#clone trooper boil fanfiction

[firstofficerwiggles]

Right, so ever since that last time with the Wolffe story you wrote for Butterfly and your comment on Boil loving hugs? I could not get that out of my mind and he has been stuck there ever since. So, now I am going to sent in this official request! Boil x F! Reader. As I do with almost all my requests I always mention the full bodied ( or big gal ) reader because... relate to it and stuff and ofcourse: Hugs !. Everything else I leave up to you the whole SFW/NSFW/Established Relationship/Not Established etc etc. ( still blaming you for adding Boil to my mind now btw )

Ok so I have been batting around this idea for forever and I finally have a fic for you! I really hope you love it and fall in love with Boil all over again. For your humble consideration...

The One that Matters

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Plus Size Female Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: body issues, insecurity, fat shaming, swearing (fairly mild though), kissing

Word Count: ~3000

Author’s note: This is technically a two-parter but part 2 is rated M and contains the smutty part of the story. I split the story so those of you who want SFW can enjoy part 1 without it. Special thanks to @imabeautifulbutterfly @kavecika and @mysticalgalaxysalad for beta reading!

Part 2 link

You stare in the mirror, tugging slightly at the top you had just put on with a new pair of stylish pants. The outfit had seemed so cute in your mind, but on your curvy body, the top seems less flattering than you had imagined it. You sigh, wondering again if this was a bad idea, going out on a date with a clone trooper. This is the fourth outfit you’ve tried on and nothing seems quite right for a dream date with such a hunk. You give yourself another look in the mirror; you know you’re an attractive woman, you’ve always felt pretty enough, and you’ve had your share of dates, but Clone Trooper Boil is on another level. With his gorgeous face, soulful eyes, broad shoulders, and ample muscles, he is, without a doubt, the handsomest man you’ve ever met. 

Despite your protests that you just wanted to stay home, your friend Jaxie had dragged you out for some fun, vowing to take you to a place where there were sure to be loads of men excited to meet a woman exactly like you. Sure enough, the famed clone bar, 79s, had delivered on the promise of a ton of worked up soldiers, partying hard. There had seemed to be an endless supply of them, each one as tall, dark, and handsome as the next. Still though, next to the petite and beautiful Jaxie, you started to doubt that any of those troopers would look your way. Yet to your surprise, it only took one trip to the bar before you found one who couldn’t seem to stop looking your way.

As you cut a path through the crowd, sidling up to the bar in the middle of the packed club, you could feel someone watching you. You turned slightly to see a clone trooper with orange and white armor, a mustache, and a half smile looking at you. You looked over your shoulder to see if Jaxie was next to you, but she had stopped to speak to someone a few paces back.

“I’m looking at you, beautiful,” a deep voice came from his direction. He sounded amused but friendly.

“You are?” you couldn’t keep the note of surprise from your voice as you looked back at him and into those golden brown eyes.

“Absolutely I am,” he gave you a broader smile, and held out his hand, “Clone Trooper Boil, ma’am, and I’d be honored if you’d let me buy you a drink, beautiful.”

The way he’d looked at you so sincerely as he told you he thought you were beautiful that you’d let him get you that drink. Before you knew it he was telling you how his buddy, Waxer, had dragged him out the club against his wishes. He’d been of a mind to head back to his barracks for the night when he saw you heading his way, and he decided maybe Waxer had been right about this place. The next thing you knew, you had spent all evening talking to him, exchanging comms and making plans for tonight. He even gave you an extended hug goodbye, being sure to tell you how great a hugger you were.

*ping*

Message from Boil> Hi beautiful! 15 minutes away, can’t wait to see you!

Message from you> Ok! See you soon!

Determined, you look yourself in the eye through the mirror,

“A gorgeous man has asked us out to dinner and a show and we are going to go. He thinks we’re beautiful and we are going to trust that his taste is the only one that matters. Now, let’s get to that closet and find something to wear.”

Energized by your pep talk, and motivated to get moving before Boil arrives, you march back to your selection of clothes to see what you can find. Pushing through items that seemed too much like workwear or too casual, you finally land on a forgotten dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding. You’d only worn it once, but it is pretty and in a color you love. It had seemed too fancy to wear to work and you hadn’t been out anywhere special in so long that you had forgotten it was here. Quickly you slip it on, careful not to muss your hair or makeup, and then turn to glance at yourself once more. As the skirt twirls elegantly around your legs, you finally smile at your reflection, this will be perfect.

As you’re grabbing your bag for the evening, you hear your door chime.

“Wow, you look fantastic, even more beautiful than the night we met, and I didn’t think that was possible,” Boil greets you with a soft lopsided smile. He’s wearing his formal uniform tonight instead of his armor and he looks dashing in the grey-green suit. 

“And you look even more handsome,” you reply with your own beaming smile. 

