then you wouldn’t show up!” Anakin cringes at the last part and you continue “I-I’m sorry, all of this sounds really stupid compared to any kind of problem you face daily as Jedi-” “Normal” “Huh?” “Your problems are… are normal… I like normal” “Oh… You do?” “Of course Y/N… after dealing with the war everyday and the council… this, this is exactly what I need” you chuckle “Well it’s always a pleasure to be ordinary enough for you” “I didn’t mean it like that-” “I know” you giggle… “I wish our life would be this domestic sometimes, can you imagine? You, me and two little mini you running around the house?” Children… he’s thinking about children, that gives you a reality check, any silly doubt you might have about your relationship is gone just like that because he’s actually dreaming about a life with you, and you wouldn’t prefer any different.

“I would love that” you say sincerely… “They would have your eyes and my hair…. Your eyebrows” He traces them delicately “And maybe my personality, one each” that makes you beam “I can’t wait” “Me neither” He takes your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly… it’s nice and delicate, he hums in the kiss and takes the chance to slide his tongue in his mouth, you suck at it softly and after a few seconds you pull away only to find the completely head over heels gaze he’s giving you.

“You’re all muddy” you say “I didn’t see the hole in the ground-” you shake your head in disbelief and take his hand in yours to guide him to your bathroom “It was Obi wan’s fault!” Now.. how could that possibly be Obi wan’s fault? But you let him ramble. “Undress” you say

“Oh you would’ve loved that wouldn’t you?” he teases and you punch him in the shoulder jokingly. He starts taking his robes off while you start filling the tub, the water is warm this time and you pour a little of your lavander soap in “Hey i thought you wanted a show” he says teasingly, because you made him undress and you didn’t even watch… that’s a shame honestly. “Get in baby” he can’t resist you or a warm bath when needed.

The water is instantly soothing for his aching muscles… he groans and tilts his head back, opening his eyes to find you looking at him adoringly “Thank you my love” he says and you lean in to kiss his cheek “You’re very welcome Ani” you throw him your old rubber duck in he laughs, he closes his eyes and sighs, he couldn’t ask for anything better in life… his eyes remain closed for a few seconds “C’mon Baby don’t pass out… you could’ve drown” “Mmm I know you wouldn’t let me” “Don’t be so sure” he opens his eyes wide and you cackled. “Close your eyes” you say “Make up your mind” he teases but does as you say, You take a small recipient with warm water and pour it over his head, gently soaking his curls, he tilts his head forward like a child, then you pour some of the apple shampoo on your hand, you figured out he liked the scent and you start gently massaging his scalp and smile when you see bubbles, his eyes peaked open to look at your loving and concentrating expression, he’s melting but when your nails escaped along his scalp he purrs… the night goes on and when you’re done washing his hair and his bubble bath is over he turns the shower on to wash his body… you wait for him with a fluffy bath towel, he smiles when he sees you and he wraps himself in it.

He follows you into your bedroom where he find a pair of his sweatpants he keeps in here, the sweater you knitted for him, a pair of your fluffy socks and clean boxers, he gives you a grateful smile… when he’s done he wraps his arms around you and you lean on him as he rubs your back “You’re a little tense hun” “Whaaat? No I’m” “Lay down” you look up at him with puppy eyes “Lay down on your stomach c’mon” And who are you to complain when Anakin Skywalker gives an order.

You lay down on the bed and he takes your heels off and kisses up your calf, and okay you weren’t completely lying, you’re still not completely sure you’re actually tense and that Anakin only wants an excuse to touch you, but his touch already feels amazing… “M’sorry I didn’t say it earlier but you look absolutely beautiful, every single detail about you is perfect” that means a lot to you “Thank you… You’re So Perfect-” he starts kissing down you back covering your spine with kisses, his hands find the zip or your dress “Gonna unzip your dress okay? I’m gonna take it off” “Yeah” you say already agreeing with anything he says, he chuckles, his hand unzips your dress nice and slow while his eyes trace every detail of your back… moles, marks, tattoos, anything… wait that looks like a constellation… he takes the dress off leaving you only in your bra and panties “This too” he pulls at your bra and you roll your eyes not annoyed at all “alright” he instantly unclasps your bra and you lift yourself so he can take it off, his touch is gentle when he slides the straps down your shoulders… his gaze lingers on your chest and you giggle “My massage” “Oh! Right” He pushes your on your stomach again, his hands dig into your shoulder blades and you make a little sound when his metal hand touches your back, it’s cold and it feels good for some reason “There’s a knot here” he says and pushes deeper to massage your skin, you moan and his ears perk up at the sound but he pushes those thoughts to the back of his head for your own sake and his “Ani… that feels really good” “I know” he says cockily and keeps working his magic, suddenly his hands grip your ass and you gasp “You’re tense here too” he massages the skin and you actually think you’re muscles are grateful… the feeling want to make your thighs squeeze Not now You think.

10 minutes later he’s done and you’re actually sleepy, he takes one of your sweaters out of your drawer and you try to put it on but he does it for you, unfortunately his hand tickles your ribs and you giggle, he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes… “Would you like to watch a movie” he kisses your neck and you close your eyes “Sure!” You beam, “Okay… I’ll make the pop corn” he keeps kissing you and you think he might never stop and make the damn pop corn, though you’re not sure you want him to stop you whimper and your breathing heaves “I’ll go now… promise” however he keeps kissing you and you take the chance to tickle his ribs, he cackles and takes the queue to leave.

You realize you still have makeup on your face and you curse at yourself, feeling lazy to take it off but going to the bathroom and washing your face no matter how much you wanna eat pop corn and get into his arms you want.. he comes back 5 minutes later with the bowl of pop corn and two drinks… you beam at the sight of snacks and he chuckles “Are you happy to see me or the popcorn?” “Both”

“We’re watching Bribery” you say simply “Whatever” he says clearly not happy with your choice but happier nonetheless to be here, he thinks it’s cute how much you like this shitty movie… you nuzzle into his arms and 40 minutes later you’re starting to fall asleep.

“It’s time to sleep love” “Nuh uh” you say with your eyes already closed “What why not?” He asks curiously, your body says otherwise

“You still haven’t fucked me, date night it’s not over” you say boldly and he cackles

“It’s alright love, I’ll promise I’ll fuck you in the morning”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

He stays up for a little after you fell asleep, admiring your features and tracing them gently with his knuckle, careful to not harm you, to not wake you up or disturb you in any way “I love you… more than anything in the entire universe…” something sparked inside him watching your sleep so vulnerable and with your guard completely down, trusting him completely.. “And I would never let something bad happen to you…” he kisses your forehead and stares at you with pure adoration in his eyes… he truly loves you… he tries to find a word bigger than that to state his love for you but the sleepiness is finally getting to him too…

“G’night” he mutters and lastly kisses your nose.

masterslist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers- @i92-93

[221bshrlocked]

i remember...

Pairings: Captain Rex x afab! Jedi Reader

Words: 8579

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Mutual Pining. Some mention of blood loss but it’s not graphic. Love Confessions due to anesthesia-like fluids. I make up some random stuff about bacta so just ignore that bit please. Sad Rex. Heated Make-Out Session. Oral (female receiving). Squirting. Oversensitivity. Biting. Slight Dirty Talk. Penetrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap the shlong before you king kong my dudes). Breeding Kink. Creampie. Rex being a gentleman after sex. 

Summary: “You’re s-safe, thank the Force.” His hold on you tightens when you hiss in pain, but you never once turn away from him, wanting to commit every moment to memory. If you survive this, you are sure you will never come this close to him again. But if you die, oh, if you die, then you would have spent your last seconds showing him how much he means to you. 

A/N: This is for @imarvelatthestars​ who is also taking part in the @cloneficgiftexchange​. I hope you enjoy this and I can’t wait for you to read the two other fics as well. Also, hi it’s nice to meet you :) This was originally going to be just fluff but my hands slipped and they went all the way so I hope you don’t mind. P.S. This is the first time I write for our dear Captain so I hope I got his character down correctly. If not, please let me know how I can write him better. As always, reblogs are appreciated. 

It was becoming unbearable, mustering up the courage to fight every day in a war that meant absolutely nothing, that held no benefits for anyone except for those in political standings. The feeling of dread only worsened in the past few months, almost as soon as you were added to the 501st as another General. Count Dooku’s thirst for blood has increased, and you had this fear that it wasn’t only him. No, there was something much bigger playing at hand. 

Perhaps someone even. 

Shaking the dreadful thoughts aside, you scan the grounds quickly to see if any of your men were still alive. As you walk through the carnage, you will yourself to come to terms with the reality of this new life that has been thrust upon you, the recognition that it was most likely worse for your men making you wince angrily before returning to the task at hand. 

“General,” the familiar voice of your Captain shifts your attention behind you, and you nod with an exasperation you’re sure is visible to him as you head towards his equally fatigued body. 

“Any news on whether Anakin managed to get the intel?” You rub the side of your temple as you wait for Captain Rex to focus on you instead of his dead brothers surrounding you. 

“He uh, he didn’t get there in time. He thinks one of the super tactical droids destroyed everything before it self-destructed.” You can hear the disappointment in his voice, and you look into his eyes for a moment to gauge his reaction. Grief swims in his eyes as he returns your gaze, and you hate that you don’t have to look at him to know what’s going through his mind. His Force signature is a cool shade of blue, one that parallels the lines adorning his armor, and your heart clenches when you see how different it is from the normally calming purple hue often surrounding him and setting your mind at ease. You’re reminded once again of just how much of a toll this war is taking on him and his brothers, and you turn away from him out of fear of bursting into tears and making matters worse. 

If only you could comfort him beyond what’s deemed appropriate. 

If only you could tell him how you feel. 

“Don’t worry General, we’ll get them next time.” You hate that he’s trying to make you feel better when it is you who should be offering him supporting words. No words manage to part your lips, and you hum at him as you kick one of the battle droids nearby, trying to distract yourself from pushing past those hidden boundaries and embracing him in an attempt to return those affections he so clearly pushed upon you. 

Just as you walk around him, you sense a strange feeling overtake your mind, and you glance to the side quickly, not really thinking of what you’re doing as you step in front of the Captain and activate your lightsaber. The sequence of the blaster shots drives your anger deeper, and you evade them to the best of your abilities, away from Rex and yourself until they each hit the battle droid attempting to kill you. 

Scanning the area one last time, your mouth runs dry when you turn around and watch pure and utter shock display as clear as daylight on your Captain’s features. Pushing the weapon back into the holster around your hips, you smile at him to let him know that he would always be safe with you, only to tilt your head in confusion when he doesn’t return the gesture. You follow his line of sight and watch as the adrenaline of the battle leaves your body and makes way for a searing hot pain shooting through your side. Pushing your palm against your hip, you take it away and find it laced with fresh blood.

“C-Commander?” 

In all the time you have spent with Rex, you have never once heard him display such unadulterated fear, not when he was near death all those months ago, nor when he thought there was no escape for him and his brothers after a particularly draining battle. 

“Rex.”

You whisper his name as you fall to your knees, but strong arms reach for you before you hit the ground, turning you over and pushing violently against the wound to prevent it from bleeding. 

“Kriff, why- why would you…you shouldn’t have-” He can’t get a single word out, and you try your best to set aside the pain shooting through your body so you can enjoy being in his arms. You feel your muscles give out, barely allowing you to reach up and caress his cheek. You don’t realize you’ve painted his beautiful skin with blood until you see tears rolling down his cheeks and stream a pink line to his chin. 

“You’re s-safe, thank the Force.” His hold on you tightens when you hiss in pain, but you never once turn away from him, wanting to commit every moment to memory. If you survive this, you are sure you will never come this close to him again. But if you die, oh, if you die, then you would have spent your last seconds showing him how much he means to you. 

“Stay with me, mesh’la.” He leans down and rests his forehead against your own, distracting you enough before he lifts you in his arms and runs to the nearest gunship. You clutch onto his shoulder like your life depends on it, unable to hold back from crying as each movement sends throbbing stabs down your spine and across your hip. You can faintly hear his apologies, and you rest your head against his shoulder to distract yourself once again. This close, you can smell his natural scent, and you shiver when you recognize how musky and sweet it is as it seeps through your senses. 

You think you hear him call for Kix, but you can’t stay awake for much longer, the blood loss and your body’s fatigued nature taking over as soon as you get on the gunship. Rex puts you down with ease, but he snaps your name harshly when he sees you shutting your eyes and going limp in his arms again. 

“Don’t close your eyes,” it’s his Captain voice, and you laugh at the demanding tone he’s aiming at you, only to cough violently and clutch at your side when your body jolts forward. 

“I thought I g-give the orders here?” He doesn’t bother to smile at you, and you hate that he knows you’re only trying to diffuse the tension. When you look up at him, you find him frowning down at you, the blue aura around him now turning even darker as he looks around to see if Kix is nearby. 

You gulp as the ship comes to life, and the harder you try to remain awake, the more tired your mind becomes. As you look around you, you find several of the men staring at you with worry etched on their features, and you feel a sense of peace wash over you at the thought of being so important to them. You can no longer keep yourself conscious, and just as you turn your head to the side and see Kix jumping into the gunship, you surrender to a deep sleep filled with midnight blue embraces and loving words. 

A bright light wakes you from your haze, and you flutter your eyes quickly to get used to the blinding rays shining down on you. You try to get up immediately but a hand to your shoulder keeps you laying down, and you look to the side to see Kix whispering calming words to you. 

“You nearly gave us a fright Commander,” he says after a while, and you look around to try and figure out where you are, only to find an extremely uncomfortable and worried Captain standing by your bed. 

“Rex…”

“What were you thinking, hmm?” He snaps harshly at you, making you furrow your eyebrows in curiosity before you turn to Kix. Before you can say anything, Kix walks around and pushes Rex’s chest, urging him to move back and calm himself. 

“You may be the Captain, but I outrank you here. I will not have you yelling at one of my patients. Understand?” His tone is firm, and you giggle at the thought of hearing one of Rex’s men not minding getting physical with him. 

“I…feel weird.” You sigh deeply and look down, only to see several tubes coming in and out of your skin. 

“That would be the Bacta IV. You weren’t doing so well Commander, a simple bacta patch wouldn’t have done the trick.” Kix removes himself from Rex but remains in between the two of you, checking on the needles one last time before moving to the other end of the room. You watch as he makes himself busy, and whatever conscious part of your mind thinks that he’s only pretending so he can give the two of you some privacy. 

“To answer your question Captain, I- uhhh…I wasn’t thinking.” You drag the sheets down your body, suddenly feeling flushed as Rex continues to stare at you with a fiery anger you never thought him capable of. 

“Actually, that’s…n-not true. I was thinking…but- you know what I mean.” You are not making much sense, and when Rex sighs before pulling up a chair to sit next to you, you smile at you and reach for his hand. He takes it reluctantly but never once looks at you. Neither of you say anything for a while, and you slowly begin to fall asleep when he continues to rub your wrist with his thumb. 

“What were you thinking mesh’la…”

It’s a rhetorical question, or at least, you would have recognized that it is had you been more aware and less drugged. You open your eyes and gaze into his own, finding them filled with unshed tears. He looks defeated, and you frown at him while you tug on his hand to bring him closer to you. 

“Don’t…don’t cry. It makes me sad to see you cry Rex.”

He chuckles then and you smile at him, rubbing the back of his hand in return to soothe him a little. 

“I was thinking of you, and- and how it would kill me if I were to lose you. I can’t lose you Rex, I- I would not survive another day without you…I love you too much to let you go.” You’re not sure why the room is suddenly silent. All you know is, Rex’s Force signature has turned a deep shade of red and his fingers stopped drawing patterns on your skin. You think you hear Kix turn around but you’re too busy looking into the Captain’s eyes to register anything that’s not him. 

“Mesh’la,” you want to ask him what the word means, but your eyes grow heavy yet again, and you rest your cheek on the pillow while gazing into his hazel, brown orbs. Before you can say anything else, you fall right back to sleep, completely missing Rex’s reaction to your confession and Kix’s reassurances that you were stable but required to rest further. 

You dream of a time filled with peace, of longing gazes and soft caresses. Your mind fills your heart with hopes and wishes, ones you pretend are not impossible to reach. Your heart, once guarding a close-kept secret, finally feels as light as a feather, and it clenches softly when it hears revelations of a similar love, words yo uneven thought would be reciprocated as desperately. 

It’s this last sensation that wakes you again, except this time, you’re less dazed than before but much more awake. Sitting up quickly, you study the room you’re in and take a few deep breaths to try and collect your bearings. 

“Commander, you’re safe. You’re alive and safe. Breathe, breathe for me.” You look up and watch as Kix guides you through breathing techniques, and only when you’re relaxed and aware of your surroundings do you finally notice the other figure standing nearby. 

“How long have I been out?” You ask as you look down and move the medbay gown to the side to see the wound. It’s fully healed and you throw Kix a quick glance, silently thanking him for everything that he has done for you. 

“Almost 22 hours, sir. It’s quite remarkable actually, most people would take much longer to heal, even with the bacta. Then again, you’re a Jedi after all.” He checks your vitals, not bothering to mention that Rex is in the room. When he’s sure you’re all clear, he steps aside and finishes some reports on his holopad. You look to your right and watch as Rex slowly approaches you, sitting down on a chair near your bedside and slowly reaching for your hand. You’re surprised by the gesture but don’t deny him, looking back to Kix to see if he is aware of what his Captain is doing. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like a bantha ran me over,” you laugh at your own reply, but Rex doesn’t grace you with a hint of a smile. There is something nagging at the back of your mind, and you narrow your eyes at your joined hands, only to gasp lightly when he rubs your wrist and moves closer to you. If Kix notices what’s happening, he says nothing and turns around to give you some privacy. 

“Do you…do you remember anything?” Rex asks reluctantly, and you get the sense that he wants to tell you something but is holding back out of fear of your reaction. 

“I remember walking through the battle, and…and talking with you. I remember a droid trying to shoot at you but I took him down before he hurt you. And…I remember getting shot at.” You recollect the events of the last rotation to the best of your abilities, and when you stop speaking, you notice Rex’s aura shift to a cool haze once more. 

Kriff, what was it? 

“You don’t remember anything else?” He asks yet again, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, his tone of voice bordering that of a man who has just lost everything he ever had. 

“I- I uhh…no. I don’t.” You shake your head several times to figure out if he was referring to anything specific. When you turn to Kix to ask him if he knows what his Captain is talking about, you notice an apologetic expression on his features, one that was not aimed at you but his brother. Before you can say anything, Rex lets go of your hands, making you wish you can give him whatever answer he was searching for. 

“I see,” it’s all Rex says before he stands up and pushes the chair back to the wall. You watch as he takes a stance and salutes you, his eyes never meeting your own again as he thanks you for saving him before running out of the room. You don’t turn away from the shut door until Kix walks by and checks your vitals again. 

There is so much you want to ask him, but knowing Kix, you get the sense that he wouldn’t tell you even if you begged. He was good at keeping secrets, always has been. 

“You’re cleared to leave General, though I do suggest you take it easy for the next few days. You may have physically healed but the psychological strain will take longer to get back to normal. Will you be needing any pain medication?” Kix asks as he takes out all of the needles and tubes from your arms, and you shake your head while you look up at him, hoping that you find whatever answer Rex was looking for swimming in his eyes. He avoids your gaze altogether, and you shut your eyes in irritation at the thought of upsetting Rex. 

Maker, what was it?

You do your best to not take your frustration out on Kix as you get dressed, and before you leave, you thank him for taking care of you for the past rotation. He offers you his best wishes before returning to his seat and you make your way back to your quarters in the Jedi Temple slowly, all the while trying to figure out what transpired that made Rex ask you several times if you remembered anything, but more importantly, what you could have possibly said that upset Rex so much and made him leave without sparing you a second glance. 

You keep to yourself as you head to your rooms, searching your mind for any clue as to what has happened after the battle. When you finally make it to the privacy of your space, you remove all of your clothes and go straight to the refresher, wanting to get rid of the blood and grime that has stuck to your skin for the past day. But no matter what you do, you can’t remember anything past the battlefield, and you feel your mind almost collapse on itself when the annoyance of memory loss turns into sheer anger. 

Force above, what was it?

It occurs to you much later than you would care to admit that there was no way you can recall anything if you’re this unstable, and against your better judgment, you make your way to one of the meditation rooms instead of getting some rest as Kix suggested. As soon as you enter the quiet place, you move near one of the fountains, finding the consistent sound of water soothing to your soul. As you sit down, you take a few deep breaths and clear your mind of anything not related to the Captain of the 501st. 

As you initially thought, it’s much more difficult to focus your mind when all you can feel is guilt for making Rex feel so disappointed and sad. You recall back all of the conversations you’ve held with him, especially the ones that lasted for an entire night as you kept watch before a serious battle. You remember the snide remarks aimed at Anakin, and the jokes he often laughed at the expense of Ahsoka. You remember and remember…

But no matter what you think of, you still can’t quite figure out what happened in the past rotation. 

Willing yourself to focus harder, you decide to empty your mind altogether, even of those moments with Rex that you cherished and kept closely-guarded within your heart. 

The Coruscanti sun slowly moves past the horizon but you remain seated against the flowing waters, pleading with the Force to give you a sliver of a hint so you can fix whatever wrong you made against Rex. 

It’s only when your senses finally still do you see a faint dark red pass through your mind’s eye. You zero in on the memory, pushing yourself past your levels of comfort to seek out the desperate aura once again. 

I was thinking of you.

Your voice rings through your mind, not sounding normal to your ears, but you are confident it is your own. Clenching your fists tightly, you seek out the memory until it flashes before your eyes as clear as the searing Twin Suns on a hot Tatooine day. 

I can’t lose you Rex.

A faint sensation passes down your arm to your wrist, and you feel Rex’s thumb halt in its movement the more you reveal to him your secret. You can see his hands shaking as you pull him closer to you, the words spilling from your mouth making your heart skip a beat as realization washes over you. 

I love you too much to let you go.

The last image flashing before your eyes is the look of utter shock that befalls Rex’s handsome features, and had it not been for the soft manner in which he whispers that one word to you in return, you would think he was completely repulsed by what you just confessed to him. 

You open your eyes instantly, wincing yet again when your senses become overloaded with the sounds and scents all around you. Looking around the room, you take a few minutes to come to terms with the reality of what has transpired between yourself and the Captain. 

Maker. 

You had told him what you promised yourself you would never reveal to him. 

In a moment of weakness, your heart decided to reveal its deepest secret instead of continuing to keep it hidden. 

Looking outside the large glass windows, you notice how dark it became outside and curse yourself for taking so long to remember. It would be inappropriate to go to him now.

You look down to your hand and trace the skin Rex has touched all those hours ago, smiling to yourself when you recognize that your heart has already made the decision for you. 

Not caring for how mad you must look, you race outside of the meditation rooms and run through the hallways of the Temple, ignoring the strange and concerning looks from the others still awake as you make it past the gates of your home and towards the barracks of the 501st Legion. It is raining uncontrollably outside, and you nearly lose your footing a few times as you run across the grounds towards the familiar building near the Jedi Temple. You see a handful of men hanging outside the barracks, and they try to call out to you to see if you need any assistance, but you pay them no mind, heading straight to the quarters of the Captain and ignoring how soaked you’ve become in your journey to him. 

When you reach the hallways housing the Clone leaders, you slow down and move past the doors silently, praying to the maker that he was in his quarters and not elsewhere. As you reach the end of the hallway, you come to a stop in front of the large, steel doors housing Rex, and before you can think twice of what you’re doing, you push a few buttons on the pad beside the doors, waiting patiently for them to slide open to you. 

There is a faint sound of frustrated sighs from behind the door, and you nearly laugh at the sudden turn of events, but the doors slide open and reveal an extremely tired and irritated Clone Captain, one that had just gotten out of the showers from the looks of it. 

“Fives, if I have to tell you one more time- kriff, G-General!” His eyes widen in horror at the sight of you, and he walks out to the hallway to see if there are any signs of danger that led you to him. When he finds it as empty as ever, he turns back around and eyes you suspiciously. 

“General, what- what are you doing here?” Rex asks, continuing to avoid your gaze as he moves back to his quarters and tugs you along with him. You realize too late that you probably shouldn’t be found at such an odd hour in your Captain’s private rooms, but you brush the thought aside, knowing that this could not wait for another time. You don’t respond right away though, and Rex studies you slowly before moving to his dresser and taking out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. 

“Here, change into these.” He throws the articles of clothing towards you, but you throw them back on the bed instantly, approaching him slowly to avoid scaring him. 

“Captain.” You try to catch his attention, but Rex is adamant on not sparing you a single glance, moving to the other end of the room and grabbing one of his shirts before putting it on quickly. 

“I don’t mind General,” he attempts to distract you, and you shake your head at him while following him around the small room. 

“Captain, please.”

“You’re going to catch a cold, and I’m not going to hear the end of it from Kix.” Rex ignores whatever you’re saying and rubs his temples furiously, making you wish he would just look at you instead of avoiding you as if you were just another commanding officer. 

As if you hadn’t spilled your heart out to him a day ago. 

Your frustrations nearly get to you, but you quickly come to understand that the man in front of you would continue ignoring your pleas if you didn’t cut to the chase and tell him what you came here for. 

“I remember.” 

Rex stops in his pacing, dropping his arms to his side and looking at the gray wall ahead of him. He doesn’t move a muscle, and your heart skips a beat when the hue around him turns into that familiar shade of burgundy once more, the same one that graced your sight when you told him how much you love him. 

“I remember, Rex.”

You repeat your words and watch as he slowly turns around and meets your eyes in a heated gaze. He continues to remain silent and you take the chance to step closer to him, hoping that he doesn’t get spooked by your revelation and walk away again. 

“You- you remember?” His question is laced with a faltering anxiety that you hate you’ve caused him to feel, and you close the last bit of space between the two of you, smiling at him as you reach for his hand and rub your thumb over his wrist. 

“I remember…I remember everything Rex.” 

He gulps down at you, watching carefully as you extend his wrist up to your mouth and lay the softest of kisses across the sensitive skin beneath your thumb. His sharp intake of breath sends a shiver down your spine, and before you can say anything else, Rex pushes you back against the nearest wall and attacks your lips in a desperate kiss. You moan into him immediately, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he leans down and grabs your hips to hoist you up in between his rigid body and the solid wall behind you. 

You part your lips in a gasp and Rex takes advantage of your shock, sneaking his tongue into your mouth and devouring you without a care for anything except the lewd noises you are gracing him with. He doesn’t know where he can touch you, but as he feels your nail sink into his neck, he breaks the kiss and moans your name over and over again, giving you but a moment of respite before lunging for your mouth once again. You’re soaking wet, and you want to warn him so he doesn’t get wet as well, but he doesn’t let up once, moving down your jaw and licking the droplets of water sticking to your skin. His tongue feels hot against your already flushed skin, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain, not when you finally had him in your arms, stealing your breath with such needy kisses. You don’t realize you’re crying until he pulls away abruptly and looks at you with concern. 

“No, please…don’t stop. I’m just- I’m so happy.” You try to bring him back again but he’s much stronger than you, keeping some bit of distance between your mouth until he can ask you that burning question. 

“Are you sure I’m not hurting you, mesh’la?”

“No, gods no. I never thought you’d reciprocate my feelings Rex, and- and when I remembered the way you looked at me, I…I ran over here.” Your smile grows when you notice the soft smirk gracing his handsome features, and you lean your forehead against his own briefly to relish in the moment. 

“I love you, cyare…so damn much. I- I thought I lost you back there…couldn’t, couldn’t believe what you did for me. And then you told me why and I nearly lost my mind all over again.” He lays as many kisses as possible across your entire face, making you sniffle each time he reveals to you what was going through his mind. 

“I love you too Rex, have been ever since I joined your legion.” The sentiment manages to put a halt to his words and he looks at you for what you deem is too long before leaning down and taking your lips in between his own again. It’s much less frantic than before, but it is just as deeply felt, and you tilt your head to the side to deepen it further, whining against him when he removes the both of you from the wall and walks back to his bed. 

He lays you down softly and continues to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, swearing beneath his breath when you reach for his shirt and try to remove it off of him.

“Rex, what- oh kriff, what does that word mean?” You manage to ask in between each kiss and nip he marks your body with, whispering his name over and over again when he chuckles at you and sits up to remove his shirt. You bite into your lower lip as soon as he reveals his broad chest to you, giggling like a little girl as Rex throws his shirt aside and drags his hand up and down your body. 

“Why don’t I show you sweetheart?” The Captain descends down upon you possessively, dragging his hands everywhere with an aggressiveness you’ve never seen him display before. He has you whimpering in the span of a few minutes, and with each bit of fabric he rips from your body, you’re left wishing he would put you out of your misery and claim you. 

“Please, Rex.” You beg shamelessly, covering your eyes with your arm when you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

“Shh, I got you cyar’ika…I got you.” The Captain coos at you as he traces lines up and down your body, passing his fingers in between your thighs teasingly and laughing when he notices goosebumps erupt across your skin. You peak from above your wrist, only to find him studying you closely and with a hunger unseen on his features before. 

“S-stop looking at me like that.” You turn your head to the side when he drags your arms away from your face and places them above your head, making you wish he wasn’t enjoying making you flustered. 

“Like what?” He’s nearly breathless as he asks you the question, not caring for how wanton he looks as he hovers his lips above your sternum before slowly making his way down your stomach. 

“Like…like-” You can’t find the words to tell him what he looks like, mostly because you know he’ll only laugh and reiterate whatever you say in agreement and cause you to feel even more embarrassed at being the subject of his scrutiny. 

“Like I want to eat you? Like I want to devour every fucking inch of you? Like I want to mark you with my teeth and hands until the whole kriffing galaxy knows who’s making you feel good? Is that how I’m looking at you sweet girl?” He pronounces each question with a harsh bite to your skin, smiling wickedly at you as he descends between your thighs and shoves them wide open to make room for himself. 

“Y-yes…I- oh gods please Rex, just- just…”

“I hate to break it to you ner cyare, but I will never,” he growls his need for you against the edge of your panties, biting down and chuckling when you twitch beneath him and reach for his shoulder, “ever,” his voice is much rougher, and you think that perhaps he will kill you through sheer frustration, “ stop looking at you like that.” You whine his name, and as you try to ask him once more to not be so brazen with you, he shoves his nose into your core and breathes in deeply. It’s absolutely filthy, the manner in which he nudges along the damp material hiding you from him while staring directly into your eyes. You shouldn’t be surprised by how far dilated his pupils are, but as you sink your nails into his muscles, you furrow your eyebrows and will yourself to continue staring at him, wanting to ensure that he wants this just as much as you. 

“Rex…please, touch me.” You slide one of your hands up to his cheek, cupping his chiseled jaw beneath your palm out of fear of having him move away. 

“I am touching you, mesh’la.” Rex raises a curious eyebrow at you, nuzzling into your hand when he feels you settle down and whine in frustration. 

“I need more.” You hope he understands what you’re trying to say, but it seems that Rex wants nothing more than to push you over the edge of irritation, huffing out in laughter once as he leans over and kisses your inner thighs. 

“Like this?” He asks, licking the spot he’s kissed before moving to the space just below your hip and nipping it lightly. “Or like this?” He inquires with a whisper, taking the edge of your panties in between his teeth and pulling them up until he makes sure you’re still looking at him before letting go and smirking at the snapping sound that forces you to jolt your hips into his face. He must be able to see the annoyance etched on your features because as soon as you try to sit up on your elbows and give him a piece of your mind, he drags both of his hands beneath your thighs and hoists them up until you’re perfectly laid out for him. 

“Rex, if you don’t- ahhh fuck,” you throw your head back as soon as you feel the heat of his mouth engulf your wet core. He’s licking you violently through the flimsy fabric of your panties, and when you manage to look down at him through dazed eyes, Rex shoves the material aside and shoves his tongue violently against your clit. You drag your nails across his scalp before you realize how painful it might be, but when you attempt to grab anything else, Rex shakes his head and sucks on your clit before letting go altogether. 

“Don’t fucking stop…mark me baby, mark me so the whole GAR knows who fucks you like the filthy jetii’ika I know you are.” Your eyes widen in shock at his words, amazed that the normally respectful and shy Captain is capable of groaning the filthiest words ever as he goes down on you. You return your hands to his blonde hair, a zap of lightning shooting across your muscles when you feel the buzzed cut tickle your heated skin while he continues to fuck you with his tongue. 

“Rex…oh fuck, you- you feel so good. Please don’t stop…don’t stop Captain!” You don’t mean for the honorific to fall so easily from your lips, and you look down to see if it made him uncomfortable, only to find him staring hungrily at you as he pulls you harder on his face. 

“Is that what you want, cyar’ika? You want me to be your Captain…give you orders and make you cum on my face before I fuck you till you can’t feel your legs?” You know it’s a rhetorical question because he returns his attention to your engorged clit soon after, laying his tongue flat against your bundle nerves as he drools over the fingers resting just below his mouth. You want to watch him as he worships you, commit to memory the desperation filling every muscle of his body as he shows you how much he craves you, but as soon as he eases two of his fingers past your slit and rubs against your walls, you’re shutting your eyes and arching your back at the sudden flash of pleasure that takes over your whole body. 

“Cum for me ner jetii’ika,” the tone of his voice, along with the needy order, are all it takes for you to reach your pleasure, and you dig your nails into his scalp in an attempt to bring him closer to you as you roll your hips back and forth against his mouth. You can’t feel anything except his tongue and his fingers, and you manage to look down through heavy-lidded eyes to watch Rex as he makes you cum. Your body shakes violently when you see his Force signature turn into a bright cloud of red, the shade validating to you the Captain’s feelings as he continues to assault your cunt until you grow oversensitive. 

You try to push him off of you but he is relentless in his mission to pleasure you, wrapping his arms around your hips and pushing down your body until you understand that he won’t be letting you go anytime soon. You feel empty all of a sudden, but then you notice his wet fingers as they grab you through your chest bindings and you feel another wave of ecstasy slowly creep up on you. 

“R-Rex…I-”

“Drench my face, sir.” You’re not sure what it is that coaxes another orgasm out of you, if it is the way he orders you to cum on his mouth again, or the sound of the honorific falling from his lips as he licks and sucks on your clit. You scream his name like a benediction, the sensation he was bringing upon your fatigued body driving you mad with lust. You can faintly hear him moan your name in return, and it’s only when you look down after he’s let up do you realize that you’ve done exactly what he wanted and drenched his face. You should be embarrassed, but as Rex licks at you softly with a lazy smile, you realize that he may have enjoyed this more than you. 

“Oh maker, I- I’ve never…” You try to speak but your voice comes out hoarse, making Rex laugh even harder as he sits up and wipes his face with the back of his hand. 

“That was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen sweetheart…I want you to do it again.” He drags his gaze down your body as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, the same ones that were showing you stars not a moment ago. He looks positively sinful, and you giggle embarrassingly at him before you try to reach for the tent on his sweatpants. 

“No,” he grips your wrist tightly and falls against you, pushing you down into his bed with his whole body before reaching for both of your hands and laying them above your head. You frown at him, unsure why he was denying you the same pleasure he brought upon you. 

“Don’t look so upset, mesh’la.” He winks at you as he kisses down your neck and licks the water droplets sticking to your sternum. You sigh heavily and extend your neck out further to give him more access, the action pleasing him more than you thought it would and making him groan deeply into your breasts. “Believe me when I tell you…if you touch me now, this night will end much earlier than I would like it to.” He sucks bruises across your chest, managing to hold both of your wrists with one hand while the other moves to unbind the wrapping around your breasts. It doesn’t take much to reveal you to his eyes, and when you’re finally freed of the offending article of clothing, Rex growls before ascending upon you, not caring for how rough he’s being as he takes a nipple in between his teeth while he rolls his thumb over the other. 

“Ah f-fuck…Rex, you- your tongue is- oh kriff, I need you Captain…please. I want to feel you, want you to fuck me, hard.”

“Yeah sweetheart?” Rex soothes the love bites with his tongue, swirling the rough muscle around your hardened peak until your chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s memorizing every inch of your skin, and you notice his smile grow deeper when he sees evidence of his claim beginning to appear all over your body. You always imagined him to be possessive with things he enjoyed, but you never thought once you’d be at the receiving end of such dedication, such admiration. 

“Claim me, my dear Captain.” You plead one last time, tilting your head down to try and kiss the top of his head in an attempt to make him lose control. The gesture does the trick, and Rex ascends up your body and takes your lips in between his own, ripping the breath out of your lungs as he sucks and licks into your mouth until you could no longer focus on anything but the sensations he was ringing from your body. You whine and moan for him as he pushes you harder into his sheets, and when you tries to rest his weight on one of his arms, you throw your own around his neck and pull him as flush to you as possible. 

“I want to feel you, all of you.” You whisper the request against his cheek, kissing his jaw lightly in anticipation for what comes next. When you sense his hand moving down your body, you nip across his neck and mirror his actions from earlier, distracting him on his journey just as he did with you not a moment ago. 

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re going to be the death of me.” Rex groans against your forehead as he struggles to pull the edge of his sweatpants down his hips. It becomes very clear to him soon that you weren’t going to let up on marking his skin, and he sighs in irritation before deciding to pull his cock out from underneath the band of his pants. 

“Please Rex,” you urge him with soft pleas and wet kisses, laying your head back to look into his eyes as he pushes aside your panties and rubs your clit with the hard tip of his cock. 

“Are you ready for me, cyare?” Rex asks, furrowing his eyebrows in focus so as to not hurt you. You nod frantically at him, widening your legs even further to allow him to settle more comfortably in between your thighs. 

“Fuck me, Captain.” You breathe against his quivering lips, sighing in relief when the crown of his dick catches at your wet entrance. 

“Yes, sir!” It’s all the warning you get before Rex thrusts his throbbing cock into your cunt, and you watch with fascination as the aura shadowing over the two of you becomes an even deeper shade of red, one that mixed perfectly with his normally blue hue and created a soothing new wave to your eyes. 

Neither of you move, looking into the other’s eyes to ensure that this was actually happening. 

Rex struggles to breathe, and you massage his neck with your fingers before shifting your hips to get closer to him. The movement sends his cock gliding against your clenching walls, and you both moan the other’s name as you feel pure ecstasy take over your spirits. 

“You- you feel…” Rex tries to speak, but he loses focus of the sentence, instead moving all of his attention into committing this moment to memory. 

“Perfect.” You finish his thought, leaning up and kissing his lips once before relaxing back into the mattress and silently urging him to move. When he pulls out of you and pushes back in slowly, you realize that you’ll never get enough of this. 

Enough of him. 

And from the way he was gazing down at you, it seems that the feeling was mutual. 

“Rex, just- I want you to cum. I don’t care about me, I only w-want to feel you cum.” You cross your legs behind his back to bring him deeper inside you, the action forcing a cry from his lips that sounds awfully like your name. You giggle beneath him, pride feeling your chest at being the one to bring him to such pleasure. 

“I- I’ll be damned if you don’t cum on my cock at least once tonight, mesh’la.” The promise is accompanied with a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you gulp nervously at him, shutting your eyes to relish in the feeling of being so full. Each thrust brings about a fresh wave of arousal to your core, and you dig your nails into his back to show him just how good he’s making you feel. The delicious drag of his cock across your tight walls nearly makes you question whether this was all real, not because you didn’t expect him to feel so perfect inside you, but because he was so much better than your imagination. 

His grunts are music to your ears, and you leave a trail of kisses across face the closer he gets to his peak, wanting him to scream your name when he finally cums and claims you. It’s a battle of needs at this point, with your minds telling you to make this last as long as possible but your joined bodies screaming for a sweet release. You can feel every inch of him, every hard vein slide against your fluttering walls the harder he fucks into you. 

There is so much on your mind, so much you want to tell him, but you’re not coherent enough to remotely breathe out a string of affirmations to him, so you instead look back into his eyes and hope he can see right through you, recognize every bit of your heart that has always screamed his name since they day you met. 

“I- I won’t last much longer, cyar’ika.” He manages to confess as he thrusts become harder, deeper, more intimate. You shake your head and whisper your lack of care for what he just said, wanting him to finally mark you as his own and fill you with his seed. There’s something inherently faithful about wanting him to fuck his cum inside you, a sensation you’re aware would scream your devotion to each other but is against every rule set in place for someone like you…someone like him as well, 

But you can’t find it in yourself to care, not when Rex was finally sinking so sweetly into your pussy over and over again until you couldn’t think of anything else but how utterly divine he felt as he joined your bodies with a string of unparalleled pleasure. 

“Ner jetii’ika, I- I’m…oh kriff, where do I-”

“Inside me, please!” You cut him off, swallowing his moans as he shakes above you while bringing one of his hands in between your bodies, the sudden touch of his digits against your oversensitive clit making you arch your back into his chest and part your lips for him. He grunts several times while rubbing your hardened bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around your own when he feels you clench harshly around him. You shudder beneath him, unable to fathom the sensations he was pulling from you so easily, so exquisitely. Just as you break the kiss to breathe, Rex growls your name in between expletives, shoving his cock into you a few times before finally coming undone. Your pleasure lasts for longer than you thought possible, the feeling of his seed painting your walls and oozing out of you somehow making you feel even more attuned to his pleasure, as if his ecstasy was connected to your own and refused to part from it. He bucks his hips into you with shallow thrusts, resting his forehead against your chest as he slowly comes down from the brief high. 

You’re both too dazed to move a single muscle, and when you try to unwrap your legs from around him, Rex hisses in surprise at feeling your pussy flutter around him one last time. He finally sits up to look at you, and you watch as the smirk on his face grows with each bit of skin he sees adorned with his touch. 

“So…all of that means ‘mesh’la’?” You break the silence and laugh along with him when he finally catches on to what you’re referring to, only to hiss in discomfort when he pulls out of you and leaves you empty. You watch as Rex reluctantly sits up and shoves your thighs apart to look at the mess he’s made of you. You want to shake your head at him, call him disgusting for being so obvious with what he’s done to you, but when you find him biting his lips and staring at you with newfound lust, you realize that teasing him may not be the best idea now. 

“Fuck cyare, you look beautiful.” You giggle as you hide behind your arms once more, making Rex tease you about your shy bedside manner when he was literally fucking you into kingdom come not a moment ago. He gets up and walks to the refresher, quickly coming back to you to clean you up so you don’t have to move much. You can’t help but look at him with adoration as he rubs every inch of your skin. He’s careful and patient with you, taking his time to caress your skin before throwing the towel aside and reaching for one of his shirts to hand you. 

“Why give me a shirt when you know you’ll take it off of me in another hour?” You ask him teasingly, laughing hysterically when he throws it aside and shoves his sweatpants down his thighs. 

Your eyes shift to his cock instantly, and you marvel at how thick and long he is…and the fact that he was already starting to get hard again. 

“To even the field,” he winks at you as he slips beneath the covers and pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you before dimming down the lights. 

You sit in silence for what feels like hours, drawing patterns on his beautiful, bronze chest while he rubs your shoulder and back to soothe your body. It’s only after a while that Rex finally breaks the quiet air of the room and looks down at you, waiting until you meet his eyes before he finally tells you what he’s wanted to say for so long. 