Your stomach flips as your eyes roam over his impressive form. He’s so broad and muscular, and has such a stunning face that again you can’t believe your luck in getting to date him. A slight feeling of insecurity hits you though as you wonder what people will think when they see you together. Pushing that evil thought away, you remind yourself that their opinions don’t matter, and you straighten your shoulders as you mentally remind yourself that you are going out to enjoy yourself. 

Boil leans in to kiss your cheek and pull you into a quick hug. He wonders if you can hear his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He’s been looking forward to tonight since you agreed to the date. He sneaks another peek at your delectable curves as you step out your door. Stars, she’s so damn pretty! His hands itch to run over the lovely slopes and dips of your body, wondering if your skin is as soft as he has imagined it to be. He’d love to pull you into a passionate embrace right now and kiss you until your toes curl, but that might be a bit too much for the start of the night. Shaking his head to help himself focus, he quickly takes your hand and wraps it into the crook of his elbow as he leads you out to his borrowed speeder for the night.

“I hope you like Corellian food?” he asks, “I made a reservation at a restaurant my general recommended. He said it’s a very nice place with a lovely atmosphere and perfect for a romantic evening.”

“That sounds great,” you reply, delighted that he’s thought so much about the date. Other men you know would just leave all the planning up to you or take you to whatever was closest and open.

Boil helps you into the speeder and he can’t resist dropping another kiss on your cheek as he does so. The traffic is fairly light right now so he feels comfortable sliding a hand from the steering to cover yours and hold it as he guides the speeder to the restaurant. He really hopes you like this place. He had been determined to plan the perfect date for tonight, something romantic and entertaining, that would hopefully entice you to want to see him again. He’d been trying to find ideas on his holopad while fending off his brothers’ dumb jokes about being as lovesick as a shiny with his first weapon when General Kenobi had thoughtfully provided him with advice. He’d already secured tickets to what was supposed to be the hottest new performer in town, but getting the suave Jedi’s tips for where to take you to dinner had been much appreciated. As you arrive at the location, its elegant velvet awning and uniformed doorman, tell him that he was right to trust the general’s opinion.

“What a beautiful restaurant! And everything smells so good,” you tell Boil as you’re seated at an utterly charming candlelit table. A waiter pours you a glass of wine, in a crystal goblet no less, and then leaves you to decide what to have from a mouthwatering selection of cuisine. From the fresh flowers on the table, to the soft lighting and romantic music playing, Boil couldn’t possibly have selected a more perfect first date location. He takes your hand once again, and gazes into your eyes,

“I’m so glad you like it, and from the looks of things, we’re going to have a fantastic meal,” he says, sounding eager. 

“I don’t suppose you get to have many fancy dinners as a trooper,” you reply, feeling a touch sad for him.

“We get great food when we’re on the Negotiator,” he explains, “But rations when you’re out in the field can leave a lot to be desired. Still though, I’m grateful to have them.”

“I’m sure you are, but I’m glad you’re getting to have a really special dinner for a change,” you comment.

“It’s special because I’m with you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hand. 

The dinner is everything he hoped it would be, the food is exquisite and the company even more so. He listens fascinated as you tell him about your life on Coruscant, your work, and your desire to travel more once you can do so safely. He regales you with stories of his missions, focusing on the entertaining or interesting aspects of his brothers and their exploits. Boil tries to only tell you about happy or good things that have happened to him, but when you gently explain that he doesn’t need to sanitize his life for you, he feels grateful in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“You’re sure you want to hear about the bad stuff too?” he asks, still a bit unsure.

“Boil, I want you to feel free to share things with me, even the bad stuff,” you reassure him, “I know you’re a soldier and that means you’ve seen and experienced terrible events. I’m not saying I need every gory detail, but if there’s ever anything you need to talk about, I just want you to know that I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, that’s comforting and honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he admits, looking into your eyes, “The other women I’ve met have just wanted to hear about the excitement.”

“I really want to get to know you, Boil, and that means hearing about all aspects of your life,” you tell him, then adding with a soft laugh, “Like the way I told you all about my witch of a co-worker, and that certainly wasn’t pleasant. But I wanted you to know what my job is really like.”

He nods in agreement with you,

“Well, when we were talking before about being grateful for food, even military rations, it made me think of a recent mission I completed on Ryloth.”

Different from his earlier stories that were meant to charm you, Boil tells you about seeing the starving Twi’leks on Ryloth and how badly they had been treated by the Separatist occupying forces. He expresses his shock and concern for people that he had previously dismissed as being weak, and he was embarrassed that he had been so quick to judge them at first. The more he talks, the more you lean in, fascinated by him. His openness and forthright attitude are refreshing and your admiration for him only increases. As he finishes his story, telling you about helping the little Twi’lek girl find her family, and discovering that she saw them as brothers, you have to wipe back a tear.

“Boil, you are a real hero, the way you helped that child and her people,” your voice gets a bit choked up, “I wish more people could understand how much you and your brothers have given to this galaxy.”