“I would rather die than let anything happen to you, ner cyare. You know that right?” He says, matter-of-factly, and you sense a sliver of anxiety fill his otherwise calm aura for a brief moment before it evaporates into thin air. 

“I know darling, and you know by now that the feeling is mutual.” It’s not what he wants to hear, that you are sure of, but you can’t find it in yourself to lie to him, wanting him to know that you care for him just as much as he cares for you. 

“I guess both of us are going to be stubborn about this.” He shakes his head and leans over to kiss your forehead before resting back against the pillow once more. 

“You bet your sweet ass.” You retort immediately, yelping in shock when he pinches your shoulder and sends you closer into his chest. 

“You haven’t even seen my ass, sweetheart.” He snorts at your comeback, glancing down at you for a moment before shutting his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you so willing and relaxed in his arms. 

“Oh, believe me Captain, I have seen your ass…and I fucking love it.”

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 1

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: slow burn(ish), fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

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A/N: In my unending quest to name all of my fics after The Amazing Devil songs, this one is taken from Elsa's Song. If you're reading this on Tumblr, you're getting a unique version of this author's note - hello there! I usually just link to my fics on Tumblr, but this time I've decided to post each chapter in full here!

Any and all comments are massively appreciated, and if I can format anything better for posting here please let me know. I'm aiming to have the next chapter up in 2-3 weeks :)

Huge thanks to my wonderful friend @whenyourfavouritedies (link to their AO3 here!) for beta reading.

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He’d had a good run, Cody thinks to himself as he faces down the adversary in front of him. Perhaps he could avoid the mortal embarrassment of defeat by defenestrating himself from the nearest window - at least then his death could be ruled as a bizarre, impulsive moment of pure lunacy rather than the alternative of being done in entirely by the man in front of him.

… The man in front of him who evidently seems to be expecting a response to his words. 

Cody, the Marshal Commander of the 212th who has spoken in front of the Council multiple times, who’s renowned throughout the GAR for his prowess at quick-thinking and strategy, desperately tries to muster something. Gingerly, he collects the shattered pieces of his brain from the floor, and attempts to produce something coherent with them.

“... Oh,” he manages, trying to not let his words come out as strangled as it feels like they could in this moment. “Right.”

As it turns out, those two words alone are insufficient, at least judging by Obi-Wan’s look of pure bewilderment. The Jedi tilts his head a little, studying the clone before him.

“Is everything alright, Cody?” he asks tentatively, before glancing back to the mission briefing on his datapad. Cody’s eyes remain glued to one word in particular, practically glaring at him from the harshly backlit screen of the tablet. 

He can feel a headache coming on. 

“If it’s too much, Anakin has offered to spare Rex, but to be perfectly honest–” 

Absolutely not. The only thing Cody can think of that would be worse than going on this mission at all would be someone else going in his place.

“-- I’d rather avoid a repeat of what happened on Corellia, if at all possible,” Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking a hand over his beard. He frowns slightly at the memory, and Cody files the subject away to ask about later, though for the moment he has far more pressing matters to address.

“Right,” Cody repeats, before finally remembering that he does, in fact, know how to string words into a sentence. His eyes snap up from the datapad, meeting his General’s gaze. Discomfort claws its way through his body, constricting his throat a little when he tries to gather himself. “Yes, sir. I’m just wondering, about the aliases-”

Obi-Wan huffs, clearly having his own strong opinion on whatever he thinks Cody is about to say. “Yes, well, I appreciate that the backstories aren’t as detailed as they could be. I did mention it, but the Council did what they could on such short notice.”

“Of course. I’m just wondering if we have to be–”

“Really, it’s a miracle that they even had anything planned, knowing them.”

“-- Married?”

Obi-Wan blinks, and a long silence stretches between the two men. He studies Cody’s face again for a moment, before he looks back down at the datapad, his brow furrowed slightly as if he’s only just considering the implications of the mission for the first time. 

Cody stands, steady as ever, though behind his back his fingers twitch anxiously. From the Jedi's telling, it’s going to be a fairly quick undercover stint - a handful of days at most. They’ll be staying at a hotel-slash-resort out in a neutral system, where they’ve been tipped off that a handful of Separatists are meeting for a business deal that could debilitate the Republic if it goes off smoothly.

A tad dramatic, perhaps, but when intel like that is received, the Jedi have to ensure that the call to action is answered. And who better to answer it with than one of their best? 

Unfortunately for Cody, the Jedi’s best has a penchant for dragging him along, too.

This type of mission might be incredibly rote for the General, but for Cody, it’s… An intimidating prospect. He’s a soldier, a strategist - a damned good one at that, there’s a reason he’s been given the position of Commander - if there’s one thing he is decidedly not, however, it's an actor.

It’s likely that the more experienced man hadn’t even given Cody’s involvement a second thought - they’re by each other’s side on most battlefields, after all… This arena, though, is an untrodden one. After some consideration, Obi-Wan quirks a brow and looks back up at his Commander.

“You’re aware that we wouldn’t actually be signing any legal documents for the sake of the mission?” he queries, as if that were at all the issue Cody is having here. Stars, but does this man like to play dense sometimes.

“... That’s not the point, sir.”

“Then what is? Do you not think I would make a fine husband? My dear Commander, you wound me.”

Cody has the quiet suspicion that if anyone had the fortune to wed his General (not that the Jedi were even allowed such things), they would find themselves spending a considerable portion of the rest of their lives having to put up with his unfortunate sense of humour. 

As it happens, Cody is the one who’s taking the burden for that responsibility at current. It’s been slowly driving him up the wall for the better part of the war effort.

“I’m sure you would make a good–” no, that’s not appropriate, “a fine–” he stops short, glowering at the amused smirk that has plastered itself on his General’s face. Obi-Wan seems to be garnering a little too much delight in causing him to stammer like a schoolchild, the victorious glint in his eye evident. Cody shakes his head, persisting despite the flush that he’s sure has appeared on his cheeks. “... You know what I mean.”

Much to Cody’s relief, Obi-Wan takes mercy on him and drops the subject. He glances back down to the datapad with a thoughtful hum, his expression returning to something a little more dignified.

“It was ultimately a logistical choice. We would be sharing a room in the hotel, regardless, and the cover makes it considerably less likely that people would raise questions.” A pause, and then the Jedi’s voice turns a little more gentle. “If it would truly make you uncomfortable, Cody, then we can come up with an alternative.”  

Cody finds himself shaking his head before he even has time to think it through properly. It’s… Fine. He’s fine. The thought of pretending to be Obi-Wan’s… husband, makes something strange curl in his gut, a sense of tightness and discomfort that he can’t quite identify. 

He pushes the feeling away, telling himself that all it is is feeling unsure about going undercover in general - it will be, after all, his first time doing so for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s bluffed to get past guards and to stall enemies, they all have, but he’s practically a shiny in this territory. It makes sense that he’d have some nerves.

“No, I… I’ll take the mission, General. I was just…” he hesitates. He was just what exactly? Cody isn’t entirely certain. “I’ll just need some time to look over the aliases, to prepare. Being undercover is… Not my usual wheelhouse.”

That’s putting it lightly.

“If you’re certain?”

Cody holds the Jedi’s earnest gaze for as long as he can muster with this odd sensation sloshing around in his stomach. He manages a nod, moving to take the datapad from the other man as they prepare to move onto other matters for the morning.

“Yes, sir.”

______________________________

The night before the mission rolls around, Cody finds himself still awake far too late into the night. He’s at his desk, poring over multiple tabs of research, and Stars, there’s still so much to cover before they’re set to leave.

He’s… what is it that an actor would call it? ‘Studying’ the fictional man that is Vidarr Emerin, a wealthy investor who’s gained a frankly ridiculous amount of credits from backing a series of Spice mining projects on Kessel. Vidarr isn’t actually involved in the day to day operations of the creation of the drug directly (and thank the Force for that, because Cody couldn’t realistically describe the process if there was a blaster to his head), though he has his fingers in many metaphorical pies of Kessel’s ‘industry’, if one can call it that. 

Vidarr is ruthlessly efficient, cutthroat, and has more money invested in the black market than Cody has ever seen in his entire life.

His favourite colour, the document notes, is brown.

They’re hoping that, due to the planet they’re travelling to not having seen hide nor hair of the war as of yet, Cody can blend in as a regular human without issue. If he were to be clocked as a clone however, he and Obi-Wan have come up with a story that fits. A benefit of their cover is that if any clone were to defect from the GAR, Kessel would likely be a decent option for them to run to, due to its relative distance from the war and the objective difficulty in getting to the planet. It would be easier if he didn’t have to out himself, but it never hurts to be prepared.

The Commander is about three cafs into his nighttime research, and is showing no sign of slowing, currently skimming through a holonet article about Kessel’s southern equator. He’s trying to take notes on as many details as possible about the habitable section of the planet: the names of local wildlife, parks, various points of interest… It’s unlikely that anyone would want to talk to him about the geography of the local rivers, admittedly, but what if he’s caught out unexpectedly? 

No, Cody reasons to himself, taking another gulp of caf. Not worth the risk. He’ll just have to memorise the relative locations of every tributary and estuary in the local area that Vidarr is from. It’s the only way he can walk into this prepared.

It’s even later when his chrono beeps at him for attention. His eyes have been struggling to focus on the various screens for too long to ignore, and Cody’s attention turns to the empty notepad page to his right. The one that’s been staring him down all evening.

He narrows his eyes at it, sizing the offending object up. One moment passes, then another. The man groans, running a tired hand over his face and silencing his alarm. He may as well get this over with.

He returns his datapad to the page about their aliases, scrolling until he hits the ‘marriage and relationship’ section. Cody pulls the notepad over, reluctantly beginning to scribble down some bullet points. 

Renne Emerin, née Cardall, met Vidarr at a soiree attended by a handful of various small-time investors for the Pyke Syndicate, and the two began courting not long after. Three years into their relationship, they got engaged. A further year, and the two were married. This little trip together is a celebration for their second wedding anniversary.

They have a bonded pair of tookas. They’re considering adopting a child. They’re a regular, normal couple in love.

Cody turns off the datapad, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. 

For the life of him, he doesn’t know why he feels such a mental block in regards to… all of this. Obi-Wan had been incredibly accommodating - between them, they’d laid out expectations, negotiated how they were going to approach this, and the Jedi had promised to not push too hard in the name of making a good cover (though Cody had insisted he not hold back on his account - he’d be damned if his own incompetence compromised a mission).

And yet… The anxious feeling persists. It’s subtler now at least, having spent the last week preparing and researching, but it remains under his skin, simmering away. 

It worsens when he thinks of the marriage they’ll have to upkeep.

His chrono beeps a second time, a harsh, needy trill that tells him he really ought to be getting to bed now. Cody grumbles to himself, turning the blasted alarm off again, before finally flopping down in his bed and flicking off the light to his room.

It’ll be fine, he thinks wearily, forcing himself to take a deep breath and settle his mind. 

If there’s one thing he trusts implicitly in this Galaxy, it’s that Obi-Wan will have his back. Discomfort be damned, they’ll get through this in one piece. Soon enough, this’ll just be a funny story to tell when sufficiently drunk.

Clinging onto that thought like it holds the last vestiges of his sanity, Cody drifts into a fitful but desperately needed sleep. 

______________________________

The Commander wakes early, exactly as he was trained. A fast shower, an efficient shave, and his bed made neatly behind him as he dresses.

At 0600 hours exactly, he leaves his quarters, fully clad in his newly issued armour - shiny, pristine, bright white plastoid that catches in the harsh, fluorescent lighting lining the hallways of the Venator. He is precisely as he should be: the perfect example of what the Kaminoans created.

When he reaches the briefing room, he raps his gloved knuckles against the door once, twice. Cody feels confident as he waits - every single choice he makes matters today, and a good first impression is vital. Yes, he thinks, mulling it over in his mind: a single knock would have been insufficient, and three would be bordering on informal. Two was the right answer, Commander. Good work.

It takes precisely six seconds for the door to slide open, revealing the Jedi he had met briefly before in holocalls, though never face to face. The Jedi he’s going to dedicate his life to. 

Auburn hair catches the light, and clean, cream coloured robes settle tidily about his form. Curious eyes settle on him, inspecting the clone likely as much as the clone is analysing the Jedi. Cody is quietly grateful for his helmet giving him the tactical upper hand in this endeavour.

The blue of the Jedi’s eyes reminds him of the Kaminoan ocean, though he’s unsure whether or not that association is a good or a bad one. The man in front of him looks methodically put together, neat and organised, as a member of the famed Jetii should be… Perhaps a little tired, though, as the faint bags under his eyes might indicate.

Cody decides it doesn’t matter. It’s surely just a sign of his new General’s commitment to his work ethic that he would stay up late to prepare for today. Something they’ll have in common, then.

The Commander’s back is, naturally, ramrod-straight as he salutes sharply, his voice strong and even as he speaks.

“CC-2224, sir. Ready for our briefing.” He knows the Jedi should have remembered his designation number from their fleeting introductions over holocall, but it never hurts to be cautious. The man has a lot to familiarise himself with over the coming days, after all. It wouldn’t be a slight if it took him a while to remember something so small.

General Kenobi pauses at that, before offering a small, if hesitant smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Of course.” He steps aside, allowing the clone entry into the meeting room. It’s a tidy, organised space, yet something about it is almost eerie in its quietude. Cody’s eyes sweep over neat stacks of datapads and consoles with no fingerprints yet on their keyboards, no dust yet accumulated on the cables filling the room. A tactical space, ready to handle and catalogue so much violence and death - years of it, more. 

And yet it is, at present, still and empty. Lying in eager wait for the blood to start spilling, to see the use it has been designed for. Today, the Commander supposes, is the day. 

The General sweeps through the room, posture so exact that it almost makes him look as if he’s gliding rather than walking. He sets up the holotable at the centre of the room, watching as the agenda for the day flickers into being, a list nearly a mile long. General Kenobi scans over the file with a quiet sigh, before he glances over to meet the other man’s gaze.

“Would you care for a cup of caf? I quite find I struggle to focus so early on in the day.”

The Jedi’s voice is gentle, softened at the edges with tiredness - not at all the tone the soldier is used to from authority. Cody frowns to himself. And he’s… Offering him caf. Not an order or command. An unexpected start to their working relationship.

Part of him can’t help but think it could be a trap. A test of how much he’d be willing to take from him, perhaps. A measure of his discipline?

Kenobi looks progressively more awkward as time presses on. He speaks up again, evidently trying to search for any hint of emotion in the clone’s expressionless helmet and drawing a blank.

“Or… Tea?” he tries, tilting his head a little. “I can make tea instead, if that’s more to your liking.”

The Commander hesitates, trying to figure out the right answer to this puzzle in front of him. Would it offend the General if he said no? Could he say no, if he wanted to? How much of a choice does he get here?

Regardless, he can tell his prolonged silence is unnerving his new General, and the last thing he wants is to make a bad impression.

“Caf… Caf is fine, sir. Thank you.” 

That, at least, seems to placate the Jedi. He smiles, a little more sincerely this time, before disappearing off to the corner of the room and busying himself with making some drinks.

Cody takes the opportunity to get a headstart on the agenda for their first day, looking over the list at the holotable with a critical eye. There’s much to do, and he’s anxious to get to it and prove himself.

“Right,” Kenobi begins as he returns, passing a steaming mug to Cody before sipping at his own. “Let us get started, hm?”

The briefing is quick, and efficient. They move through all the matters of the day - introductory training with the men, preparations to oversee supply requisitioning, and early drafts of strategy for the 212th’s first upcoming mission in the field together.

The caf is nicer than he expected.

“Before we go, Commander,” Kenobi says as the two turn to leave for the first training, his tone thoughtful. He looks to the clone in front of him, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes. “I was wondering if I could have your name.”

… What? 

“My… Designation number, sir?” He asks, with a little uncertainty. The Jedi’s mouth twitches - not quite a frown, but something close to it. He attempts to disguise it by passing a hand over his beard. Cody tenses instinctively.

“No, you greeted me with that when you first came in,” he reminds him, voice gentle. “I meant your name. Your actual one.”

CC-2224 glitches. 

He’s not sure how long he just stares at the General, but it’s long enough to prompt Kenobi to speak again.

“... If that would be alright?”

No, no it would be decidedly not alright. This is against everything the Commander was expecting, everything he’s spent his whole life preparing for. He’s almost indignant at the impropriety. As he continues to hesitate, a flash of something like worry flashes across Obi-Wan’s face, followed by a sheepishness unbefitting of someone of his station.

He raises his hand, cutting off Cody as he finally opens his mouth to answer.

“No, no, I apologise, Commander,” he says quickly, sounding a little ashamed. “Names are… important to your brothers, aren’t they?”

At Cody’s stupefied nod, he continues on.

“I should not have asked something so personal of you,” the Jedi murmurs, bowing his head briefly in apology. “Forgive me.”

The Commander doesn’t quite know what to do with that. A brief mumble of ‘it’s alright, sir’, and an evening spent puzzling out who, exactly, his new General is, will have to do.

That night, Cody finds himself staring up at the ceiling as he tries to find sleep.

Perhaps the Kaminoans were wrong about the Jetii. About what would be expected of them. But then, if that’s true, then what else were they wrong about? 

It’s an unnerving thought, and it’s one that plagues him for the coming weeks.

______________________________

In the half-light of the ship’s artificial morning, Cody stares down his reflection in the mirror, wrinkling his nose slightly as he tugs a battle-worn comb through his hair, gently teasing the curls apart. He glances back down to the holonet vid he found, the projector balancing precariously on the edge of the sink. Making a swiping gesture in the air with his free hand, he winds back the video yet another time. The helpful, yet slightly too-fast-speaking Kiffar woman in the vid enthusiastically explains how to loosen one’s curl pattern, and Cody repeats the actions she demonstrates, his brow knitting together unconsciously as he focuses. 

The 212th doesn’t exactly have access to the myriad of supplies the vid-blogger eagerly shows the camera, but Cody’s scoured the supply shipments to source some decent enough conditioner - combined with the comb with a handful of missing teeth that he’d uncovered earlier in his room, they’ll have to do. The steam from the shower he’d taken minutes earlier permeates the room, and Cody has to pause in his delicate work every few minutes to wipe down the mirror.

He continues working methodically from the ends of the strands up to his scalp, becoming progressively less clumsy with the action as he goes. It’s strangely meditative, though it helps that his attention on this is effectively holding off the nervousness that the mission ahead of him today brings. 

By the time he finishes up, the Commander just… stares at himself for a long moment, noting the unfamiliar sensation of his still-damp hair falling a short way across his face. It’ll need to be slicked back, certainly, but it looks… Fine. Not like him, though. Not at all. 

It’s a funny thing, that sensation that other sentients would refer to as not recognising yourself in the mirror. When your face is the same as millions of others, it’s more like seeing another one of the vode. One with that same scar across the temple and with considerably less sternness about adhering to the GAR’s hair-length regs, clearly.

Cody sighs, gesturing to power down the holoprojector, finishing towelling himself off and finally heading out of the ‘fresher to get ready for the day. Regardless of his feelings on the subject, it’ll help him blend in better as a deserter, so longer hair it is.

Longer hair and an almost merc-like uniform, according to the tailored cloak and boots that wait for him in his room. Cody grimaces.

He just hopes that if Waxer or Boil see him, they’ll keep their mouths shut.

By some mercy of the fates, he’s able to steal through the Venator and make it up to the docking bays without catching the eye of any of his men (mostly, at least; he’d brushed past Helix outside the medbay but the medic hadn’t even looked up from his work). 

He jogs up the ramp to the ship to join his Jedi - already waiting for him and re-reading today’s mission details with a mug in hand, of course.

Cody spots the second mug of caf that Obi-Wan had prepared sitting over on one of the consoles and beelines for it, already knowing he’ll be needing all the stimulants he can get his hands on to feel at all ready for today.

“Ah, Commander, I was wondering when you were going to–” Obi-Wan starts, but the comment dies on his tongue. Cody glances over to see his normally so eloquent General taking a moment before finishing his sentence, his friend’s gaze flicking briefly over his appearance. The Commander raises a questioning brow, and Obi-Wan clears his throat quietly, before offering Cody a slightly short nod.

“... When you were going to arrive.” His eyes linger for a moment, uncharacteristically unsure of himself, before he turns away, busying himself by inputting the coordinates into the console. “The hair suits you, by the way.”

Cody feels strangely warm at the compliment, self-consciously reaching up to push back some of the strands.

“I’ve written up some of the boys for shorter,” he comments dryly, stepping up alongside the Jedi and taking a sip of his caf. Obi-Wan snorts in quiet amusement, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’m sure.”

A calm silence briefly blankets them as the ship’s autopilot gets them away from the Venator and into the familiar black ocean of space, and Cody feels some of his tension ease. Of course it feels normal. He was a fool to think that this would feel any different to their usual missions. 

His eyes idly track the various indicators that display the wellbeing of the ship as he exhales slowly, lips curling up into something more reminiscent of a grimace than a smile - but nonetheless, he tries.

“You feeling ready for this?” he asks, feeling selfishly a little comforted by the thoughtful hum he gets in response. That’s a ‘not quite’ from the Jedi, and it at least means they’ll be walking into this together with some uncertainty. Cody hates feeling like he’s on the back foot.

“You can never be too ready for an undercover mission,” Obi-Wan says evenly, staring out ahead of them as the ship prepares to enter hyperspace. His fingers tap idly against his mug. “It always comes down to improvisation. A slip of the tongue here, an unexpected question there,” he murmurs. Catching Cody’s eye, the ghost of a smirk flits across his features. “... Not to worry you, of course.”

“Mm, right. You’d never do anything to cause me worry,” Cody quips, settling down into the pilot chair and buckling himself in. Obi-Wan follows suit, nodding serenely.

“It definitely hasn’t happened before, no.”

The trip through hyperspace is largely uneventful, the two falling into a companionable silence. As his thoughts stray to the mission ahead a little way into the flight, Cody realises his mind must feel a little frayed through the Force, because Obi-Wan turns to give him the look.

‘The Look’ is something scrutinising that happens whenever the Commander hasn’t quite managed to maintain his mental shields enough to conceal his emotions in a time of stress - the Jedi Order had, en masse, taught the vode how to do it in the early days of their partnership, in the interest of maintaining privacy for the troops, and as a gesture of goodwill. Cody does it well, for the most part, though it’s harder for him with Obi-Wan than with others, he finds. The man always seems to be able to see right through him.

“You’re still anxious.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and Cody wishes, not for the first time, that the General wouldn’t draw attention to his vulnerability like this. He levels Obi-Wan with a frustrated look of his own, brows knitting into a frown.

“It’s fine,” he insists. Obi-Wan looks at him flatly. Cody relents immediately, knowing that it’s useless trying to lie to any Jedi, but especially this one in particular.

He course corrects.

“It’ll be fine once we’re actually in the thick of it. It’s…” he grimaces, shaking his head slightly. “It’s the unknown of it all. At least if it’s a firefight, you can face down the enemy with a rifle.”

Obi-Wan reaches out to gently squeeze his Commander’s shoulder. The action soothes, the familiar warmth of his hand providing an anchor point of calm. “You’ll be wonderful. If I didn’t have full faith in you, I wouldn’t have asked you to join me,” he says, sincerely.

“Besides,” Obi-Wan adds, a playful glint in his eye, “if it all goes sideways, then you can happily be in your comfort zone while we blast our way out.”

A huff of amusement escapes Cody as he rolls his eyes, reaching up to cover the hand that remains on his shoulder.

“My comfort zone of keeping you from getting yourself impaled or shot? Yes, I’m unfortunately very familiar,” he mutters, exasperated yet fond.

Obi-Wan tips his head back and laughs.

______________________________

The first time he hears Obi-Wan laugh - properly laugh, not that wry chuckle he occasionally hears during briefings - it’s also the first time they’ve stayed up late together to finish up on  paperwork in his quarters. Cody has been regaling him with a tale from his youth on Kamino, relating to a particularly memorable incident involving Wooley, Boil, and a few mouse droids, and Obi-Wan laughs, eyes creasing at the corners and shoulders shaking with mirth.

At this time, it’s been about six weeks since the battalion’s first deployment in the war. The group is beginning to feel less like a random selection of soldiers and more like many parts of a functioning whole. Most notably, a handful of the men have recently started on their armour decoration. After much debate back and forth about the colour they should choose to accurately represent the battalion, Crys organised a (debatably) official vote in the mess hall with swatches of the strongest contenders.

The General had politely abstained over lunch, telling the vode that it wasn’t his place to influence their choices on such matters. Waxer indignantly declared such a position as ‘fence-sitting’, and Cody had sharply warned the young trooper that if he were to accuse High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi of centrist tendencies again, it would be KP duty for a month.

The vote had come out strongly in favour of a colour they’d henceforth started referring to as ‘212th gold’ - a handsome shade that glowed like the sun when caught by natural light. As his duty dictates him to show the way for his men, the Commander was among the first to adopt it, beginning with the sunburst on his chestplate. It felt right, even with those first brushstrokes, to be able to claim something as truly theirs. Cody hopes that one day, 212th gold will represent a spark of hope across the Galaxy. A mark made entirely in their name.

A little romantic of a thought, perhaps, but it brings him a spark of pride whenever he sees the newest shinies brought in, eager to earn the paint stripes they see displayed by those in command.  

In these last six weeks, a considerable amount has changed for the men, and it’s been a lot of adjustment. Both Obi-Wan and the vode serving under him have had to figure out how to adapt, to work alongside each other effectively. The General is kinder, more human than the Kaminoans had warned he’d be - he watches out for them on battlefields, mourns alongside them when their brothers are lost… in turn, the vode are beginning to slowly open up, too, starting to share parts of their culture with the Jedi.

He’s even been learning to speak Mando’a, though Cody is privately grateful that he’s been able to warn the boys ahead of time to watch their tongues when the General is floating around. They mean well, but he knows what they can be like if they think no one can understand them… The last thing he wants is to have to deal with writing up half of his troops for discussing too liberally what happened during their most recent trip to 79’s.

Once Obi-Wan gathers himself again, he looks over at Cody with a thoughtful glance, his expression softened with a grin. 

“It doesn’t sound altogether too dissimilar to the way we were raised in the temple, you know,” he says, “... mischief and all.” 

Cody watches him from his position sat on the edge of his bed. He thinks the relaxed, genuine smile suits the other man greatly. He privately hopes he’ll get to see it again after tonight. 

The Jedi hums to himself, before adopting a fond, faraway look. “All younglings can be particularly trying in large numbers, regardless of origin,” he continues, “I do not envy the crechèmasters for the duty they have to perform.”

Cody’s interest is piqued at that. The datapad in his hand is ignored for a moment, attention turned fully to the man sitting at his desk.

“You were raised communally?”

Obi-Wan nods, pausing briefly to make an amendment to the report in front of him, slender fingers moving quickly across the screen. Stars, Cody thinks to himself with a little annoyance, the man can even make paperwork look elegant.

“Yes. Well, from a certain age at least. I was brought to the Temple around age 4,” he explains. His eyes are still a little distant, lost in the memory of a happier time. “I still have a deep fondness for my crèchemates, despite… Differing opinions with a handful of them.”

Cody nods slowly, studying the Jedi for a beat.

“I get that, General,” he says, returning his attention to his datapad. “I’m the same with my batchmates. I just… Might have had more of them than you.” 

“An understatement I’m sure, Commander,” Obi-Wan chuckles, before his tone turns softer, more sincere. He glances over at Cody, choosing his next words carefully. 

“It seems like… A wonderful thing, the family you and the rest of the vode share.” He gives Cody a small smile, though there’s something else to it, a heaviness that settles behind his expression. “... It’s a shame that such a thing was created for the unworthy purpose of war. I can only hope that once the fighting is done, you’ll be able to thrive as all other sentients do.”

The two lapse into silence for a little while, the only sound filling the room the soft tapping of keys. Obi-Wan has spoken a little about his feelings on the war over the last handful of weeks, and to be truthful, it’s not a subject that Cody trusts himself to speak about. Neither the 212th, nor Cody himself for that matter, have been deployed for very long, and the clone doesn’t quite understand all of the weight behind his General’s words. Perhaps he will come to, in time… for better or worse.

Cody has reckoned with his own adjustments in the past few weeks. He’s found himself relaxing considerably around Obi-Wan, no longer feeling the burning need to watch himself as if his General is considering decommissioning him if he puts a foot wrong. He didn’t particularly know her, but from what the other vode say, Shaak Ti was similar back on Kamino.

It took a week and one mission in the field before Cody decided that the Jetii were not the dictators they’d expected. A further week and he was convinced they had no choice in this whole matter either, and were evidently suffering for it. Like a good Commander, he'd kept those observations to himself.

As soon as he’d allowed himself to be… Well, human, around the Jedi, he and Obi-Wan had started to become closer. Cody isn’t particularly adept at it yet, but if he finds himself arriving early to their morning briefings, he’s started making the General his tea in the way he likes it. It’s something small, but judging by the way Obi-Wan’s eyes had widened the first time he’d done it, a pleased smile crossing his face, it’s something that seemed to mean a lot to him.

They’ve become… Friends, or something approaching that, at least. It’s a thought that has him steeling himself to speak now, clearing his throat in the quiet space.

“... Cody,” he says, forcing the word to come out casually. Obi-Wan glances up again with a raised brow, a questioning look in his eyes. Cody finds it in himself to meet his General’s gaze, offering an affirmative nod. “You, uh… asked me for my chosen name, when we first met,” he explains quietly, ignoring the way his stomach wants to twist as he holds out this olive branch of trust, “it’s Cody.”

Obi-Wan’s expression goes from confusion, to surprise, to something incredibly warm.

“Cody,” he repeats softly, as if testing out the sound of it on his tongue, before giving an approving nod. A smile remains on his face even as he returns to his work. “Thank you, Cody,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the datapad at his desk. The Commander is grateful for it - he feels as if the vulnerability of further eye contact might make him combust right now.  “It’s a fine name. I’m honoured to know it.”

If Cody feels his heart react to the softness of his Jedi’s tone in that moment, he doesn’t mention it.

______________________________

“Mister and Mister Emerin?”

Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance at the call across the docking bays. They’ve barely been parked for a minute, and they’re already out of time. 

“I suppose that’s us,” Cody says with a heavy sigh, rolling his shoulders slightly. He looks at Obi-Wan, tilting his head with a silent question of ‘ready?’ and the Jedi nods, bringing the last of the bags with him down the gangway of the ship.

A tall, pale Nautolan woman with a checklist in hand approaches, teeth flashing a perfect, artificially white smile as Obi-Wan steps forwards to shake her hand. 

“Charmed,” he drawls in a smooth, Outer Rim accent, his voice low with lazily drawn out syllables - a stark contrast to the sharp, crisp Coruscanti voice that Cody’s used to hearing. Beside the Jedi, he forces on a smile.

“You’re here to check us in?” he says, hoping that his voice comes across not nearly as unsure and out of place as he feels. The Nautolan nods, making a scribble on the flimsi paper she’s carrying, pocketing it and taking the bags from the two of them without asking.

“Here, I’ll get these for you and show you to the main building. Is this your first time staying with us?”

The woman chatters away to them as they make the walk from the docking bays to the resort itself. Obi-Wan is as content to make conversation as Cody is to let him. The clone hangs back a little, taking in the planet around him. Brilliant light beams down on the building ahead, even as it nears the start of sundown, making him squint a little. It’s…

Excessive is the primary word that comes to mind.

The docking bays themselves are massive, on an elevated platform above a calm looking ocean of tropical blue. The bridge they’re now on connects to a few perfectly sculpted beaches that are teeming with people even at this hour, and more pressingly, a building the size of the damn Senate. Cody’s far from an expert on architecture, but it’s clearly a recent build - large windows and extravagant relief work carved into the stone of the imposing structure, of various people or mythological beings that Cody imagines he probably should recognise but doesn’t.

It all seems to be purpose-built with the intention of making the space feel welcoming to those in a certain tax bracket. 

Cody is undeniably not part of that tax bracket.

This area of the planet itself has almost definitely gone through some extensive terraforming by the looks of things, and he feels a little dizzy as he imagines the cost - coming from a corporation, no less. Part of the background provided for this mission detailed that Miphena, the planet they’re standing on, is essentially owned by the resort managers with no government to speak of. To call it ‘bleak’ would be underselling it.

They’re ushered inside by the woman with the increasingly grating customer service voice, brought through a pristine foyer tiled with marble underfoot. Cody is sure to make a mental note of that - that’s very slippery when covered in blood, so if they’re having to fight their way out, they should find another point of exit than this one.

He continues to sweep the rest of the room with an analytical eye. The main desk could be used as cover in a pinch, though it’s not in a particularly tactical location - the presence of stairs, an elevator, and double-doors through to the main events hall makes this an undesirable position to have to defend with too many points of ambush.

… Granted, it’s exceedingly unlikely they’ll be forced to stage a firefight here, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.

The receptionist leads them up to the seventh floor (with a lot of small-talk in the elevator that feels entirely unnecessary), hands them their keys for the room, drops their bags off and thanks the two profusely for their custom before leaving them alone once more. Obi-Wan and Cody share a glance, and the former smirks. 

“After you, darling husband,” Obi-Wan says easily with a flourishing bow, still holding onto the accent despite the fact it’s just the two of them. The amused gleam in the Jedi’s eye only gets stronger as Cody rolls his eyes, pushing past him to enter into the room. 

Much like the exterior of the hotel, it’s certainly extravagant. A large bed takes up most of the space, crisp white sheets with elaborate gold embroidery detailing the edges, and a plush red carpet beneath it. Every surface has some form of decoration, a vase of fake flowers here, a small metal sculpture there. A fairly incomprehensible piece of abstract art hangs above the bed, though what it’s intended to represent is entirely lost on Cody.

The two share another glance, silently communicating with one another, and get to work searching the room for any listening devices. 

Cody heads directly for the mirror, carefully unhooking it from the wall to see if the garish item is the result of the need to obscure a bug of some kind, or if it’s just the result of terrible taste.

Hm. Terrible taste it is.

Once they both signal the all-clear, Obi-Wan relaxes a little, setting both of their bags down on the bed.

“Well,” he says mildly, glancing around with a disapproving gaze. “It’s certainly expensive.”

Cody snorts, following his eyeline. “Just how much did the Republic spend to send us here?”

Obi-Wan peers closely at the strange painting, letting out a soft hum. “I shudder to think.” He pauses as Cody wanders over to check out the balcony. “This surely can’t be an original work,” he mutters to himself, passing a hand over his beard and frowning in thought. 

Cody can’t help but glance back with a raised brow. 

“... Sir,” he says, and the Jedi interrupts him with a wave of his hand, still narrowing his eyes at the artwork.

“It’s Obi-Wan when we’re alone, Cody, you know that.”

“Obi-Wan,” he starts again, amused. “Please tell me you’re not critiquing the art–”

“If it’s there, it should be there with purpose. This is soulless. It’s nothing-”

“In a resort, Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi lets out a rather contemptuous scoff, before drawing back to meet Cody’s gaze. He folds his arms, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “If you’re not the type to appreciate a critique of art, my dear, then whyever did I marry you in the first place?”

Cody lets out a long suffering sigh, not missing a beat. “I ask myself the same thing every day, darling, believe me.”

That draws a laugh from his Jedi. Cody steps out to the balcony proper as Obi-Wan begins to unpack his bag. 

The sun is drawing lower on the horizon now, painting the sky in picturesque golds and oranges as people slowly move in from the beach - a steady stream of holiday-goers and families making their way back to the hotel for the evening. Cody idly watches them, leaning out over the railing as he takes in the myriad of species, genders, and ages of the people who’ve come here for an escape. One thing seems to bind them all together despite the differences - that distinct aura of wealth that seems to permeate the very air here.

He can’t really put his finger on what it is. The way they carry themselves, maybe? The sea of perfect skin and hair, the precision in which they choose to dress… It’s all fairly alien to the Commander. None of it really feels real in the way that people tend to be. Give him the flawed mess of the Lower Levels any day.

“I’m going to go for a little wander,” Obi-Wan calls through from the bedroom. “Get the lay of the land, so to speak.” 

Cody turns, stepping back into the lavish room and stretching slightly. He sighs as he feels a pleasant ache in his muscles.

“I’ll probably stay in,” he yawns, “get an early night. Didn’t sleep well last rotation, and I’d prefer to feel rested for tomorrow.”

Even though he technically hasn’t been awake for all that long, Cody figures it’d be best to get started on adjusting to local time as quickly as possible. They’ll need to be up at dawn, regardless of if they’re ready for it. The Jedi hums in response, slipping on his cloak and heading to the door.

“That sounds wise. I’ll try not to return too late - if you’re already asleep, I shall endeavour to join you as quietly as possible.” His gaze falls to where Cody stands, offering a small smile. “Feel free to claim either side of the bed. Comms are on, I’ll see you in a little while.”

With that, he’s disappeared off into the night, leaving Cody with the question of whether or not he should take the floor tonight dying on his tongue. 

He blinks, a little stupidly, after the now closed door. It’s as if there wasn’t even a question of whether they would be sharing the bed in the Jedi’s mind. Which… Cody supposes there shouldn’t be, really. 

He and Obi-Wan have shared tents before in the field countless times, slept closely on the ground when there hasn’t been space in various quarters they’ve been given. Hells, during a mission on Mygeeto two months ago, he’d had no qualms with combining their bedrolls together for warmth.

A real bed just… feels different. Cody isn’t quite sure why.

He gives a wary sidelong glance to the offending furniture, as if expecting it to bite him. The bed, for its part, stares back at him unblinkingly, its exorbitant number of pillows providing more fuel for Cody’s growing resentment of the damn thing.

The Commander shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. With a sigh and a mental slap upside the head, he unpacks his own bag, glancing out every now and again to the progressing sunset as he changes into his sleepclothes.

He’s almost loath to admit it, but the view is gorgeous. The twin moons slowly rise into the sky, basking the ocean in an ethereal glow. If it weren’t for the fact that he can still hear tourists partying outside, he could be tricked into actually enjoying this.

Cody sets aside the outfits he’ll need for tomorrow - something casual for the day, and something more formal for a party that’ll be occurring in the evening - before putting his suitcase down on top of Obi-Wan’s, near the door.

Sinking down into bed, he’s further frustrated to find out how comfortable it feels, reluctantly admitting to himself that perhaps the richest of the rich in the galaxy do get some things right every now and again. Rarely.

He lets out a deep exhale, pleased to find that his mind feels considerably more settled now that they’re actually here at the mission location, a little more peaceful.

It’s a relief, to be certain - Cody doesn’t really know who he is if not for the calm, collected strategist that always has an answer. His lack of certainty as of late has been… Disquieting, to say the least.

He grasps the feeling of quietude with both hands, allowing it to pull him into the alluring drift of near-sleep.

He stirs a little when he hears Obi-Wan return, the door clicking closed ever so gently. The Jedi seems to be true to his word in keeping his movements as soundless as possible- 

Well, that is at least until he takes a step further into the dark room and walks directly into the suitcases in front of him, letting out a hiss of pain. 

Cody can’t quite conceal his ensuing huff of amusement. Obi-Wan seems decidedly less pleased, grumbling something under his breath. 

The other man pads over to the other side of the bed, and Cody hears the distinctive rustle of clothes being removed. He lets out a slow breath, ensuring to stay stock still, facing the other way. Not that he could really see what was going on even if he did roll over, but…

“Sorry. I tried.” Obi-Wan’s whisper cuts through the darkness, genuine regret in his tone. 

“You’re fine. Is your foot alright?”

The Jedi huffs. “Mortally wounded, I’m afraid. Amputation likely.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

The bed dips gently behind him as Obi-Wan gets in. Cody is suddenly very grateful that everything in this hotel is oversized - it at least means they can do this without threat of the two being close enough to touch. For one long moment, he’s hyper-aware of every shift, every slight movement from his Jedi, before he forces his eyes to close.

It all falls quiet after that, apart from the gentle sound of even breaths behind him. Cody unconsciously finds himself matching them, slow inhales and exhales that serve to soothe his suddenly racing heart. He tries not to think too hard about why his heart might be racing.

Cody swallows. Thank the stars he knows how to shield, because he has no idea what Obi-Wan would say if he could sense this… Whatever it is that’s gotten into him.

With a long exhale, he uses what his General had once taught him of meditation technique to forcibly quieten his mind. He’s not allowing himself to do this. Not again.

To his immense gratitude, with a little effort (and time spent visualising the movement of the ocean outside), the calm of earlier finds its way to him once again, soothing his mind and slowing his breaths to match that of the lapping water.

As he finds himself on the precipice of sleep once more, he hears a quiet murmur from the other side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Cody.”

Cody pulls the covers up a little tighter to himself, yawning as he does so. It takes him a moment to find his voice, and when he does, it’s uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Sleep well, Obi-Wan.”

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 33)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 32

Warnings: grief!! depression!!! tread lightly!! things will get better, our girl will heal, but please engage with this only if you feel good/healthy yourself! also, drama/angst, but that's what you get from me

Summary: Anakin comforts you after the death of your Master; you wrestle with some difficult truths, and agree to train with someone new

Word Count: 2.7k

It was heavy. There was no other way to explain it. Your grief was a heavy pillow, suffocating you as you lay in your bed. You felt like the sheets might swallow whole you under the weight. The feel of Anakin's arms around you faded in the face of the soft, quiet, heavy feeling pressing on you. It was like being underwater. It was like trying to fight wind stronger than a hurricane. It pushed you down, and you felt like you had no strength to fight against it.

You'd awoken after Felucia in the Temple's medical chamber, Anakin at your side. You had no memory of anything that had happened after Yuma had been killed, and you didn't understand why Anakin looked so full of relief, why he had tears in his eyes at the sight of you. Obi-Wan had simply explained that you had lost consciousness, similar to the way you had when encountering Dooku's presence. Something in Anakin's face told you that it wasn't quite that simple.

Still, you couldn't find it in yourself to care, much, about what had happened after your Master had been taken from you. You couldn't find it in yourself to care about anything at all, other than the arms that remained around you, other than having Anakin by your side. You found that there were times when even that desire started to fade; when you felt the heaviness pressing in and lost any feeling at all.

"Y/N," Anakin whispered, shaking your arm a little, reaching over to run his fingers gently through your thick hair, pushing it away from your face. Every so often he would say something like this, something soft and gentle, like he were trying to make sure you could still hear him.

"I'm here," you replied, not looking at him, but reaching out and gripping his sleeve. Anakin brushed away the tears that fell softly and steadily out of your eyes and onto the sheets of the big bed in your Jedi apartment, situated in the Knight's Billet in the Temple. This is where you had remained for days, barely moving, barely sleeping or eating, struggling to fight the weight in order to keep breathing.