“I didn’t tell you that story so you’d think I was a hero,” he mumbles, looking down at the table and feeling a bit bashful.

“I know you didn’t,” you reply, reaching out to caress his cheek and encouraging him to look back at you, “But that just makes me like you even more.”

“I like you too, beautiful, more than I can say,” he responds, bringing your palm to his lips so he can place a warm kiss there.

Boil feels as if he could spend the rest of the evening just staring into your sparkling eyes, but he remembers the tickets he purchased and the second part of the date.

“We should probably leave if we want to get to the show on time,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. 

As you slip your hand into his, you ask, “What type of show is it?”

“A comedian,” he explains, “He’s supposed to be really funny. One of the Naval officers, Lieutenant Commander Rampart, was telling me how great he is when I was looking for ideas for our date.”

“Sounds fun, lead on,” you reply.

When you arrive at the theater, you see it’s designed like a cabaret with little tables all around instead of seats in a row. You’re a bit surprised when the usher leads you all the way down to the front near the stage, they’re the best seats in the house. 

“This is very nice,” you say to Boil.

“I didn’t realize the seats were this good, honestly,” he tells you.

“We like to recognize our military patrons,” the usher explains, “Please enjoy your evening.”

Before you have a chance to order drinks, a server brings a bottle of sparkling wine to your table,

“Compliments of the gentlemen over there as a thank you to the brave soldier,” they say, placing the bottle down with a small flourish. 

“That’s very kind,” Boil replies and you both wave over at the other table in thanks.

“I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who recognizes your important contributions to the war,” you say, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Boil’s cheeks flush slightly and he looks a little embarrassed, “I don’t deserve any special treatment.”

“It’s nice that people recognize all that you sacrifice for us, I wish more people would,” you tell him. You’ve seen too many people be dismissive of the clone troopers, so it’s really nice to see people treating Boil with respect.

You enjoy the wine with him and soon the show begins. The man who comes out on stage is extremely sarcastic and while you find yourself giggling at some of his first jokes, as he continues on with his set, you find yourself laughing less and less. His jokes seem rather mean spirited and they’re starting to be offensive. You notice that Boil is also not laughing and he sits stiffly in his chair. The audience has quieted down a lot and it’s clear to the performer that they’re not in agreement with him.

“Well, geeze, rough crowd tonight, I guess you all left your senses of humor at home,” the man jeers at the audience, “Let’s see who’s here and forgot how to laugh.” He looks right at your table, sizing up Boil, 

“Oh, we got one of the copy and paste boys here tonight, a clone trooper. What’s the matter, pal, missing the old tube tonight?” The man laughs at his own joke but the rest of the audience is silent. The jerk continues, speaking to Boil like he’s a child, “I know you’re probably just a few days old, but laughter is this thing we do when things are funny.” 

You see Boil’s fists tighten and his jaw is stiff, you can practically feel the anger coming off him. 

“Obviously the Kaminoans forgot to add a sense of taste when they churned you boys out huh? I mean look at what you’re with tonight, yuck,” the jerk turns to look at you now.

You feel a sense of dread go over you and you try to shrink down in your seat. You wish he would just stop. 

“I know you boys are hard up for female company, but I’m sure you can do better than this tub of lard. Don’t let her be on top tonight or you’ll have to report another casualty to the GAR.”

You feel awful, so embarrassed and humiliated.

“That’s enough!” Boil pushes his chair back and jumps to his feet so fast that it crashes to the ground with a loud bang, “It’s one thing for you to insult me, but to insult a lady is despicable. You’re a sad excuse for a man if you think it’s acceptable to make fun of someone’s appearance for your own amusement. We live in a galaxy of incredible beings of all different bodies, shapes, and sizes, and yet assholes like you still think women are only acceptable if they match your particular preferences. My girl is beautiful the way she is, and I’m honored to be with her. I’d get up there and kick your ass, but we’ve already wasted enough of our valuable time together listening to your sorry excuse for comedy.” 

Boil turns to you and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. He places your hand on his arm and moves to walk out. You hear the comedian call out,

“If I wanted your opinion, buddy, I’d ask a droid, at least you can tell them apart.”

Boil stops for a moment, he turns back to look at the jerk. But before he can say anything, someone throws a bottle on the stage where it crashes at the man’s feet. 

Someone in the crowd yells, “The trooper’s right, you’re an asshole.”

More bottles and glasses are thrown amongst shouted insults at the comedian. Boil hustles you out of the theater, but you turn back just in time to see a particularly large glass hit the guy in the head. It makes you laugh in spite of it all.

When you’re back out on the street, Boil takes you a little ways away from the theater to a small plaza where there are some pretty potted flowers and trees with little twinkle lights. He leads you to a bench and motions for you to sit. When he looks at you, his eyes are soft but worried. He turns to face you, taking both of your hands in his, “I’m very sorry I brought you to that awful show tonight, and I’m sorry you were treated with such disrespect.”