After you had left the medical chambers, you had recounted to the Council how Vyra had lured you into that cave, how she had manipulated the severity of the battle on Felucia and used the Sith dwelling to call to you in order to trap you and 'torture' you. You had told them what she had said of her reason for doing so, her grudge that she had held since you had been assigned your mission on Serenno. You had explained what she had recounted about Dooku and his mysterious "Master"; you'd noticed that Yoda and Windu had shared a look at that information. You couldn't bring yourself to care, at the moment, what that meant. You had struggled for breath, standing in the center of that circle of Jedi atop the tall tower, as you had recounted the last moments of Yuma's life: how she had been in the throes of a horrible vision, caused by the poison that made her live through her worst fears. You could barely get the words out when you described Vyra killing your Master, and taking her lightsaber. Obi-Wan had stood up to walk you out, his hand on your back the whole way back to your apartment, his face grim. You hadn't emerged since.

"Y/N," Anakin said again, stroking your face, your arm. "You need to eat something." You shook your head. The thought of moving at all, let alone eating, drinking, sounded too hard. You felt the heaviness pressing in on you.

"I love you," Anakin said again, and the agony in his presence was like a spark, a stabbing pain that brought you out of the heavy feeling, if only for a moment. Your eyes filled, again, with tears.

"I know," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I'll be here with you," Anakin said, reaching forward to kiss your eyelids, brushing the tears away with the gentle press of his lips. "I won't let them make me leave."

"You can't stay forever, Ani," you sighed, curling into him, wishing your words weren't true.

"I won't—"

Anakin cut off his words, feeling the same disturbance in the Force that made your senses heighten. Someone was coming.

A soft knock sounded on the door of the apartment. You and Anakin both looked at each other, sensing the presence that stood outside.

"Maybe he'll leave," you breathed into Anakin's ear, not moving. Anakin remained still, listening. You waited, holding your breath.

"Y/N," you heard, Obi-Wan's soft voice calling through the door as he knocked again. If he came into the apartment, it would only take a few steps past the kitchen for him to see through the open bedroom door, where he would find you and Anakin in bed together—

"What do we do?" you whispered, panicked, your eyes widening. Numb with grief you may be; but if you and Anakin were caught, it could risk your position in the Order. Anakin's eyes darted around, and landed on the tiny wardrobe built into the wall. Jedi Knights were granted little storage space, as they were not to keep possessions of their own.

"Anakin, he'll sense you!" you whispered frantically, but Anakin was already up and running in his boxers to the wardrobe. He sucked in his gut and used the force to close the wardrobe's doors as you heard Obi-Wan's voice sound again from outside the door.

"Y/N, I'm coming in," Obi-Wan said, his voice gentle and suppliant. You pulled yourself up in your bed, fighting against the heaviness in your limbs as you used the Force to summon your robe, hastily throwing it on over your nightgown as the door to your apartment opened and Obi-Wan stepped inside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Obi-Wan said as he walked forward to stand in the open door of your bedroom. You knew you probably looked like Moraband; you hadn't visited the refresher in days, and your hair was a tangled mess on your head. You felt Obi-Wan's thoughts linger on the dark circles under your eyes.

"That's all right, Master," you replied, your voice hoarse. Obi-Wan walked forward and pulled the chair near the window around so that it was facing you. You gulped as he turned, looking back to you as if to ask, may I ? You nodded, gesturing that he should sit. Obi-Wan had never been inside your apartment before—his presence startled you enough that you felt the heavy numbness backing away from you.

"I came to bring you this," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward in the chair and pulling something from the pocket of his robes. As he reached out to hand it to you, you sighed in amazement.

"How...?" you asked, leaning forward to take your lightsaber from him and gripping it. You felt each familiar divot of the hilt like you had found an old friend lost to time; you felt the ghosts of tears prickle behind your eyes, and you willed them away.

"I recovered it for you, on Felucia," Obi-Wan responded quietly. "When you were found, in that cave." His tone was careful, quiet, and solemn. "I wanted to return it to you before, but...it seemed a difficult enough moment." You thought back to facing the Council, to the whirlwind of emotions you'd faced upon waking up here, in the Temple, without your Master, for the first time in your life.

"Thank you," you managed to get out, looking back up at him and keeping your tears at bay. He simply nodded. You looked around, feeling awkward, working to keep your gaze anywhere but on the wardrobe behind Obi-Wan's back.

"I also..." Obi-Wan started, and you met his gaze, his face lit by the rays of sun streaming in through the partially closed blinds. "I am also here because I wanted to make a proposition to you."

You squinted, gripping your robe around yourself, inclining your head to indicate that he should continue.

"You are, of course, under no obligation to do so..." Obi-Wan started, rubbing his hands over his mustache and through his beard. "But...I know how important it was to Yuma that you work on your ability, to block out the presences of the Sith." At these words, your heart dropped. The weight came back in full force, pushing you down. It was an effort to keep yourself seated, to not lay back into the sheets and give in to the heaviness that pressed into you. You swallowed, nodding. "I would like to continue your training, in that regard," Obi-Wan said, watching you intently, his voice soft. "Not to pick up where Yuma left off, necessarily. But to work to make sure you are fully in control of your abilities...so that, when the time comes that you must protect yourself, you are as prepared as you can be. I would like to do everything in my power to help you."

You struggled to breathe evenly, working the air in and out of your lungs. You knew that Obi-Wan meant well—that he was trying to show care for you, and for Yuma, by offering to help. And you knew you needed the help, knew now that your susceptibility to the dark side of the Force was a liability. So you couldn't help but hear the unspoken truth behind Obi-Wan's words—that it was your fault, what had happened on Felucia. That if you had made more progress in your lessons with Yuma, she would still...

Be here, you finished in your head, your eyes welling up against your will. You didn't need Obi-Wan to tell you. You knew the truth. You knew who was responsible for Yuma's death.

"Y/N," Obi-Wan started, leaning forward like he wanted to do something to comfort you, but you shook your head, letting the tears fall.

"I'll do it," you said, pushing against the heaviness. "I'll train with you." It was all you could manage. Obi-Wan paused, as if debating, then leaned back in his chair, putting his hand down.

"Good," Obi-Wan replied, his voice contemplative. "I'd like to start right away, given that the war has made it so my time at the Temple is limited. Tomorrow?" You nodded, looking away from him, your face flushed at your embarrassment. You'd never cried in front of Obi-Wan, and you didn't like it—you didn't want to feel weak around him, the Jedi who was always so very much in control. Until recently, you'd thought of yourself and Obi-Wan as similar souls, similar warriors who kept their emotions in check. You now realized that you were useless in more ways than one, that people like Obi-Wan would always surpass you. You wanted to go back to sleep.

"The last thing..." Obi-Wan continued, his voice unnervingly gentle. "I wanted to tell you," he said, leaning forward in his chair, waiting until you looked up to meet his gaze, "that you aren't alone. Though I know that no one and nothing could ever replace what Yuma was to you—to all of us—I want you to know that you still have family, here. That you still have a mentor that cares for you deeply." You blinked, the brazen affection in this statement disarming you.

 "And that if you ever need to discuss anything," Obi-Wan continued, "anything, even things that you wouldn't bring to others in the Order, you can come to me. Whenever you need." You could have sworn Obi-Wan glanced infinitesimally toward the wardrobe, but it was so fast, you must have been imagining it.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," you said, your voice small, your gratitude sincere. You felt so much affection and adoration for the Jedi Master sitting in front of you. You wished only that his faith in you wasn't so displaced. You felt your body shaking, the effort of pushing off the weight beginning to wear on you.

"That's all," Obi-Wan said, smiling at you as he stood, walking toward the door. "I'll expect you in the meditation chambers tomorrow." You nodded, feeling drained. "Don't—don't be unkind to yourself," Obi-Wan added, pausing in the bedroom doorway to turn back to you. "All of this is hard enough as it is." You nodded again, wondering how he could sense what you were thinking so accurately. Obi-Wan turned away, striding for the door to the apartment.

You listened as the front door slid shut, waiting, your heart beating. He didn't return. You sank back into your pillows, pulling the robe around you in a cocoon as you heard the wardrobe door slide open.

Anakin didn't say anything as he lay down next to you, pulling your whole body and cradling it in his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"Training might be a good thing," Anakin whispered, in a tone like he was trying to sound optimistic. You pulled yourself closer to him, your body quivering as if you were cold. You felt the tears at the edge of your eyes again, felt the quivers turn into quiet sobs.

"I'm here," Anakin said, kissing your head and stroking your back. "I'm here." What else could he say? Everything certainly wasn't okay. You tried in vain to calm the sobs, but they continued. Whenever you fought the numbness enough to stave it off, this was what happened. It was, in some ways, worse to feel.

"I should have been there," Anakin said vengefully, his voice shaky, "I shouldn't have left you." You inhaled, quickly, another sob breaking out of you.

"Are you saying—are you saying that you could have prevented it?" You pulled back in Anakin's arms, looking him in the face, your eyes wide. "That it's my fault, that she's...that she's...?" you felt your body continue to shake. Unfamiliar anger pulsed through you, the bitter anger that was only self-directed. You needed somewhere to put it. Nothing made sense, anymore. Your brain turned to fire.

"No, of course—no, Y/N, of course that's not—" Anakin started, alarmed, gripping your arms as you pulled farther away from him.

"You don’t have to say that, because I already know!" you replied, shouting now, as you pulled yourself out of the bed, standing before him. Anakin was on his feet immediately, his arms outstretched for you, but you backed away. "I know what happened is my fault entirely!! If I hadn’t—choked—if I had just listened—"

"Y/N, no, no, that's not it, no, listen to me, that's not..."

"You heard Obi-Wan," you continued, sobbing again. "And you said it yourself. Yuma was right. I was a liability, and because of me, my Master is dead."

"Y/N!" Anakin was shouting now, reaching out for you again, but you pushed him away, backing into the corner of your bedroom and sinking to the floor.

"Just leave," you choked, closing your eyes, feeling the world around you start to sway. "Just go." The world was starting to fade.

"Y/N," Anakin said gently, moving toward you slowly, his arms outstretched like he was approaching a loose rancor. "Y/N, it isn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I didn't think that for one second, and neither does Obi-Wan."

"Just leave," you repeated, softly, your sobs coming freely now. You didn't deserve to be comforted. You wanted to descend into oblivion. You were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, in your arms. You looked around, but saw that your vision was blurring over.

"I can't do that," Anakin murmured softly, and you felt his hands prying at your arms. You hadn't realized you'd been gripping your knees so tightly. You started to breathe quickly. "Look at me, Y/N," Anakin whispered, and you looked around, frantic now, your eyes clouded, unable to see. "Come back to me," Anakin breathed into your ear, and you blinked, his face swimming into view.

"I can't ever leave you," Anakin said, pulling you into his arms right there on the floor. You wanted to reply. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't ever leave him, either. You wanted to promise that the two of you would be together forever. But the world had changed, when Yuma had been taken from you. Or, you had changed. You now knew that everyone, no matter how much you loved them, would someday vanish. You didn't understand it—how one day, someone could be so very real, and the next, they could be gone. And Anakin would vanish, someday, too. You leaned into him, feeling how very real and alive he felt, with his arms around you. You felt the heaviness descend as you wept.

************************************************************************

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!!!

just imagine this Obi-Wan comforting you after reading this angst 😂🤓

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist pt 1: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 14 - Voyeurism + Pillow Humping

For @comebackali ~ 👀

Freely Given - 1,926 Rating: E Content: Established Relationship / Explicit Sexual Content / Voyeurism / Accidental Voyeurism / pillow humping / Dry Humping / Masturbation / getting caught

---

‘You… hump your pillow?’

‘Yeah. You sound surprised.’

‘I just can’t see how that would be at all pleasurable, Anakin. Doesn’t it chafe?”

‘Maybe if you don’t have enough precome, I don’t know. But it doesn’t chafe and it does feel good. Really good, actually.’

‘You’re a strange one, darling.’

‘You should try it before you start calling me strange, Master.’

Obi-Wan rarely followed Anakin’s advice. In fact, Anakin was fairly certain that Obi-Wan was outright allergic to it. He’d listen, of course, and hum and stroke his beard, maybe furrow his brow while Anakin helpfully suggested something. But as soon as he was done giving said advice, Obi-Wan would walk the other way and do whatever it was he thought ‘was best.’

But sometimes, Obi-Wan listened.

And sometimes, Obi-Wan applied the advice.

Like right now.

Anakin had come back from an intense training session with Rex, his limbs weak and mind pleasantly buzzing with the memory of how well Rex had performed against the speed and agility of a Jedi Knight. A few more months of war and Anakin figured he’d have the best equipped legion in the entire Republican army. It was with this unregulated pride coursing through him that Anakin stepped into his shared living quarters with Obi-Wan to feel something in their bond.

It was muffled but still present, like an itch just beneath the skin that hummed both pleasantly and insistently against the back of Anakin’s spine. He’d felt it before when he was spread out on his bed, Obi-Wan’s weight heavy on top as he mumbled words of adoration against Anakin’s neck. Or when Anakin was leaned against a wall, breath stuttered as it billowed out from beneath his hand as he tried to quiet himself, the wet suction of Obi-Wan’s mouth around his cock as he pulled every last trickle of come from him in a desperate bid to push back the pressures of war.

Obi-Wan was turned on.

Obi-Wan was getting off.

Grinning, Anakin slunk toward Obi-Wan’s bedroom door and opened it just a small crack, jamming the circuitry so it wouldn’t open all the way. Peeking through the crack in the door Anakin came upon an incredible sight.

Obi-Wan knelt on his bed parallel to the door, his entire body in view. He was naked, skin slick with sweat, the pale parts of his shoulders and thighs pink with exertion and delight. Sweat beaded up and slid down his temples and the back of his neck, some of it slick in his chest hair as he pressed his pecs tight together with the push of his arms. His head was ducked but Anakin could still make out his face, features drawn tight in sheer ecstasy, little gasps spilling forth from his lips as he continued to move at an achingly slow pace.

And between his legs, tucked in tight and hiding away his cock, was a pillow.

Anakin’s pillow.

Slamming his hand against his mouth, Anakin bit into the leather of his glove in a bid to stave off a loud moan. Bracing himself against the door, he evened out his breathing best he could and continued to marvel at the sight.

Obi-Wan had gone and done it. He’d taken Anakin’s advice.

And was using Anakin’s pillow to do it.

Anakin thought he might pass out, all the blood immediately rushing to his cock, but he held back his own needs in order to watch as Obi-Wan experienced the hedonism of self-indulgence. Anakin knew Obi-Wan touched himself - had heard it before and seen it a few times, caught in the corner of his eye when they were on a week’s long mission and had no privacy or time to deal with bodily needs. The first few times Obi-Wan had been quick and quiet about it, his hand between his legs as he grunted out his release in a stifled moan. He became a little more relaxed once he knew Anakin liked to see his Master touch himself, hand no longer flying like a speeder across his length but rather lazy and soft, fingers playing with the sticky, spongy head before swiping back down.

But he never did anything exciting - never played with his hole or tugged at his balls, didn’t eat his own come, and he certainly didn’t hump pillows.

And yet here he was, undressed completely, hips rocking in slow movements, red cock-head peeking out from the plush fabric now and again before disappearing away as he indulged in his body and his desires for just a moment.

Anakin was oddly proud.

And very, very turned on.

Leaning against the frame, Anakin kept his gaze on Obi-Wan as he pushed his pants down to his knees, exposing his hardening cock to the cool air. Pushing up his shirt, he wrapped his flesh hand around his length and started stroking himself in the rhythm that Obi-Wan had set with his thrusts, biting back a whimper as pleasure fanned out across his groin and into the tight heat of his belly.

Obi-Wan remained consistent, his head rolling back as he continued to rut up against the pillow, his toes curling slightly as he stuttered a moment before continuing with the motion. He was moaning softly, the sound of it digging into Anakin’s core and hollowing him out with each desperate little grunt and groan. He’d been going at it for some time, Anakin could see it in his body and feel it in their bond, the little hum tight like a string on an instrument.

A part of him wished he could have seen the whole process - of Obi-Wan undressing, broad hands smooth across his body as he exposed every piece of himself to the quiet room. And then the hesitation as he placed the pillow between his legs, the first few stilted thrusts, and then the potent realization that this felt good before he gave in all the way and started fucking Anakin’s pillow.

The fact that it was his pillow that Obi-Wan was using made Anakin’s cock weep even more, thick strands of precome spilling out onto the floor as he continued to stroke himself to Obi-Wan’s pace. Did he want Anakin to find out? Lie down in his bed and smell his cock and seed thick in his throat? Or had he planned on washing away his deed, trying to hide away just how nasty he could be even though Anakin knew what Obi-Wan craved.

Obi-Wan stopped for a moment and sat back on his haunches, breath heavy as he closed his eyes and brushed a bang across his brow. His nipples were pink and hard, Anakin knowing he’d been playing with them earlier. He liked when Anakin sucked on them as they fooled around, his body jerking up into Anakin’s embrace as he laved the skin and the hardened nubs with careful, dutiful attention.

A part of Anakin wanted to throw himself through the door and do just that - suck on his pecs while Obi-Wan continued to fuck his pillow, making a mess of them both as they gave into the desires Obi-Wan knew he should refrain from, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to fall into.

Instead he squeezed down on his length and pulled at his balls, tugging them away from his body as he held off on his own release, taking a break with Obi-Wan.

Eventually Obi-Wan went back to work. He repositioned the pillow, strong hands pushing it up against his long, thick length, Anakin catching sight of sticky seed spread out across the fabric of the pillow case.

There was no way he’d let Obi-Wan wash it. He needed it. Preferably in his mouth, but he’d take just to sniffing it if that was all he could get.

As if on cue or perhaps subconsciously sensing Anakin’s memories, Obi-Wan started playing with one of his nipples again, a strangled little moan slipping past his lips as he pinched and rubbed the already sensitive bud. Anakin started stroking himself again, breath hot against the frame of the door as he leaned in further, trying to get all the experience he could; from the sights to the sounds, to the scent of Obi-Wan’s sex, thick like come in his throat as he breathed in the muggy air.

Dropping his hand, Obi-Wan’s pace increased, his mouth hanging open as he started thrusting faster and more eager. The skittering in their bond turned into a full-on buzzing, Anakin’s pleasures becoming Obi-Wan’s and visa-versa. He could almost feel the soft and slick sensation of the pillow around his own cock, familiar and so achingly good as he thrust into his hand, balls swinging freely between his legs.

With a cry Obi-Wan fell forward, face pressed into the mattress as he humped Anakin’s pillow like a wild beast, hips pushing up before snapping back down, the muscles of his ass flexing as he chased his release. Anakin could barely hold on as he watched the sight of Obi-Wan losing himself to his pleasures, the bed creaking with his exertion, guttural moans slipping past his lips as he turned his head to look at Anakin through the crack in the door.

Anakin came first, spilling out onto the floor and the door, hand a flurry along his length as he humped into his hand. Pleasure shot through him, his body aching with the release as he stood up on the tips of his toes, desperate for more even as he was given it all. As he released he kept his eyes locked with Obi-Wan, watching the pleasure flicker across his eyes that were mostly hidden by strands of copper, hazy with lust and embarrassment as he hurled down into the abyss with Anakin.

Obi-Wan let out a strangled groan, his hips twitching as he pushed the pillow up against himself, hands firm along the plush material as he ground down into it, sullying it with his need. Anakin almost came again at the sight, overwhelmed by the vision of Obi-Wan completely naked, ass up in the air, pillow pushed between his spread legs, beard coated in his own spit, skin flush with delight.

Collapsing against the bed when he was done, Obi-Wan rolled on to his back and stared at Anakin. Trembling, Anakin straightened up and opened the door as he kicked his boots and pants off all the way. Approaching the bed, he looked down at Obi-Wan and the mess he’d made. His stomach and chest were smeared with come, most of it still stuck to Anakin’s pillow. With a steady hand he reached down and picked up the pillow and locked eyes with Obi-Wan as he licked up some of the come from the fabric.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan said softly, voice still thick with arousal.

Anakin sucked down on the fabric, moaning as the taste of Obi-Wan flooded his tongue. His cock twitched again with interest. Dropping the pillow down next to Obi-Wan, Anakin straddled his waist, sighing when Obi-Wan’s heat filled the space between his thighs. Obi-Wan sucked back a greedy breath of the humid air, body still humming beneath Anakin.

Leaning down he brushed his fingers along Obi-Wan’s brow and tilted his head to the side. “Told you so…”

[itsmewillful]

Request #2

Main Masterlist:

Character Masterlist:

Requested by: @nev20

OMG I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. I got held up with school and other personal matters 🤧

I turned your idea into an x reader story, I hope you don't mind!

Anyway, here is your request, and I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2,567 words. (it's kinda long)

Warning(s): Fluffy fluff, some angst, mentions of Order 66 and death, Leia running away, not proof read, lot’s of uncanon stuff (becuz its better that way)

Reader is GN, or at least I tried to keep it that way. Let me know if I missed anything.

Outline: After Anakin defeats Darth Sidious in a gruesome fight, he leaves the Jedi Order to settle down with you. Fourteen years later, you are both blessed with a daughter and son: Luke and Leia. However, because Anakin Skywalker was a famous Jedi, the descendants of him are worth a lot of money to bounty hunters, so you and Anakin live in constant worry of your beloved children being whisked away, far from your reach.

Our Intentions Were Good, I promise

“Anakin!” You yelled with a hoarse voice over all the chaos that was going on in the Jedi Temple. You could sense his presence nearby, but with all the Clone Troopers storming around the temple killing Jedi in their wake, you could not help but feel worried for your lover. 

You, Anakin and the rest of the Jedi Council discovered that the Sith Lord behind all the issues was none other than the Chancellor. It was a big shock to Anakin, and you knew he felt betrayed since he basically considered him as a father. But you had always had your suspicions, and the discovery only made sense to you. 