“Oh, Boil, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known he would say such rude things to us both. I’m sorry he was disrespectful to you too,” you reply. Then thinking of the way he jumped to your defense, you smile up at him, “But the way you stood up for me, that was truly honorable, and I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I think I finally understand why women say ‘My hero!’ to the guy in those cheesy romance holofilms.”

“How could I not defend you? It was the right thing to do. Any real man would do the same, doesn’t make me a hero,” he tells you, looking a bit embarrassed at your praise. Before you can say anything else, he continues, his voice slightly husky with emotion, “I think you’re so beautiful, every part of you, I love all your luscious curves, and I have since the moment I first saw you.”

“Do you know what I told myself as I was getting ready tonight?” you say, “I told myself that when it comes to my appearance, your opinion is the only one that matters tonight. That man was a real jerk, but he doesn’t matter. You think I’m beautiful, and that’s all that counts tonight.”

“I like that,” he smiles at you, and his hand comes up to caress your cheek and jaw, “I’d like you to think that every night.” His eyes look down at your lips and then back up to find your eyes. “Can I kiss you? It’s all I’ve been thinking about all night, really since we first met.”

“Yes, please,” you just barely breathe out the words and his lips are on yours. Boil’s kiss starts off so soft and sweet, his lips moving lightly over yours as he pulls you into his embrace. A soft little moan sneaks out of your mouth, and Boil answers it by deepening the kiss, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips seeking entrance. When you grant it, you hear him groan in satisfaction as he holds you tightly to him, brushing his tongue over yours in a passionate kiss.

Boil holds you close to him as he kisses you, one hand at your waist while the other is on your upper back. His hands are itching to explore more, but you are in public and he doesn’t want to push his luck. Gently he breaks the kiss before he can get too carried away. When he looks at your pretty face, he thinks you look luminous with stars in your eyes as you gaze back at him so happy and content that it makes him smile even more.

“That was the best first kiss I’ve ever had,” you tell him, “In fact this is the best first date I’ve ever had.”

“Even with that awful guy?” Boil asks, surprised but relieved that you think so.

“That guy was an ass, but without him, I might not know how great of a man you really are, Boil,” you explain.

“Well, for our second date let’s skip the comedian,” he replies with that lopsided smile of his.

“You’re already planning our second date?” you ask with mock surprise.

“Sweetheart, I’m planning our second, third, fourth, fifth, hell, all the dates you’ll let me have.” His face is all lit up with the idea of a future with you.

“You can have all the dates you want, my handsome hero,” you answer him, “As long as I’m with you, the one that matters.”

Thank you for reading! Click here if you want the smutty part 2!

Tag list: @onabouteverything @kazthedestroyer @noodlesfics @ladykatakuri @boomtowngirl

[moriaarts]

Part 2 of Wooley’s adventures in Knitting

Waxer is Boils emotion translator and they are cuddle buddies, you cannot change my mind. (Especially since I live here in the RCAU)

[thegreymarveljedi]

A Teddy Bear Hug

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Okay! Here is my Obi-wan x Reader fic! This is an AU where Anakin does NOT turn to the dark side. He and Padme are raising Luke and Leia together, Ahsoka is a part of the order again, Jedi attachments are allowed, the Kaminoas were arrested, clones have stopped being made but the GAR is still a thing but clones have rights. Waxer and Boil live and over all I am very happy with how this has turned out.

I’ve had this story in my drafts for about a year now I finally had the motivation to finish it so I hope you all enjoy it!

Warnings: 18+ SMUTTTT, implications of sex, p in v sex, fingering, handy, allusions to oral sex, dirty talk, Obi-wan being filthy, teasing, FLUFFFF, Anakin and Padme cameo, lots of soft moments, a dash of angst if you squint, implied pregnancy, just super fluffy

Words: 5.0k

—————

The room was quiet, filled with a comfortable and calming silence. The curtains of the room were blown gently around by the breeze coming through the open window. The sun cascaded in, illuminating the two bodies that lay peacefully upon the bed in the corner of the room.

The covers were pulled up to their chins as they cuddled one another, keeping each other warm. Soon the women’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at the sight of her sleeping husband’s face. She slowly and softly brought her hand up and brushed some of his hazel brown hair away from his face, combing her fingers through it gently.

A smile graced the man’s face as he slowly opened his eyes, squinting a bit at the sun before looking into the eyes of his beloved wife. Both smiled and shared a gentle kiss before snuggling right back into each other.

“Good morning my love,” Obi-Wan said and brought his wife closer to him, his arms wrapping around her middle. (Y/N) smiled and grazed her fingers along his full beard, smiling at the stiffness of it and remembering the events of the night before.

“Good morning my handsome Jedi~” she replied, giving him another kiss before cuddling into his chest and bringing her hands to his heart. Obi-wan smiled and brought her closer, kissing her forehead, then her cheeks, then every inch of her face that he could reach.