You hear your name get called through the rubble and dust flying around the temple and you spin on your heels to see where the voice originated from. You let out a shaky breath when you noticed it was Anakin, and he was okay. 

“Ani!” You whispered and ran over to him and tightly embraced him in a hug. He hugged you back and buried his head into the side of your neck and inhaled your scent.

“You’re okay, I was so worried for you,” Anakin said, biting back a sob.

“And you’re okay,” you giggled when he began to kiss you tenderly on your cheek. 

“Of course I’m okay. I am the Chosen One afterall,” he said with a hint of pride in his voice. You rolled your eyes at his banter and gently kissed his cheek. 

“Where’s the Sith Lord? Did you arrest him?” 

Anakin hummed in acknowledgement before continuing to kiss your cheek passionately. 

“Anakin–I’m trying to have a conversation with you,” you giggled in between kisses. 

He sighed heavily and stepped back a bit to look you in your eyes.

“We managed to arrest him, however, Master Windu was. . .killed in the process. Which leaves Obi-Wan as the new Head of the Council.” 

You gasped at the news and you felt your eyes burn. Master Windu was your own mentor when you were a Padawan, and basically the Father figure you never had. Even though he seemed very distant and cold-hearted, he would once in awhile have his moments that left great memories of the time when you were a Padawan under his authority.

“It’s alright, darling,” Anakin said, kissing your lips gently. “He’s in a better place now.” 

You nodded your head slowly, and buried your face into the crook of his neck. 

“Let’s go home, Ani.”

+++

Not long after Order 66, you and Anakin officially left the Jedi Order and got married. It was a small but beautiful ceremony; with only a few people invited. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padme Amidala, and Anakin’s old Padawan, Ahsoka Tano.

About a year later, you brought two beautiful children into the world: Leia and Luke Skywalker. Leia looked a lot like you, but had Anakin’s strong will and personality. Meanwhile, your son looked like a spitting image of your husband, but he had more of your quiet and laid back personality. 

Now, your twins were nearing the age of thirteen, and you couldn’t believe how fast your small babies were now young adults.

One problem, however, was the constant worry of your children being abducted from you due to them being related to Anakin. You both were aware that both Luke and Leia had a bounty on their head worth thousands of credits. Anakin and Obi-Wan had both tried to investigate who was behind the order of their capture, but they never succeeded. So, you found yourself being incredibly over-protective of your children.

You homeschooled your children because you were scared of them walking by themselves to and from the public school. You didn’t allow Leia to go out with just her friends even if she was accompanied by their parents, and you never allowed Luke to be outside by himself. 

Were you taking all precautions a bit too far? Of course you were. You and 

Anakin loved your children and were too attached to risk the chances of them being taken away from you. 

+++

“Mom, dad, can we ask you something?” 

You looked up from the holopad you were scrolling through and noticed Leia and Luke were both standing in front of you with anxious looks on their faces. You raised your brow and beckoned them to walk up closer to you.

“Yes you two?” Anakin said with a small look of concern on his face.

“Umm. . .” Luke started to say, but immediately lost his train of thought and snapped his mouth shut.

“You know how today marks the fourteenth year of peace throughout the whole galaxy, right?” Leia began.

You glanced at Anakin and noticed he was also confused as to where this conversation was going.

You nodded your head at your daughter to continue and she shakily inhaled.

“There is a parade and fair–”

“No” you and Anakin said at the same time sternly, knowing exactly where this was going.

“But why?” Leia pleaded, tears began to form in her crystal eyes. 

Luke sighed heavily, and with heavy footsteps headed to the staircase to head to his room.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“Leia, we have been over this many times. I would have thought you would know by now.” You said.

Leia’s face slowly morphed into one of pure grief and frustration. 

“I HATE THIS! You and dad worrying about EVERYTHING!! This whole thing is so stupid!” And like that, she stormed out of the room and slammed her bedroom door when she reached it.

You shook your head and looked at your husband to see his reaction and noticed he was already looking at you.

“She is kind of right, you know?” You began. “Our children are basically secluded from the rest of the world, let alone other kids their age. It wouldn’t hurt to let them go out once, would it?”

Anakin hummed in thought. 

“I’ll think about it. I think you might be right.” 

“The parade doesn’t start until nightfall, so you just sit there and put your one brain-cell to work, darling.” You teased as you stood up from the couch you were previously relaxing on and began to head to the kitchen.

“At least I have a brain-cell, sweetheart.” Anakin bit back to which you turned around to smack him on the top of his head.

He chuckled and grabbed a hold of your wrist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

“You are such a bully, darling.” Anakin shook his head. You huffed at that.

“And you aren’t?” 

“No, I am just your teasing husband.” He said, glancing at your lips before pulling you into a long and passionate kiss. You hummed and smiled into the kiss. You reached your hand behind his head, and moved your hands into his hair, before pulling hard on it, causing Anakin to jump and disconnect your lips.

“HEY! You’ll pay for that!” He warned with a slight smile on his face. You rolled your eyes before squirming out of his tight hold. 

“Only if you can get me!” You giggled lightly before sprinting out of the room and running up to your joined bedroom. 

+++

“Ugh, why is mom and dad so strict?” Leia complained as she dramatically plopped onto her brother's bed. Luke shrugged and continued to tinker with Lola, Leia’s small robotic companion. 

“And you are so helpful Mr. I-don’t-dare-disobey-my-parents.” Leia said with venom  laced in her voice. 

Luke sighed heavily and ignored the rest of Leia’s banter.

After a stream of censored cursing and complaining about how her life is so miserable, she decided that she was going to take matters into her own hands. 

“I am going to sneak out of the house.” Leia said with some excitement in her voice. 

Luke just about choked at his sisters ‘revelation”. 

“Umm. . .no you aren’t” He said sternly.

Leia chuckled before sliding off his bed and began to walk over to her slightly older brother. 

“You aren’t the boss of me Luke. What are you going to even do, cry and tell mommy and daddy? You’re no fun at all. In fact: you’re straight up boring. I don’t need your consent. I’m doing what I want.” 

And with that, she stormed out of the room.

Luke sat at his desk quietly, thinking hard.

“She wouldn’t actually do it, will she?” He asked Lola, who was still off and had most of her parts laid out on the table.

He sighed heavily but decided his sister didn’t have the guts to carry out such a dangerous idea.

Or, so he thought.

+++

“Leia?! O.M.G girl, I thought your parents were gonna say no to you turning up!” Leia smiled when she recognised the face of her best friend, a Twi-Lek named Brigade, and her friend, Han Solo. 

“Yeah, they did say no. But I came anyway.” Leia said matter-of-factly.

Brigade gasped and squealed with excitement.

“About time you take control of your life! That’s so badass of you!” 

Han Solo chuckled at that and patted Leia’s head fondly. 

“And if anything happens, don’t forget I’m here.” he winked. 

Leia rolled her eyes at his playful banter and noticed that the streets of Coruscant was more packed than she expected.

“Wow, there’s a lot of people here.” She trailed off.

“Yup. But it’s normal for an event like this.” Brigade said casually. 

+++

“Luke, what do you mean she left?” I panicked when I entered Leia’s room and found it empty with her window wide open. 

“I-I am so sorry, mother.” Luke stuttered. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it and decided against telling you. I should’ve and I am so sorry.” 

Anakin had his arms crossed and he was staring at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. You cleared your throat to gain his attention, to which he obliged. 

“Ani? What are we going to do?” 

“Well, we need to go find her, first of all. But this event is a planet-wide thing and I don’t even know where to start looking.” 

Luke gulped and began to burst into tears. 

“I am so sorry! It’s all my fault!” 

You reached out to your son and hugged him tightly, kissing him on the top of his head. 

“It’s all of our faults. We have been too strict with you children and this behaviour was bound to happen eventually. If anything, it’s our fault.” You said calmly, glancing at Anakin to see him nodding in agreement.

“Now, let’s go find your sister.”

+++

“Umm. . .are you sure this is safe, Brigade?” Leia asked, gulping heavily when Brigade split up from Han Solo and was leading Leia away from the rest of the crowd to an alley-way close by.

“Yup! Totally safe. As long as you're here with me.” Brigade said carelessly. 

Leia nodded and tried to take her friend’s advice to heart, but through the force, she could sense something terrible was about to happen.

“Well, well, well. Look-y here! The Twi-Lek actually did it!” Leia heard a voice from behind her and she spun quickly on her heels and noticed there was two masked people in front of her. A man and a woman.

“What are they talking about?” Leia asked cautiously.

Brigade slowly faced Leia with an emotionless expression.

“You should’ve stayed home, Leia. Coming out here by yourself was foolish.”

“What do you mean? What are you on about, Brigade?”

“When I first found out how high the bounty was for you and your brother, I knew I had to get close to you. I’m sorry if it hurts, but my family needed the money.”

Leia felt hot tears fall down her cheek at the news. Her childhood friend had been using her this whole time? 

“What the Kriff, Brigade. You traitor. I thought we were friends!” She sobbed. 

Brigade continued to stand completely still without showing a pang of regret.

“So sad, but we have no time for theatrics! The big man wants the job to be done A-S-A-P. We have a ship to catch.” The woman said carelessly, as she dug into a satchel that was around her shoulders and pulled out a big sack of credits.

“A thousand credits, just as we promised you.” The man said.

Brigade caught the bag and opened it and looked over her newly-earned loot.

“Thank you, Leia. You just saved my father from a certain death.” Brigade said with a small smile on her face.

Leia felt strong arms grab her by the shoulders and she felt herself get yanked to the ground.

“I got you Leia!” She sat up and noticed Han had rushed into the alley and was now fighting for his life against the two masked people.

“Run! Get out of here!” He yelled at her. Leia quickly scrambled to her feet and rushed out of the alley, searching for the direction home. 

But, once again, she felt someone grab onto her, making her let out a bloody sounding scream.

“Leia, it’s okay!” 

Leia recognised the voice of her father and latched onto him tightly.

“Dad! I am so glad I found you! You and mom were right! Everything here is dangerous, please take me home!”

“Leia, what happened?” you asked with a calm voice bending over slightly to reach her eye level.

“Alley-way, and Brigade selling me or something and- O.M.G! Han is there all by himself! He needs help!” Leia exclaimed with complete terror and worry laced in her voice. She pointed at the direction she came from and her father nodded and began to rush that way.

When he was out of sight, Leia looked back up at you and could see that you were smiling and looked the complete opposite of how she expected.

“Why are you smiling? I thought you’d be so mad at me.”

“Oh, I am mad at you, Leia.” Your eye twitched in annoyance. “But I am so thankful that you are alright and nothing happened to you.”

Leia sniffled some more and buried her face into your warm body.

“I’m sorry, mum.” Leia cried.

“Shh. . .let’s talk about this when we get home.”

+++

“So, you actually were going to take me and Luke to the event?” Leia asked with complete disbelief in her eyes.

You nodded and looked over at your husband who still was nursing a bruise he had gotten from the fight on his left cheek. 

“Yes, your father and I have decided that we can’t make you guys live in solitude for all of your childhood, so we agreed to take you out into the city some more. However, because of your behaviour, you should expect to not be going anywhere for a week.” 

Leia nodded in understanding, but she couldn’t help but smile.

“You’ve actually decided that mum?” She asked.

You chuckled and raised your arms to invite your two children into a hug. They both giggled and practically jumped into your arms, making you fall back a bit.

“I love you mom!” They both said at the same time.

“Hey! How about me? I saved your friend and got your ‘attempt captors’ put into custody!” Anakin said with a fake frown on his face.

“Yeah, thank you father.” Leia said with a genuine smile plastered across her face. Anakin also smiled and joined the group hug.

The Skywalker family was happy and safe once again.

A/N: OMG!! This x reader was different from the ones ive previously written, i hope you enjoyed it! And thank you for requesting it! I enjoyed writing it so much 

Sorry if there was any mistakes or repetitive sentences, I am a bit too lazy to try and proof read it but ill do it eventually.

Love ya all!

-Will

[daisychainsandbowties]

actually (i’m not sorry) let’s talk about force-bonded jedi knights Shannon and Mary.

“A Force-bond was a powerful connection between two Force-sensitive individuals that bridged their minds, allowing them to communicate through the Force both visually and emotionally.

The range of the bond was vast; it could span the galaxy, keeping two beings united in a psychic link despite the physical distance between them. As a result, both parties would manifest in each other's location at the same time, making it possible for them to see, hear and feel each other through their bond.”

thinking of Shannon standing in the hallway watching death approach and reaching out, finding that familiar hand, half-memory and half-desire. clutching it even as she raises her saber in the last extreme defense of Ava.

burning her life because she used to dream of holding a blue saber, of going out in glory, but love taught her to long for balance, for harmony, for peace. for green.

and she would have lived in peace, with Mary on some far-flung planet. tinkering with ships and growing too old, too fast. fixing up droids and complaining about the weather and painting the shutters in spring.

but she’s a jedi, so what she has is only an instant of that peace as she feels Mary come awake in a distant place. one last prayer on her lips. “let it be safe. let it be safe and very far away.”

whispering, “i’m sorry. i couldn’t face this part alone.”

distance had never stopped them and it doesn’t stop Shannon from dying with Mary’s arms around her.

they grow up hand-in-hand, youngling Shannon missing a piece of herself until she finds Mary. this odd, thoughtful girl from incredibly far away, who knows about engine specs and torque but not the laws of physics.

telekinetically passing her notes in class, sending them adrift like little white birds. Mary initially dumps them all in the wastepaper bin at the end of their classes, head spinning with physics and math and chemistry and kinetics and protocol and all the myriad things a jedi must know.

but eventually she unfolds them, hiding her blush with her binder of notes. chickenscratch handwriting and little diagrams of a cartoon Shannon (labelled) bonking a cartoon Mary on the head with a saber.

back when Shannon thought hers would be blue.

Mary most at home with a practice blade in her hand, trying to get used to the airy spaces in the jedi temple, quiet courtyards and the soft shuffle of pages in the archives. she sneaks into the hanger bay (as Ava will, in another decade) to look at the ships, to touch them, remembering the desert and the podracers kicking up sand. storms sweeping in to eat the sun.

scowling when Shannon takes her lunch tray over to sit at the far end of Mary’s table, so she can wink at her.

and then, one day, looking up and finding her beautiful.

after that they sit next to each other. binary stars slipping into orbit, trading from tray-to-tray; blue milk for the strawberry one. Mary eating Shannon’s greens when the jedi look away.

Mary growing closer almost against her will to this whirlwind of a girl. how she spars in the early morning with the empty air. she wakes up early to watch, pretending it's the dawn that draws her down, peering around a pillar, stunned at the grace of Shannon pivoting through the air, flipping over imaginary opponents.

asking her, as they perch on a balcony to watch the sunset over the endless cityscape, “why did you bother with me?”

Shannon has her face pressed sleepily into Mary’s shoulder. she plays with the hem of her tank top, “what d’you mean?”

“it just… seemed like you wanted to know me before you even knew me.”

“i did.”

Mary, turns her head, looking at the profile of Shannon curled up against her. warm. “yeah, but why?”

“i don’t know. i just had a feeling.”

they go together to Ilum, to get their kyber crystals, running through the icy cave systems. Shannon helps Mary when they climb and Mary clutches a half-conscious Shannon to her chest when they fall into freezing water. “i got you.”

“i k-k-know.” through chattering teeth, Mary letting Shannon slip her cold hands under her shirt for warmth. a wicked smile in the ice-warped dimness. "s-s-score."

saber fights late at night with blue offshoots of light dancing around their bodies. green sparks shattering against the stars. laying there tangled in their exhaustion, always drawing even. Mary kissing Shannon’s forehead, looking at their lightsabers sitting side-by-side. blue and green.

“we should kiss.” Shannon says this out of nowhere with the air of someone who has been thinking about it for a long time.

she’s half-draped over Mary’s chest, head on her ribs. “i can hear your heart,” she adds, when Mary loses the ability to speak.

Shannon sits up, turns. she’s about to say something when Mary lurches up, takes her by the jaw.

they kiss, and nothing is ever the same again.

[kanerallels]

Today's Spring Fling prompt from @monthly-challenge is Yellow! I wrote it shortly after 3x09 of The Bad Batch, and it was somewhat inspired by this post by @nimata-beroya!

It had been a full year. A year since Order 66, since the Jedi were declared betrayers and were, subsequently, massacred at the hands of their clones.

A year since Quinlan Vos’s life, so recently put back together, was torn to pieces again.

The first time, in all fairness, had been largely his fault. And he’d lost a lot then. But he’d been making things right, working for good again. He’d even been finally allowed back in the field, back fighting the Separatists.

And then. In the blink of an eye, in one order from the Chancellor— or should he say the Emperor— it was all gone. Vos had felt the lives ripped away through the Force, leaving an empty, black hole where they had been.

The Jedi were no more.

He was alive, Force only knew how. A combination of dumb luck— he’d been scouting ahead when the order went through�� and skill. His stomach churned at the memory— he’d had to cut his way through too many of his men. Far too many.

And even as he set off an explosive, destroying the remains of his commander and his men, leaving behind the charred shape of his lightsaber— minus the crystal, of course— Vos couldn’t help but think of the others.

He knew Kenobi was alive, obviously. He’d gotten the message to stay away from the Temple while hunkered down in one of his hideouts in the Outer Rim, trying to figure out what the kark to do next. But the rest? Master Yoda, Master Windu? Thousands of other Jedi who he’d known, fought alongside? His own apprentice was among the dead. The painful memory lanced through him— of going to Felucia, finding the place where she fell. And then causing a huge ruckus trying to steal back her lightsaber from the troopers who’d taken it.

And then there were the clones. Vos wasn’t totally sure what had happened. And he hadn’t been with his clone commander for long. But Harrow was a solid guy, and wasn’t the type to just start shooting at you. The clones had been loyal to their generals, so something here wasn’t right. Vos’s current operating theory was that it was something to do with Dark side manipulation. Which meant Cody, Harrow, and thousands of others had been bent to the will of a Sith.

People had been hurt. People had been killed. And the only thing Vos could do about it?

Hide.

He hated it. He really, really hated it. The closest thing he had to family had been massacred, and all he was doing about it was dropping off the radar. Vos should have been fighting back.

But Kenobi had said keep your head down. And Vos tended to trust him. So he was keeping his head down. Besides, the Empire would be a tough nut to crack, even as a Jedi. Not impossible, mind. But tough.

So he’d disappeared— something he already had some practice in. Cut his hair, hid all relics of his former Jedi life, and just… blended in. Suffice to say, it was not the easiest thing he’d ever done. But Vos had picked it up eventually. Now he had a job and a tiny apartment and a grumpy neighbor, and he wasn’t dead. All very important things.

But now it had been a year since his family had been slaughtered. And things were only getting worse, and Vos was getting antsy.

So, he decided, maybe it was time to do something.

It started out when he was heading back to his apartment after work. Usually his neighbor, Traz, got home around the same time, and Vos liked to bother him for a little while. The grumpy Mirialan’s dry sense of humor reminded him a little of Obi-Wan, who he missed. A lot. So it was really hard for Vos to resist teasing him a little.

Today, when he headed up the creaky stairs to his floor, Traz was there at his apartment door, like usual. But he wasn’t unlocking the door. Instead, he was facing two stormtroopers, both carrying blasters.

Vos kept his gait casual as he approached, taking in the situation quickly. One of the troopers was talking, and Vos caught the last few words. “—provide some kind of ID soon, or you’ll be taking a trip with us to our commanding officer.”

Oooh, Vos thought. Terrifying. But when he looked at Traz’s face, it was clear his friend thought it was exactly that terrifying. His green skin was a chalkier shade than usual, and his hands were clenched into fists. “Like— like I said, I left it at work. I’ll have it soon, just—”

“Hey, there, friend,” Vos said, strolling up behind the troopers. Draping his arms around their shoulders, he gave Traz a wink. “Didn’t know it was a party— am I invited?”

Oddly, his presence didn’t seem to bring Traz much comfort. The troopers didn’t appreciate it much either. Shoving him backwards, one of them leveled a blaster at him. “Who are you?” she barked.

Holding his hands up, Vos said, “Easy there, troopers. I’m just heading home from work. The name’s Vos. What’s the problem here?” Snapping his fingers, he said, “Traz! Did you leave your ID at work again?”

A look of confusion crossed Traz’s face, which wasn’t surprising since to Vos’s knowledge, the Mirialan had never done that. He was fastidiously careful about that stuff, like Obi-Wan. Kark, I miss that guy.

“So he claims,” the other trooper said gruffly. “But he’s required to present identification. What’s your chain code?”

Panic flashed across Traz’s face, so quick that Vos only barely caught it. Ohhhhh. He doesn’t have one. Wonder how that happened. “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” he scoffed, keeping his tone cheerful and laid back. “I mean, look at the guy. He’s never broken a rule in his life.”

“This is none of your concern, citizen,” the first trooper snapped. “Go to your apartment.”

Okay, so we’re not playing nice. Time to bend the rules a little, I guess. Stepping forward quickly, Vos slipped between the stormtroopers and Traz. Blocking his friend’s view, he spread his hands. “Hey. There’s no need for all this— you don’t need his identification right now, do you?”

At the same moment, he pushed his intention through the Force. Come on. Work. Don’t let them catch me.

There was a brief pause, then the first trooper said, “There’s no need for all this.”

“We don’t need his ID right now,” the second trooper agreed. And with that, they turned and headed back down the stairs.

Releasing a sigh, Vos rolled his shoulders to release the tension. He hadn’t used the Force in public since… probably since I stole Aayla’s saber back. Oof. But kind of impressive— close to a year, and I still got it. Not bad, Quinlan. Holding back a grin, he glanced at Traz.

The Mirialan was staring at him, eyes wide. “How?” was all he said, confusion bright on his face.