She giggled at the actions and he let out a chuckle before rolling their bodies so that (Y/N) lay on top of him. She smiled again and kissed where his heart is before placing her ear against it. The rhythmic beating of his heart matched her own and in that moment they were one with each other, just as they had been the night before.

(Y/N) sat up slowly and moaned softly in pain before gently getting up and standing from where she lay, legs wobbling just a bit. Obi-wan whined and reached to grab her again but she laughed and moved from his hands. (Y/N) smiled at her husband, an adult by appearance, a child at heart, she thought and smiled.

Obi-wan looked at her and gave her his best pout but failed when he saw his wife giggle. Obi-wan smiled and sat up from his laying position and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, watching his wife dress in her undergarments and silk sleeping gown.

(Y/N) had her back to her husband but she could feel his eyes watching her. She peeked over her shoulder slightly before tossing his underwear at him and smirking, attempting to disappear into the adjacent fresher.

Obi-wan smirked, using the force to stop her from moving into the fresher. (Y/N) gasped as she was held in place, only being able to turn her head to look at her mischievous husband. Said man smirked and pulled her back to him with the force, wrapping his arms around her once she was in reach.

“I do believe that is not fair Master Jedi,” (Y/N) said as Obi-wan smiled into her shoulder.

“Well, I wanted you to come back,” Obi-wan said and kissed her shoulder. (Y/N) shivered, thinking back to last night and the things that took place.

“Obi…” she sighed softly, her husband moving his hands along her body. He moved one of his hands up her body to her neck, gently placing his hand there with no pressure as his other hand moved down to her thigh.

“Relax my love,” He whispered seductively into her ear, kissing along the skin of her exposed upper back, neck and shoulders. Her hands found purchase on his thighs, running her thumbs along them.

He continued his kissing while moving his hand farther up her thigh, moving under her sleeping gown to her panties. She began to pant and squeeze his thighs a little more to stay grounded, the feeling of her husband teasing her getting to her. Obi-Wan moved his finger to brush against her clothed clit, electricity shooting through her at the contact.

“My love…” she sighed softly and Obi-Wan smirked, moving his other hand down to fondle her breasts.

“Yes dear?” He whispered seductively in her ear, finally applying pressure to her clit and rubbing it in circles. Her head tilted back to rest on his shoulder as he pinched one of her nipples and continued playing with her clit. Her legs subconsciously widened, giving Obi-wan more access to her body.

“So responsive darling~” he said and bit down on her neck causing her to moan and buck her hips into his hand. (Y/N) whined as his fingers on her clit slowly came to a stop.

“W-why’d you s-stop?” She stuttered, bucking her hips to try and bring his fingers back. Obi-wan only chuckled and brought his hand back up to her throat, applying the lightest amount of pressure.

“To tease you~” he said mischievously before moving his fingers lower and slipping two in with ease. Her head fell back against his shoulder again as he began pumping his fingers in and out of her.

Y/N gripped his thighs as her toes curled at the feeling of her husbands fingers inside of her. Obi-wan smirked and added a third finger making his wife moan.

He always loved the sounds she made when he pleasured her. They were some of his favourite things to hear. He gasped softly as he felt her hand reach back between their bodies and grab his cock. Obi-wan was rock hard and he moaned as she began moving her hand up and down his cock as best she could.

“Fuuuck~ darling your hand feels so good wrapped around my cock~” Obi-wan groaned and moved his fingers faster causing (Y/N)‘s pace on his cock to stutter.

“Your fingers feel so good~ Obi, O-Obi~” she gasped and moaned, gripping his cock harder and trying to pump it faster.

Before she could blink, (Y/N) was on her stomach, hands pinned above her head and hot breaths fanning the back of her neck. Hot, wet kisses were being trailed down her neck to her shoulder blades. Obi-wan growled as he felt his wife wiggle her ass against his cock.

“Please~ please Obi-wan, please fuck me, I want you so bad~” (Y/N) panted and squirmed, trying to entice her husband to fuck her. Obi-wan just smirked and shook his head, leaning down so that he was practically laying on top of her.

“You want my cock in your pretty pussy? Is that what you want my good girl?” Obi-wan taunted, grinding his cock against her ass. All (Y/N) could do was nod and hope that was enough. Obi-wan seemed to be just as impatient because he pushed her night gown up to her midsection and pulled her panties to the side. He lined up with her pussy and pushed in without a problem.

“Yessss~ oh fuck Obi~” she groaned and bit her lip, pushing back just a little until his cock was buried deep inside her. (Y/N) moaned as Obi-wan began thrusting, his hand coming up to hold her’s above her head.

“Fuck your pussy feels so good wrapped around my cock~” he said as he thrusted into her. He groaned as he felt his beloved clench around him, only pulling him in further.

“I love it when you fuck me~ ah~ oh fuck, you fuck meee so g-good~” (Y/N)‘s sentences were barely coherent as her husband continued to rail her into the mattress. Her legs began to shake and her toes began to curl until she was just a moaning, whimpering mess.

Obi-wan smirked as he railed into his wife harder, his balls slapping her clit. She cried out as she came, trying to hold Obi-wan inside her as long as she could. He too groaned at the feeling of her pussy clenching around his cock, giving a few more shallow thrusts before he spilled into (Y/N)‘s waiting heat.

“Fuck you milk my cock so well pretty girl~” Obi-wan whispered in her ear, slowly pulling out of her and kissing down her spine. His wife smiled a lazy smile and carefully rolled over onto her back, letting Obi-wan’s hand go.

The two smiled at each other and giggled, taking a few moments to catch their breath. Obi-wan leaned him head down to connect his forehead with that of his beloved, whispering sweet words to her as she came down from the clouds. (Y/N) smiled and closed her eyes, letting her breathing and her heart beat slow to match that of her husband’s.

“Maker I love morning sex~” Obi-wan said smoothly causing (Y/N) to laugh a loud, hearty laugh. Obi-wan laughed with her before laying back down next to his lovely wife, placing an arm over her stomach and pulling her closer.

She obliged and turned to lay on her side, tucking herself back into her husband’s embrace. They stayed like that for another half an hour before the gentle beeping sound of the women’s comm drew them from their dozing. Obi-wan whined as his wife reached over to grab the comm, giggling at her husbands childish behaviour.

“Relax Obi,” she said and began scratching his head lightly, feeling him smile against her neck as she answered the still beeping device.

“(L/N) here,” She said and listened as there was a giggle from the other side.

“Good morning love birds!” came Padme’s voice from the other end, a deep chuckle following it making Obi-wan and (Y/N) smile.

“Good morning you two,” (Y/N) replied with a smile, continuing to run her fingers through Obi-wan’s hair. Obi-wan purred and buried his face deeper into her neck, placing a few kisses here and there.

“Are you guys ready yet? You know we have brunch plans,” Padme said and (Y/N) giggled.

“Yes I remember. We were getting ready but someone here wanted more attention,” She said and Obi-wan lifted his head, pouting at his wife.

“EWW! Okay I did not need that image in my head!” You heard Anakin groan in the background making you and Padme laugh.

“Just because your mind went to the gutter doesn’t mean that’s what we were doing Anakin,” Obi-wan scolded his former padawan making you and Padme laugh even more.

“What else would you be doing?” Anakin asked sarcastically. (Y/N) took a moment to think before she laughed.

“Touche Skyguy,” (Y/N) said and Obiwan and Anakin both groaned in annoyed unison.

“Enough you three,” Padme scolded playfully.

“Padme’s right. We can’t miss our reservations,” (Y/N) said, giving Obi-wan a kiss on the cheek.

“Ugh. Fine but you owe me cuddles later,” Obi-wan said and rolled away from her. (Y/N) just smiled and shook we head as she tossed the covers off herself.

“We’ll be ready in about half an hour you two,” (Y/N) said. Padme replied with a hum of approval and wished them a goodbye before hanging up.

(Y/N) smiled and placed the comm back on her night stand, staring up at the ceiling with a small smile before finally going to get up. When she stood up and stretched she heard the sound of blankets rustling before arms wrapped around her waist again and Obi-wan head buried gently in her back. She laughed a little and turned slowly until Obi-wan’s head now rested comfortably on her stomach.

“It’s time to get ready sweetheart,” (Y/N) said and wrapped one arm around Obi-wan while her other hand made its way up to run her fingers through his hair. Obi-wan purrred, loving the attention from his wife. Said women giggled at her husband’s antics and leaned down so she could kiss his head.

“Do we have to?” Obi-wan pouted again and (Y/N) laughed, running her thumb over her husband’s lip to smooth out his pout.

“Yes my love, we do. We’ve had these plans for over a week. And besides, Anakin is like your brother and I know how much this would mean to him to see you,” She said and Obi-wan sighed, mumbling about how she was right and how he missed him too. She smiled and kissed his forehead again before gently detaching his arms from around her and slowly making her way to the adjacent fresher.

Obi-wan smiled, shook his head and chuckled to himself, grabbing his clean briefs off the floor and putting them on, a pair of his training pants and his training shirt.

Soft singing could be heard coming from the bathroom and Obi-wan smiled as he listened to his wife’s beautiful voice. Even after hearing it every morning and every night for the past 6 years, he never tired from hearing her sweet notes. Obi-wan stood slowly and made his way to the bathroom where he found his beloved fixing her (H/T) hair. She smiled when she saw him in the door way and turned to smile at him just as she finished with her hair.

The couple smiled at each other again before standing side by side and following their morning routine, brushing their teeth, washing their faces, and making themselves presentable.