Shooting him a wink, Vos said, “I won’t say anything if you won’t.”

For a minute, Traz didn’t speak. Then, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” And with that, Vos strolled into his apartment, feeling a tiny flicker of success. He’d done something. For the first time in months, he’d done something.

Nothing else happened the next day. But the day after— his day off— someone knocked on the door in the middle of Vos’s meditations. (which he still tried to do, when not absolutely exhausted from work. He couldn’t let go of it, not after a lifetime of being a Jedi. If it put him at risk… well, at least life would be a little more interesting.)

Hopping to his feet, Vos crossed the room and opened the door. Outside stood Traz, and with him was a blue-skinned Twi’lek girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen. 

Technically, she didn’t look like Aayla. But the serious way she studied him when he opened the door almost knocked him off his feet, pain clawing at his chest as he pictured his apprentice in her place. Ow. Nope. She’s gone, and not a kid. She’s gone, Quinlan. Let it go.

Taking a quick breath and trying to pretend that he wasn’t gripping the door frame to keep himself steady, he gave them a quizzical grin. “Hi?”

“This is him?” the Twi’lek girl asked Traz. She sounded deeply skeptical, and Vos held back a laugh. Probably he should be offended, but he really couldn’t blame her. He was currently wearing lounge pants with porgs on them, and an ancient band t-shirt for someone called the Twisted Rancor Trio.

“This is him,” Traz assured her. “He saved me from getting dragged into the Imperial headquarters the other day.”

Uh-oh. “This is true,” Vos agreed. “I am a naturally charming guy like that. How is this relevant, and are you trying to sell me something? Cookies, perhaps? Because I will shell out a couple credits for cookies.”

Rolling his eyes, Traz muttered, “And now you see why I didn’t think he’d be useful.”

The Twi’lek girl, however, was smiling. “I’m not here to sell you something,” she told him. “I’m here to ask you if you want to help more people.”

One of Vos’s eyebrows shot up. “Say what now?”

“We’ve all seen the Empire doing terrible things. And we all know that what they’re doing is wrong,” she said, her voice lowering slightly. “And you acted on that. So… I’m wondering if you’d like to do that a little more often.”

Ooooooh. This was dangerous. It was probably pretty stupid, and the exact opposite of keeping his head down. But… he’d had enough of keeping his head down, and he’d done his fair share of bad. It was time to do something good.

“You better come in,” Vos told them, stepping back from the door. “Let’s talk business— anyone want some snacks?”

They did, in fact, want snacks. As they munched on the snack cakes Vos had bought a few days earlier, the Twi’lek girl— who introduced herself as Tyala— explained the situation. She and Traz knew a lot of people who didn’t have chain codes, or who were fugitives from the Empire in one way or another. Traz himself was among the group without chain codes.

“But I had to stay here,” he explained. “Tyala’s on her own, and—”

“Everyone’s pretty sure I’ll get myself arrested without someone keeping an eye on me,” Tyala said, rolling her eyes as she munched on one of the cakes. Vos noticed her nails were painted a bright shade of orange. “Although I’ve never been arrested before, unlike some people here.”

Ignoring her, Traz said, “Besides, I couldn’t turn my back on the people here.”

“Good for you,” Vos told him. “So what would I be doing?”

The duo exchanged a look. “Well,” Tyala said, “you’re a lot better at talking your way past Imperials than we are. How about escorting refugees off the planet?”

Vos grinned. “That sounds like my style.”

And that was how things began. Every so often, Traz signaled Vos that they were ready for him to sneak a group past the Empire’s eyes. From there, Vos met Tyala at an old abandoned factory and picked up the group. He’d had to scrape together enough credits to buy a ship— a rickety old freighter which just barely ran— but it was worth it to be doing something. To help families to freedom.

The other two in the group never mentioned the circumstances under which Traz had decided to recruit him, which Vos appreciated. The less they knew, the better, and they seemed to recognize that.

(they’d had one talk, he and Traz. Once, where the Mirialan had mentioned his cousin had been taken by the Empire. “My family always thought he might be… different,” he said, significance heavy on the last word. “Jedi different. And then the Empire came in and took him. We haven’t seen him since.”

Vos hadn’t said anything about it, other than a quiet “I’m sorry”. Truth be told, it was probably better they didn’t know what happened to the kid. Force knew what the Empire had cooked up for Force sensitives.)

And so things settled into a new, far more tolerable (if nerve wracking) rhythm of working, then saving people right under the Empire’s nose. A few months in, and Vos was finally getting used to things— when everything was thrown into chaos again.

It started when Traz was arrested. Vos was on his way back from a trip, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. He was halfway up the staircase when he stopped. Because suddenly, the adrenaline wasn’t just that. It was a warning, humming through the Force.

A crowd of troopers were standing at the top of the staircase, and two more were leading Traz out of his apartment. The Mirialan made eye contact with Vos, and mouthed, Go.

For a moment, Vos hesitated. He couldn’t just leave his friend, couldn’t just let him be taken by the Empire. He knew what would happen. They both did.

But there was more at stake than just him. So Vos spun and darted back down the stairs, past the troop transport he’d completely missed. Someone shouted something at him, and Vos put on a burst of speed. It was time to disappear.

But he couldn’t do that quite yet. His go bag was stashed on his ship, and he carried some of the more important things with him at all times. But there was no way he could leave Tyala. He already hated himself for leaving Traz behind.

I’ll come back for him. But first things first, I get Tyala clear.

While it had never been clearly stated where the Twi’lek girl lived, Vos was pretty sure the abandoned factory where they met was a safe bet. She’d never really hidden the fact that she lived on her own, but without parents or an actual job, she couldn’t have an apartment.

When he made it to the factory, Tyala was waiting for him. “Traz sent a message, said he was— was compromised,” she told him, her voice hitching a little. “Is—”

“The Empire has him,” Vos said quietly, and a flash of pain went across the Twi’lek girl’s face.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay. Then we have to go.”

Vos’s eyebrows went up. “I… yeah, but I expected a lot more arguments about that.”

“I promised him I’d run if he got caught,” Tyala said with a shrug. “And… we’re outnumbered. The two of us couldn’t do it— could we?”

There was the slightest whisper of hope in her last words, and Vos hated himself for crushing it. “No,” he said. “We’d need more back up, and we don’t have that. Yet.”

Nodding, Tyala said, “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff.”

She disappeared into the doorway behind her, then returned a minute later with a satchel slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them headed to the spaceport, evading Imperial patrols with practiced ease. The attendant at the spaceport knew Vos well enough at this point, so it was just a matter of a few credits under the table, and in no time at all he and Tyala were headed for his ship.

As they boarded, Vos heard voices behind them. The filtered voices of stormtroopers. His heart jumped painfully in his chest, but he didn’t flinch. Casually, he hit the door control, and the ramp started to close.

“Did they spot us?” Tyala asked softly. Clearly she’d heard the troopers, too.

“Don’t think so— but let’s make tracks, just in case. Do you know how to co-pilot?”

“Not really,” Tyala confessed. “I’ve never had to.”

Shrugging, Vos said, “You’re gonna learn on the fly, then— literally. Ha, I’m hilarious.”

Tyala rolled her eyes, but she looked a little less nervous as they hurried into the cockpit. 

The takeoff went fairly smoothly. Sure, halfway through the Empire noticed and tried to tell them to stop, but Vos had chosen his spaceport carefully. By the time they had TIEs in the air, the freighter was through the atmosphere, and Vos was splitting his attention between watching the radar and showing Tyala how to complete calculations for hyperspace.

And then they’d made it, and a weight eased off of Vos’s chest. Sitting back in his chair, he let out a long sigh. “Nice job, kid.”

“Thanks,” Tyala said, her voice quiet. Vos shot a glance at her, watched her fidgeting with the strap of her satchel, yellow painted nails startlingly bright against the dull fabric.

“Hey,” he said. “We’ll go back for him. We just need to find some backup, and come up with a plan.”

“Where are we going to find either of those?” Tyala asked.

“Well, the plan comes from my genius level intellect. The backup… I still have friends out there somewhere.” Hopefully. “Just give it some time,” Vos assured her. “Traz will be out in no time. Now, you want something to eat?”

Tyala, looking slightly less worried, nodded, and Vos headed into the small galley. Their supplies were dwindling, to say the least, and it took a little digging to unearth something edible. But eventually, he came back to the cockpit, an odd assortment of canned fruit and crackers piled in his arms.

When he strolled through the door, Tyala was sitting on the floor, the contents of her satchel spread out in front of her. “Just making sure I have everything,” she explained.

“Smart,” Vos said, dropping down across from her with a grunt. Setting down the food, he glanced at the small array of items. Some he expected— three bottles of nail polish, in varying stages of nearly empty, a vibroblade tucked in a sheath, a spare set of clothing.

There was also a holodisk, a datapad with a cracked screen, something wrapped in pale blue cloth, and a piece of stormtrooper armor. Vos frowned at the last one— the pauldron was cleaved cleanly in half. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at it.

“Oh— I found it on this Imperial transport on Pantora,” Tyala explained. “Traz and I kind of had to steal it to escape some Imps before you showed up. It was super weird— we thought it would be hard, but all the troopers were gone. This was all that was left.”

“Can I?” Vos asked, and she nodded. “That is weird,” he mused, reaching for the shard of armor. “It’s cleanly cut— almost looks like a—”

His hand closed around the armor, and—

“Stop her!” the panicked shouts of his fellow troopers echoed almost as loud as the blaster fire they directed at their target. Scrambling backwards, he wished— not for the first time— that he’d never signed up for the Imperial Army, that he’d told his girlfriend goodbye properly, that he’d stood up to his commander when she’d ordered them to kill their prisoners, that he hadn’t gone into work this morning—

The two troopers to his left fell, and he had a good look at what was attacking them for the first time. His first thought was that it had to be a ghost, or a creature risen from the depths of the snow around them. Her skin was bone white, but dark gray lines crackled across it in jagged patterns. She was dressed in dark clothing, and the yellow saber she carried glowed against the armor of his companions and the snow.

The saber carved an arc towards him, and he jerked to the side at the last minute. Pain exploded through him, and a chunk of his pauldron clattered to the ground.

“Please,” he gasped. “I didn’t want to—”

“Then you should have grown a spine,” she growled. “Then you should have spoken up against it, and been shot rather than follow an order so vile.”

“I know,” he whispered, and he did. He hated what he’d done, and there was nothing he could do to make it right. So he closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come.

Only it didn’t. And it didn’t. And it didn’t, until finally, he looked up tentatively. The ghost woman was studying him, her expression impassive. Then it twisted with irritation, and she muttered a curse under her breath. “Fine,” she bit out. “You’re going to live.”

“I— I am?”

“Oh, don’t look so excited. You’re going to help me to pay off those debts. And don’t try and thank me, it’s not my first choice. But…” a trace of what looked oddly like sadness crossed her face. “I know someone who’d want me to make this choice.”

“Vos? Vos, are you okay?”

Vos blinked unsteadily. He was on his side, clutching the piece of armor so tightly it dug into his palm. Tyala was crouched over him, concern bright in her eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

Vos opened his mouth to answer, but instead, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it, even with the terror the trooper had felt still buzzing through his bones. Because he knew the woman in the vision.

She’s dead, he thought giddily. There’s no way. I brought her home myself. But it had been very clear to him that he hadn’t understood everything about Dathomir, or their ways.

And the woman carrying the yellow saber had been, unmistakably, Asajj Ventress. The former Sith assassin turned bounty hunter. The woman who had sacrificed her life for him. The woman he’d fallen in love with.

“Vos?” Tyala was watching him with great concern.

Sitting up, Vos grinned at her. “I’m fine.”

“Cool. What the kark was that?”

“Psychometry,” he told her, opening his hand and staring at the piece of armor. “I can sense memories— echoes, really— in inanimate objects. Things the owner left behind, if it’s a personal object. Or, you know, a really strong memory.”

“And… this one was?” Tyala guessed.

Nodding, Vos said, “Oh, yeah. And there’s good news about it, too. I think I know where we can find that backup I mentioned.”

Well. He didn’t know exactly where. But Ventress was alive, against all odds, and he knew where to start looking. Luckily, she made quite an impression, so it might not be too hard.Even if it was? Well, Vos didn’t give up easily. I’m on my way, Ventress, he thought. I promise.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Reason 552 Barriss should’ve been (Fulcrum) in Rebels: how much harder the Luminara episode would’ve hit if she’d been there.

Barriss had never expected to see her master alive again. She'd lived with her death for a decade and a half; Barriss had felt the Purge, and so few had survived. But she'd never been sure, and the scant hope she'd kept alive for so long had desperately wanted to believe that Trayvis's info was good, that Luminara lived, that she could find her master again. And she had. Imprisoned in a cryogenic coffin, fifteen years gone and dead, her once-master. Luminara Unduli, Knight of the Jedi Order, General of the 71st Elite Corps, Master to a traitor and heretic. Dead, just like the Republic she'd defended.

They'd put her in a force-damned sarcophagus and used her bones as a beacon, tempting survivors to their deaths. Barriss wanted to cry, to scream, to be sick. It wasn't right. Jedi burned their dead. Barriss should--what? What should she do? What could she do? There was no fuel for a pyre, no Masters to preside, no one left to mourn. No one but Barriss, and Barriss was a traitor. She could not give her a proper funeral. Luminara was dead, and still, Barriss failed her. That was all she could ever do, it seemed.

She rested her head against the cold transparisteel of the casket. It was all so wrong. She remembered her last conversation with her master in a cold, featureless visitation room of Coruscant High-Security Republic Penitentiary. Luminara had told her that the Jedi had managed to get her execution date permanently postponed, and Barriss had cried. She'd told her she was being deployed to Kashyyyk, and Barriss had cried. She'd told Barriss goodbye, and Barriss had cried. She'd done that a lot back then. It seemed she was getting back into the habit.

Tears froze on the cold surface of the coffin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but what she meant was, could I have saved you? If I'd been there, if I'd never Fallen, if I was still your student, would you be safe? Could I have taken the blaster bolts for you, let you get away? Is there a world where our places are inverted? "I'm so sorry, Master. I don't... I can't..."

She remembered Luminara’s smile. Her gentle, firm presence warm and welcoming even when Barriss had been at her lowest, screaming her hatred from behind cell walls. “It does not matter what you have done, Padawan,” Luminara had told her when she had finally seen the truth of the Temple bombing, sobbing on the floor of her cell. “All that matters is you see the light, change your ways and make amends. It does not even matter if you fail along the way. The dark road is treacherous and difficult to climb out of. What is important is that you try.”

Barriss Offee was not a Jedi. The Temple was destroyed, the Council murdered, the Code abandoned. She could never call herself Jedi again and know that it was truth. That did not matter, not now. What mattered was that her Master was depending on her one last time. She could not hold a proper funeral, but that didn't matter either. She would try.

She stepped back from Luminara's coffin.

She ignited her lightsabers, one white, one blue.

She slashed through the transparisteel, careful not to let the blades touch her Master.

Cold white steam materialized as freezing, fifteen-year-old air leaked out.

Luminara's corpse fell forward, into the gouged transparisteel, with a small thump.

Jedi funerals were short, simple affairs. The body was ritually cleaned, then laid out on a stone slab. Any who wished to pay their respects could come to mourn. The ceremony was held exactly three days after death and lasted perhaps fifteen minutes. Afterward, their lineage would hold a small party, remembering the fallen's life and celebrating their memory. The dead were free, released to the total harmony of the Force. There was no need for extended grief periods or complex rites. A life was to be remembered, missed, honored, not held on to.

Barriss breathed out, composing herself.

There had been so many funerals in the war; Barriss knew precisely what to say and do. Her lips moved, almost on their own.

“There is no emotion, there is peace.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There is no death, there is the Force.”

She cried, and a small, blue flame ignited in her palm. She continued.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. You are one with the Force, as all things shall be. May you find justice; May you find peace. May the Force be with you.”

Her body shook with uncontrollable sobs. The flame in her hand grew larger and brighter. She cried as she pressed her hand against her Master’s cold, dead corpse and watched the fire take hold. The Force Fire left no smoke; it ate through Luminara’s body, dropping her ashes on the cell floor.

Luminara was free. It was too much. Barriss collapsed to the floor and wept.

[bolithesenate]

hiiii

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

sorry this took a while. i was hiking. and then i was sloshed from hiking.

13 - the big fat goose-egg is the norm. zero planning. even if I try to do planning, what I actually put down devolves from what i planned so quickly that it doesn't bear any resemblance to it anyways.

so why bother?

(that being said, I do come up with a lot of worldbuilding seperately and without it being tied to writing. Like, i will think up elaborate subsections to the jedi service corps and make flowcharts which i then can use in fics, but that's not tied to a specific project usually)

23 - vibes. i write until there is a good stopping point and i've reached the rough amount of words i wanna go for (i try to keep all my chapters at around the same length)

29 - i don't have anything that's i won't ever post, but u can have one of the mud fic deleted scenes that i haven't yet put into the deleted scenes fic :P

The flitting lights of Coruscant's nightlife blinking through the window painted Sifo's face into an ever changing cascade of wandering shadows. His eyes, whenever the light caught in them, had the blurred, dreamlike quality they often took on after a vision passed.

He was staring out of the window. Captured by the passing speeders and holo billboards.

"Sy?," Yan asked quietly, placing one hand on the other's thigh.

Almost unwillingly, Sifo pulled himself away from the mesmerizing view, directing his gaze towards Yan below him. 

As if only realizing now that the other Jedi was in the same bed, happy surprise rolled off him in gentle waves. Elation but no recognition. Yan's heart sank. He reached out in the Force, already guessing what he'd find.

Sifo's mind, normally a roiling cloud - gentle but powerful, always in a tug-of-war with the ambient Unifying Force -, was more akin to a light fog now. Spread out, barely more than a slightly louder whisper against the backdrop of the Temple's own hum in the Living.

Quiet fear gripped Yan.

This wasn't good. Not good at all.

Sifo hadn't felt this… thinned out in forever. Not since the first few visions, right after the incident itself, where none of them had truly known how to properly aid him through them. 

Yan pushed himself up, meeting Sy who - for some reason - had been straddling his middle halfway. His arms wrapped around his frail form, pulling him into a desperate hug. 

"Don't you dare lose yourself now, Sy. We've come so far," he whispered in the other's ears as he scrambled to, best as he could, help the Seer pull the bits and pieces of his being back together. It was like trying to catch fog with his fingers, always slipping through, barely following the paths he laid out. He tried to not let the fear get ahold of him. It wouldn't serve anyone in this situation. 

Sifo - Sifo's body, his mind was almost completely gone - let out a shuddering breath against the nape of Yan's neck.

It felt like the breath of a dying man.

Screw the Order's tenants. Yan was properly panicking now.

(This was too close, way too close to back then when Sifo had first lost himself to a violent vision. They had thought this under control. It wasn't supposed to happen like this anymore.)

Yan couldn't say how long he sat there, cradling Sifo close, pulling him back together like wet sand in the flood.

Piece by piece.

Memory by memory.

Every second he feared that he'd not be fast enough, feared that the bit of Sifo that remained - the bit that remembered that his body needed to breathe and his heart needed to beat. That he wouldn't irrevocably come apart when he was right there in his grasp.

The entire time, not that he remembered much of it, he was too focussed on gathering Sy's mind back together, Yan was muttering into the other man's ears. It just spilled out of him. Everything, from paltry stories to fond memories and ruthless threats that if he didn't come back… well, Yan wasn't sure what he'd do, but it wouldn't be in accordance with the Order's tenants. At all. 

Somewhere in there there might have been a confession of feelings he wasn't entirely clear on himself.

There might have been promises. Promises of a future together, bound by every vow and bond imaginable. Bound by so many ties that Sy would never get lost like this again.

[jedi-lothwolf]

The Merry Whump of May Day 2: "Don't You Dare."

Fandom: Star Wars The Clone Wars

Warning: Character Death

Summary: Obi-wan never thought a memory of the past would be ruined during the war. Anakin was never a fan of listening to other people.

    "Anakin, give that back." Obi-wan sighed

    Anakin held his master's lightsaber, taunting him. "What are you gonna do?" He was ready to run away. 

   "Don't you dare" Obi-wan told his Padawan.

    At the tail end of 'dare', Anakin took off down the hall. "Anakin!" Obi-wan yelled after him. Chasing him down the hall, the Jedi knew it would be a while before he got the boy to train. Like most ten year olds, he was difficult.

    However, Anakin was his padawan. Training him was a pain but something told him it would be worth it in the end. Watching the kid run away with his lightsaber, Obi-wan couldn't help but smile. As frustrating as it was, it had some humor to it.

    It had been years since Anakin had stolen his lightsaber and made Obi-wan  chase him around the temple to get it back. As the years passed, the little boy that Qui-gon had picked up on Tatooine, grew into an adult.

    Now the two brothers were generals in a war. They would fight side by side from time to time. Today was no different. "Hello Anakin."

    "Hey Obi-wan. Good to see you."

    "Likewise. Shall we go over the plan?"

    "Probably."

    Sitting together, the two looked over the battle plans and created them. They carefully thought out each attack and strategy, trying to find one that would take them to victory with the least amount of casualties.

    The battle had started as they normally did. Hours of combat seemed to never end. Now they were pinned.

    "What now?"

    "I have a plan but you're not gonna like it."

    "What's your plan?" Obi-wan asked Anakin.

    Explosions went off all around them. Obi-wan's ears were starting to ring, a sound he never did quite get used to.  "I'm going to take out the command tank."

    "You'll die before you get there." Dismissing the thought, Obi-wan started to come up with another idea.

    "Do you have such little faith in little old me?" Anakin joked.