When they finished their routine, they walked out of their sleeping quarters hand in hand and made there way to the large open lounge room. They moved to sit on the couch together, watching as speeders and small transport ships moved through the sky’s of Coruscant. They smiled at the sight, then again at each other, sharing a long and passionate kiss before there was a small knock on the door.

Obi-wan groaned and (Y/N) giggled as they pulled away before the door slid open to reveal Anakin and Padme.

“(Y/N)!” Padmé said and ran to hug her friend. (Y/N) smiled and stood up, meeting her half way as they embraced each other tightly. “Oh Padme, it’s so good to see you,” (Y/N) replied before releasing her.

The two women then struck up a conversation, discussing how they would be getting to their brunch reservations. That left Anakin and Obi-wan to discuss things themselves.

“Hello master, it’s good to see you again,” Anakin said and shook his mentors hand with a smile. Obi-wan returned his smile and handshake before pulling Anakin into a hug. “It’s good to see you too, my friend.”

It had been a few weeks since the couples had see one another, each having their own matters to attend too.

Since the death of Chancellor Palpatine after the Jedi council discovered he was the Sith Lord, the senate had erupted into chaos. Many other shady dealings came to light; the involvement of the banking clan, the trade federation, and other ‘neutral’ factions who had once dealt with the republic and separatists.

Though that was 3 years ago, and now things were run quite smoothly as the senate was given to the senators and the people of Coruscant. Senator Organa was elected to supreme Chancellor after Padme had turned down the offer in favour of living a life with Anakin. She remained as the senator for Naboo, but now she and Anakin had two beautiful children to look out for.

After the discovery of the sith and the end of the war, Master Yoda had gathered the council to discuss what would be done to improve the order. There were many ideas thrown around but the main idea, was about the need for attachments. It was a very hard discussion, especially since the rules had been written long ago, but finally there were changes made. Jedi were free to live normally, attachments and all, as long as those relations did not interfere with there peace keeping duties.

The clones were given rights, they were given the freedom to remain as soldiers or to retire and live like normal men. They were welcomed and thanked for their services and sacrifices to the republic. The accelerated ageing process had been reversed and now all clones were able to age normally. It was a peaceful time at last.

“How are the twins?” Obi-wan asked as he and Anakin sat down in the sofa. Anakin let out a hearty laugh and pulled up a hologram of the two 3 year-olds.

“Still as troublesome as ever, but they’re happy they get to spend the day with Auntie Ahsoka,” Anakin said, causing Obi-wan to smile.

“She is very good with them,” Obi-wan replied and Anakin nodded.

“She’s a natural. Sometimes I feel like they listen to her better than they listen to me,” Anakin laughed and Obi-wan chuckled, watching Anakin’s shoulders as they heaved with his laughter. His posture was relaxed and calm, the aura that surrounded him was one of carefree feeling and happiness. It felt good to see his former apprentice in such a state, knowing that the war had taken its toll on him. But he was happy and that’s what mattered.

The men continued to talk and catch up as Padme and (Y/N) spoke quietly with one another in the kitchen over a small cup of tea. They continued to glance over at Obi-wan and Anakin periodically, not wanting them to hear of the conversation taking place.

“How are you going to tell him?” Padme asked with quiet excitement, joyful that her friend, basically sister (in law) was expecting.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I want to make it special. It’s something he didn’t think he could ever have, and I want it to be memorable,” (Y/N) said, hiding her smile behind her tea cup.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t sensed anything yet to be very honest with you,” Padme explained and (Y/N) gave a very large nod, hiding it with a giggle as Obi-wan caught her eye. He smiled at her and she returned it before going back to her conversation with Padme.

“I’m surprised too, he’s very perceptive and there is usually nothing that gets past him,” (Y/N) smiled fondly and Padme laughed, knowing how true that was.

“You’re right about that, but I’m always here to help you. If you need anything, please just let me know,” Padme said and took hold of (Y/N)’s hand and gave it a sisterly squeeze. (Y/N) smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before Anakin and Obi-wan came over to them.

“Are we ready to go?” Obi-wan asked, earning a nod from (Y/N) and Padme. Anakin wrapped his arms around Padme’s shoulders and kisses her cheek, the Naboo senator smiling at the display of affection.

“We’re ready my dear,” (Y/N) said and kissed her husband on the cheek, taking his hand and walking to the door with Anakin and Padme not far behind.

~Time Skip~

Brunch had gone smoothly, the conversation flowing and laughter ringing through the diner. There was calm and serenity and not much of any care in the world. Once the couples had finished their breakfast, they had decided to walk around the market and browse the stand that were present. There were different stands from different planets, all with their owe unique merchandise.