    Rolling his eyes, Obi-wan ignored the comment.

    "I'm going to do it. It's our best shot."

    "Don't you dare." Obi-wan told his padawan.

    Anakin didn't listen. Running towards the command tank, Anakin deflected bullets. He got to the tank and slashed it with his lightsaber. The droids attacked the tank, using it as a weapon to kill Skywalker. Pieces of the tank scattered across the field. Anakin's body lie burned and still not far from the biggest part of the tank.

    "Anakin!" Obi-wan screamed, Cody kept him from going to him.

    The clone's arms wrapped around his body. "The medics will help him."

    The world felt colder than he remembered. Trying to shake the feeling of loss was harder with Anakin then Qui-gon. Then again, Obi-wan had time to grieve with his father.

    The battle couldn't stop for one man. If it could, there would never be any fighting. Kix pulled Anakin away from the scene and tried to find his vittles.

    Cody got Obi-wan away from the scene. The fight continued and ended with a Republic victory.

    Staying with Obi-wan, Cody never left his side. He already knew that General Skywalker had died. He had seen it in Rex and Kix's body language. Somehow, he knew Obi-wan knew.   However, for everyone's sake, it was best to keep that quiet.

    No words were exchanged when Kix hand Obi-wan Anakin's lightsaber. Maybe if Anakin had just listened.  Anakin never liked to listen.

[bananasofthorns]

omg the plural fox fic looks so cool!! Show/tell us more?

thank you!! the working title for the fic is system of a fox because I thought it was funny even though I don't listen to system of a down. the premise is that Commander decides enough is enough and goes to the Jedi Temple to get them help. this ends up revealing Palpatine as a Sith because oops! force lightning and also the Jedi can sense the darkness lingering in the system's mind from all of Palpatine's fuckery

the two headmates I headcanon Fox to have are Tens (it/its) and Commander (he/him). Fox is the host and fronts most often. Tens fronts to deal with authority figures and Kaminoans. Commander fronts when things are Very Bad, because he doesn't feel fear and he has less qualms about brutality and doing what needs to get done. Fox also does the things Tens and Commander do, but they take over when he is having a Bad Time and therefore can't do those things, or at least can't do them well - they keep the system from getting decommissioned or reconditioned for being "defective" because, you know. just clones things 👍

Tens also somewhat protects the system from mind fuckery because it locks away emotions and thoughts that aren't immediately necessary or helpful. if you're a Force user trying to get into their mind when Tens is in front, it's kind of like being faced with a smooth and near-impenetrable marble wall. Tens fronts least often and doesn't stay in front for long once its job (dealing with authority figures who want to hurt them) is done

bonus snippet from the fic under the cut :]

“I’m seeking medical assistance,” Commander replies.  “And is your own medbay not enough?” “Not for this,” he answers honestly. “We’re understocked. And...” Fox’s instincts, ingrained in the body as they are, are yelling at him to stop. He ignores them. “This was an injury caused by the Force. My medics wouldn’t know how to treat it.” It’s an educated guess. He’s only working off the memories of Tens’s memories right now, but he’s overheard stories from clones on the frontlines about the Sith and the lightning they shoot from their hands and the feeling of distinct wrongness that they exude. The conclusion, once he’s looking for it, isn’t hard to come by. “I also have intel about a possible Sith within the Senate,” he adds, because fuck it. He hasn’t come all this way just to get told no. The Temple Guards go very still and then exchange a look.

[wizardofrozz]

Commander Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Waxer, Boil, Oddball, Trapper, Wooley, Original Clone Troopers

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: brief mention of nightmares, light swearing

It had only been a little over a year. A year of blaster fire, shitty rations, and losing brothers faster and faster with each campaign. A year spent creating memories aboard a Venator-class destroyer while nightmares of Kamino started to fade. Cody lingered on the bridge of the only place that felt like home. Kamino wasn’t home, not really, but the Negotiator had started to feel like it. The barracks were teeming with laughter when the pain of lost brothers faded into a dull ache. The roar of voices filled the mess hall between one hyperspace jump and another. The horrors of war still loomed at the edge of their minds but without the longnecks staring down their noses at them, they could enjoy the company of their brothers.

         “Is everything alright, Cody?” 

And then there was the general of the 212th. Everyone from the shinies all the way to their Marshal Commander had grown fond of their Jedi.

         “Fine, sir,” Cody sighed, glancing at the Jedi standing at his side. Obi-Wan hummed, a sound Cody had come to recognize as the beginning of an internal debate. Well, Cody never was the best at white lies. 

         “This is your first Life Day away from Kamino,” Obi-Wan stated. It appeared he decided not to push him, although, the subject change seemed to come out of nowhere.

         “Yes, sir,” Cody agreed, shifting his weight. “Although, we never celebrated it on Kamino.”

         “How tragic,” Obi-Wan mumbled, a hint of a smile lifting his lips. “I quite enjoyed celebrating at the Temple. Actually, come to think of it, this will be my first Life Day away from home.” Cody hated the way his general’s face seemed to fall slightly, the implications of his words sinking in after a few seconds. 

         “How do you celebrate Life Day?” Cody was asking before he could think too hard about it. That was obviously the right question to ask when Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered to his face, bright blue twinkling in the glow of hyperspace. Cody wasn’t sure if he’d ever really seen the Jedi light up with excitement before and he silently pledged to make sure it wasn’t the last time. 

         “Well…” Obi-Wan chuckled, stroking his beard. 

Walking into the barracks was like walking into a wall and Cody nearly stumbled. Brothers talking from every corner of the room was headache-inducing on a good day but it seemed his men were extra rowdy today. He tried not to grimace when he moved by a few shinies that stiffened, debating whether they should salute or not. Thankfully, Trapper snapped his fingers, grabbing their attention again; Cody subtly nudged his shoulder in thanks as he passed. He scanned the bunks in search of two specific troopers, rolling his eyes when he found them sprawled out, asleep in a lump on some random bunk.

         “Wake up, assholes,” Cody grunted, kicking the leg of the bunk. Boil jolted awake with a snort, his head popping up from behind Waxer’s arm, blinking blearily at his commander.

         “What’d’u want, Cody?” Boil grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. Waxer grunted when Boil shifted to sit up, wildly smacking in his brother’s general direction. 

         “I need your help,” Cody huffed, trying to hide his amusement. Waxer and Boil groaned in unison and Cody lost his battle against laughter, earning a pair of sleepy glares.

         “With what?” Waxer yawned, attempting to roll onto his back. Boil grabbed him before he tumbled onto the floor, rolling his eyes at his brother before turning his attention to Cody again.

         “I want to get together a squad to help the general decorate for Life Day.” 

Silence. 

         “Excuse me?” Boil ventured, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. Cody sniffed, turning his head away from his men’s probing stares, feeling a little uncertain for the first time since he was a cadet.

         “He likes to celebrate it and this is the first year he’s away from home,” Cody mumbled, absently picking at a deep gash in his vambrace. Boil and Waxer shared an odd look, trying to figure out what to make of their brother’s unusual request. “Just…round up some men and meet me in the mess hall.” 

         “Yes, sir?” the pair chorused, watching Cody shuffle back the way he came. Waxer arched a brow but shrugged, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. 

         “Hey, Trapper!” Boil called, scooting to the edge of the mattress. A head popped up from a group of shinies, a dark brow raised. “Grab your boys and come with us.”

Obi-Wan dropped his head onto the desk with a loud thud, immediately wincing at the stab of pain rippling across his forehead. The screen of his datapad was burned into the back of his eyelids; apparently, he couldn’t get away from the paperwork if he tried. Obi-Wan debated on shoving the work aside and wandering off to find Cody again but the commander had hurried off a few hours ago with no explanation. Despite the loneliness eating him up inside, he didn’t want to smother his men. 

Obi-Wan missed his fellow Jedi more with each rotation. Anakin’s warmth, Ashoka’s teasing, Plo’s inappropriately timed jokes, Luminara’s laugh, and even Mace’s unimpressed sighs. Of course, he was bonding with his men, war would do that, but he could tell there was a disconnect. When he entered a room the rowdiness of brothers interacting would die down, thousands of heads turning in anticipation for what their general had to say. Yes, he was their superior and that level of respect and professionalism was expected but sometimes he just wanted to be Obi-Wan, not High Jedi General Kenobi. 

Obi-Wan sighed, letting his head rest against the cool desktop for a moment before getting to his feet. Maybe he could spend some of his pent-up energy walking through the ship. If he ran into any of his senior men, well that would be a plus. 

A few of the younger troopers he passed saluted him with a chorused general but Obi-Wan could feel their anxiety like a tidal wave and he kept walking. Most of his time was spent with Cody, understandably, but he had also started to form a tentative relationship with a few other troopers as well. Waxer and Boil would happily join in on conversations, Trapper liked to ask questions that didn’t earn him a glare from their Marshal Commander, Oddball and Crys would share stories of Kamino with him, and one of the younger troopers, Wooley, would spar with him when the chance presented itself. Despite his men slowly loosening up around him, Obi-Wan could still see the hesitation in their actions and feel their weariness in the Force. 

The shouted general from somewhere behind him snapped Obi-Wan out of his musing. 

         “Are you busy, sir?” Trapper asked as he closed the distance at a jog. 

         “Oh no, I was just…attempting to entertain myself,” Obi-Wan replied with a half-smile. “What can I do for you, Trapper?”

         “Uh, Cody was hoping you could come to the mess hall, sir, if you’re not needed anywhere,” Trapper explained. His helmet was missing allowing Obi-Wan to see the anxiety in the lines of his face. Come to think of it, Obi-Wan couldn’t think of a time he’d seen any of his men in anything less than their full kits aside from their missing helmets. 

         “Of course,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing for Trapper to lead the way. “Is everything alright?”

         “Oh, uh yes, sir!” Trapper rushed out, scratching the back of his head. When he didn’t offer anything else Obi-Wan swallowed down a sigh. He did his best to initiate small talk and Trapper indulged him but he could tell the clone was on guard and maybe a little confused. Thankfully, the mess hall came into view but that only seemed to send Trapper’s fear through the roof.

         “Trapper, are you sure everything’s alright?” he pressed, stopping the trooper with a gentle hand on his arm. Obi-Wan almost pulled away when Trapper’s eyes widened but he resisted the urge.

         “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

         “Granted,” Obi-Wan replied immediately, secretly hating the need to do so.

         “We’re not sure how you’re going to react to what we have planned and - and I guess I’m a little nervous.” Obi-Wan softened at the confession, a wave of affection sweeping over him as he thought of what was waiting on the other side of the door.

         “As long as it doesn’t injure any of us,” Obi-Wan teased, feeling lighter when Trapper chuckled, “I can’t imagine being bothered.”

Trapper blew out a long breath and nodded. He took a step closer to the mess hall, signaling the doors to slide open and Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at. Oddball and a few others from Squad Seven, Jumper, Jack, and Dover if his memory served him right, were tinkering with a pile of headlamps. Wooley and two of the newest troopers that had attached themselves to Trapper, Finn and Oz, were painting large pieces of flimsi. And lastly, Cody, Waxer, and Boil were arguing over something on the datapad sitting between the three of them. 

         “What - what’s going on?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, glancing at Trapper. Before he could get an answer, Cody looked up from the folded piece of flimsi in his hands and his face brightened. Obi-Wan sucked in a hissing breath, taken back by how…captivating his commander could be when his attention wasn’t consumed by the war effort. 

         “General,” Cody called. He used Waxer’s shoulder to get to his feet, resulting in his brother getting shoved to the floor with a yelp. Trapper hurried toward his little brothers, leaving Obi-Wan and Cody alone in the entryway. 

         “What’s going on in here?” Obi-Wan wondered, turning his head to find Cody already watching him. Outwardly, his commander looked just as in control as always but there was a muted sense of uncertainty hanging around him. 

         “You had mentioned that this will be the first year you’re away from the Temple for Life Day and even though us clones never celebrated it, we thought it might be fun to try.” Obi-Wan just blinked at him, trying to formulate a coherent sentence but Cody continued talking. “I was hoping you’d join us. We, well we aren’t quite sure how to decorate and the holonet only has so much information.” Cody watched him with a calculating look but there was no missing the glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

His men wanted him there. They were doing this for him.

Obi-Wan glanced at the men scattered around the room again. Finn and Trapper were laughing as Oz tried to dodge the paint they were flinging at him; somewhere in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind, he noted that they were only half-armored. Oddball was shielding his eyes from the now red light Dover had aimed at his face; the twins Jumper and Jack were testing the other headlamps, lighting up the table with a variety of colors. Obi-Wan belatedly realized that Waxer, Boil, Oddball, Jumper, Jack, and Dover didn’t have any of their armor on and he was positive this was the first time he’s seen any clone without the plastoid. He turned back to Cody who had his arms crossed as he kept an eye on his brothers and his mouth went dry when his eyes followed the definition of Cody’s biceps in his half-armored state. 

         “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable,” Obi-Wan reasoned, forcing his voice not to sound higher than normal. 

         “A little discomfort never hurt anyone,” Cody countered, arching a dark brow. When Obi-Wan just stared, still not catching on, Cody sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor. “This situation is unusual for everyone. No one knows how to act around you any more than you know how to act around them.” Obi-Wan wanted to be a little insulted that Cody could read him that well but it was a blessing in disguise. “Now, do you know how to do that paper-folding craft thing?”

         “Origami?” Obi-Wan laughed, biting back a smile.

         “Yeah, that thing,” Cody confirmed, waving a hand in Waxer and Boil’s direction. “Those two morons found Life Day ideas that are not turning out right.” Obi-Wan took a closer look at the pair in question, noting the mangled flimsi surrounding them, and smiled.

         “Let’s hope I can help,” Obi-Wan teased, gently nudging Cody’s arm. Waxer and Boil looked up as they approached, grinning at their general as he lowered into a cross-legged position opposite them. Cody plopped down next to him, grabbing the folded flimsi he must’ve been working on when Obi-Wan arrived. 

         “Here,” Cody mumbled, sliding the datapad to him as Waxer insisted he had figured it out. Boil disagreed loudly. Obi-Wan glanced between the mess of flimsi and the directions on the screen, scrutinizing their folds.

         “Ah, if I may,” he cut in, reaching for Boil’s monstrosity. He handed it over without argument and Obi-Wan could feel all three men watching his hands as he unfolded and refolded the creased flimsi. Obi-Wan presented the star with a bright smile, growing a bit bashful when Waxer and Boil studied it in amazement. 

         “See, mine wasn’t that far off!” Waxer cheered, shoving Boil.

         “I could’ve crumpled up a piece of flimsi and it would’ve looked better than whatever you managed to make,” Boil shot back with a smirk. Obi-Wan’s laugh surprised him but no one seemed to notice, their laughter mingling with his own. He took a moment to savor the warm, homey feeling in the Force as Cody and Boil continued to pick on Waxer. Obi-Wan had always felt at peace in the Temple but there was something different about being around the brothers like this. Being able to laugh and joke freely, to feel like himself again was what he was truly missing. 

So maybe he wasn’t away from home for Life Day this year. Home just looked a little different this time around. 

25 days of Life Day Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepingsun501​ 

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

Full-on disclaimer for anyone who's never seen the disclaimers on my Star Wars fics - I never saw ROTS (I've tried, I've fucking tried, but retaining knowledge of TPM and AOTC to understand ROTS is impossible when my mind just wanders the fuck away during every attempt at a marathon PT watch), I only saw a handful of TCW episodes to study Satine and Mandalore, I never saw Rebels, I haven't seen TOTJ, and my non-OT/ST/Mandoverse/Andorverse/Kenobi/TBOBF/Solo knowledge comes from getting lost in the Wookeepedia, fandom osmosis, and several years playing SW Galaxy of Heroes.

The point is, I have half-baked knowledge and I am trying really hard and I can see the little kernels of interest and intrigue and "A ha! that's a Star Wars!" and my concluding thought for the 3rd episode of Ahsoka is, "FUCK YEAH, SPACE WHALES!!!"

Can someone just.... please explain the fuck to me what Dave is doing here with Ahsoka and Sabine? I don't know if it's the "Sabine thinks the best way to honor and also find Ezra is to become like him" or the whole "everyone has the Force Actually but you need talent, training, and some other fucking thing that sounds exactly like all the times I've been scolded for not trying hard enough thanks to my ADHD brain so that's fucking cool" bit. I don't know if it's that interview press tour thingy where Daisy told Domhnall that even Hux has the Force! Everyone has the Force! The Force is in all of us! We can all become the Jedi! I don't know if it's George's original idea that everyone can use the Force but not everyone does that eventually got changed to "a certain number of midichlorians in your blood gets you into the Jedi Temple". Or is it the whole "the Force is female" campaign? Is it Disney saying, "You can be a Jedi, too!" Are we Spider-man-ing the Jedi? Is that's what's going on? What the fuck is going on? Someone please tell me how we got from "the Force is in all living things and some people are able to sense and use the Force" to "the Force is in all living things and also everyone is capable of sensing and using the Force with the right amount of discipline and training and desire/'can do' attitude" because it feels like I'm being lied to. I'm being fucking bamboozled about what I know about Star Wars.

I don't even know what to say about the spacesuit. Just a lot of hysterical laughter maybe. Cool idea and I bet the concept designs were real fun but still. Hysterical laughter.

Slap some green hair on a kiddo and call him half-Twi'lek. OKAY THEN. Brilliant character design y'all got going. I guess you'd rather invest in the Volume than practical FX and makeup and shit?????

You know that feeling where you have all these thoughts and feelings and WORDS at the tip of your tongue but you lack the vocabulary or the fucking memory to hold that vocabulary and use it well? That's what I'm experiencing after watching Hera argue poorly with Mon and the Senators (they just formed the band and it's not going well, or so they say). This characterizing of bureaucracy, politicians, government is useless, clunky, stubborn, foolish, naive, soft, obstinate for no reason other than to hinder the rogueish hero, is such a tired, cheap trope. Haven't we learned enough from American copaganda shows? Haven't we learned from watching our hero cops and detectives bending and breaking rules to catch the bad guys while the Internal Affairs people are antagonists, rule-abiding busybodies who don't see that they're only getting in the way of our intrepid heroes catching the real bad guys?! Politics is messy and it is complicated and it is hard and it does have people who did sit on the sidelines during the war but to villainize them just because they didn't fight in the war, they didn't lose friends and family and Kanan, they won't give our general what she wants? Or do these senators already have history in the GFFA that I would've already known if I already watched some other TV shows or read the 'pedia religiously?

I thought the first 2 seasons of the Mando Show explored the post-OT galaxy pretty well. I liked how Din and Greef called the New Republic "a joke" and insinuated that they were unreliable and can't be counted upon to protect little Outer Rim worlds like Nevarro from Imperial remnants. It gave the impression of a baby Republic that is trying hard but struggling and their patrols are stretched so thin because of Mon's decision to demilitarize the Republic, and that's why they're such a non-presence out here in the Outer Rim. That's why Carson went out of his way to recruit Cara. She's been out here, she's done shit, she knows shit, she knows the lay of the land, she can be the eyes and ears that Carson and the New Republic can't be. You can build so fucking much out of these little interactions and conversations... but Dave & Jon chose to make things easy for themselves by characterizing the New Republic as incompetent, feckless, nonsensible, cruel, decadent, apathetic, uncaring, utterly useless to our very active rogueish heroes. They fast-tracked the New Republic's downfall to make it so much easier to prop up our heroes, and for what? To remind us that in the end it all doesn't fucking matter because Starkiller Base blows it all up anyway?

At least, at least, make it look like our heroes fucking tried to rebuild the galaxy after the Empire fell. At least make the New Republic fumbling and earnest but ultimately weighed down by so many voices demanding that they be prioritized in the rebuilding. Mon's government inherited a really fucking bad situation but at least have them reach halfway to something that she and Leia can be proud of before the infighting started and political factions started ripping down all that hard-fought and hard-won progress. Talk about the fucking whiplash from the despair and hope of Andor to whatever the fuck Mandalorian Season 3 showed us and whatever the fuck Ahsoka is continuing to show us.

Anyway.

I get that having a droid sidekick is the Cool Star Wars Thing To Do, but should Huyang really be treated as a sidekick and an expodumper? He really fucking should have gone to Ossus with Luke but nah, leave that fucking loser to his own business ignoring Ahsoka and Hera trying to stop a new war that nobody believes is actually going to happen. I mean, if you really think about it, did Hera really sell anything to these senators? It seems to me that all they see is a general who has only known war and will only ever see war around every corner, in every nook and cranny, under every bed. Of course they're going to be fucking skeptical and of course they're going to question her request for even more resources to find Ezra and maybe stop Thrawn, and the fucking answer, Hera Syndulla, is to not question if these people ever fought in the Rebellion and shame them for the sacrifices they did not make. This is such fucking cheapsass writing and it really sucks all the fun out of the episode.

Speaking of fun, how about them space whales! Bring them back, Felony. I want space whales and I want space cats. Give me purrgils and lothcats all day, every day.

I can't stop thinking about Disney's decision to give Ahsoka a primetime slot. I can't stop thinking about why that show got a primetime slot and not any of the other ones. Is it the numbers? Are they trying to catch a particular kind of crowd? What are the numbers, Disney? Why won't you show us the numbers? Where the fuck are the numbers, Disney? What are you afraid of? What are you hiding? What won't you tell your writers and your actors, Disney? What aren't you saying?

Anyway, space whales rule and I got other goddamn shit to do like keep writing my own ideas on a post-OT galaxy through fic.

P.S. The way Ray just fucking oozes charisma even if he was only there for like 2 minutes. And Diana remains fantastic. I love her brand of villainy even if I'm still baffled by her being a human Witch. What the fuck.