Obi-wan and (Y/N) walked hand in hand together, just admiring what other planets had to offer before Obi-wan stopped infront a stall that had maybe things but his eyes were set on a little stuffed bear; soft brown fur, beady black eyes and a small blue hand print on the right paw. Around the neck was a silk blue scarf, the same colour blue as his lightsaber. Obi-wan was mesmerized by the stuffed toy, gently picking it up and running his thumb over the hand print and scarf. (Y/N) caught this from the corner of her eye and turned to watch as Obi-wan smiled sadly at the bear, giving it a short hug before putting it back.

This sparked an idea in (Y/N)’s mind on how to tell him the great news. Obi-wan looked towards (Y/N) and smiled as he caught her eyes, making his way over to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“What did you find my dear?” She asked him and Obi-wan shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing love,” he said with a smile and let her go, walking to the next stall to see what else they had. (Y/N) cast another glance at the stuffed bear before she looked to the lady running the stall. An older togruta woman stood behind the stall, and her eyes watched as Obi-wan walked away before they met (Y/N)’s with a kind smile.

“Your husband?” The togruta asked, and (Y/N) nodded with a fond smile. The togruta held out her hand for (Y/N) and she shook it with a firm grip.

“Elira is my name. What’s yours deary?”

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you,”

“And you as well. Your husband is quite the looker if I do say so myself,” Elira said and (Y/N) chuckled.

“That he is,” she said with a fond smile and watched as Obi-wan continued to chat with another vendor a few tables down.

“You two make a very lovely couple, reminds me of when I was young and spry,” Elira said, a reminiscing look on her face. (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh, nodding.

“Thank you Elira, he makes me very happy and I hope to do the same for him soon,” (Y/N) said and Elira’s eyes lit up.

“Is that why he was looking at this?” She whispered, catching on to what (Y/N) was alluding too. (Y/N) shook her head, earning her a confused look from Elira.

“He doesn’t know yet, but I think I know how I’m going to tell him,” (Y/N) said and Elira nodded knowingly. “I’ll have a friend come pick up this little guy up for me. I don’t want him knowing just yet,” (Y/N) continued and Elira looked towards Obi-wan again. He had his back turned at the moment so she quickly took the teddy bear off the table and placed it in a box, hiding it under the table.

“It’s all yours deary,” Elira said in a hushed voice, smiling as (Y/N) mouthed a thank you before she heard her name being called. She turned to see Padme, Anakin and Obi-wan making there over, Padme holding a small bag and Anakin holding 4 more big ones. Obi-wan had his own very small bag, simple, with a flower on it.

“Did you find anything you wanted?” Obi-wan said and (Y/N) shook her head.

“Nothing yet my dear. But we can keep looking; there are many more stands to explore,” she said and waved to Elira as they left. (Y/N) then turned to look at Padme and Anakin, their purchases standing out a little bit. (Y/N) giggled and Padme smiled as Anakin didn’t look even the slightest bit embarrassed.

“What did you guys get?”

“Just some stuff for the kids and for Ahsoka as a thank you, all for very good prices,” Padme said and Anakin nodded.

“Yeah I’m just Padme’s bag holder,” Anakin said and Padme smacked his chest playfully.

“If I recall, three of those bags are yours Skywalker. Full of mechanical parts to ‘build Luke and Leia something’,” Padme said, using air quotes for the last part. Anakin huffed because he knew she was right but his intention were pure. As the two of them continued their playful banter, Obi-wan slipped his hand into (Y/N)’s as they walked along the market.

An hour or so later, (Y/N) slipped away from the group to go ‘use the washroom’. She walked towards a secluded area, where there was a washroom, but did not go in.

Instead, she made a holocall.

“Yes ma’am?” Cody answered as he picked up the call, his new military uniform on display with accents of orange as a tribute to his status as the commander of the 212th.

“Cody, I need a favour from you,” (Y/N) said and Cody’s eyes lit up as (Y/N) filled him in on all the details as well has her plan to tell Obi-wan. Cody was all for it and even asked Waxer and Boil to take time out of their day to help him.

~Time Skip~

It was a few hours after their market trip that (Y/N) and Obi-wan finally returned to their flat, a few bags in hand as well as some sweet treats for later. Obi-wan was the one to unlock the door, using his hand print and watching as the door slid opened.

What greeted the two of them inside was a shock to him, the room lit up with candles, leaving a comfortable glow around their apartment. There was food on the table, covered with steel lids and on the tea table, there was a box addressed to him with a note attached to it. Obi-wan looked at (Y/N) in confusion but (Y/N) just smiled and waltz into their home, placing her bag of goods down and walking over to the couch to take a seat behind the box.

Obi-wan followed suit, placing his items down and sitting next to (Y/N).

“What’s all this darling?” Obi-wan asked and (Y/N) just smiled at him, gesturing to the box in front of them. Obi-wan gave her another quizzical look before he pulled the box closer and opened it, a balloon being let out of it. Upon further inspection of the box, Obi-wan quietly gasped as he spotted the teddy bear from the market with a little note that read ‘Hi dada!’. Obi-wan was shocked, turning to see (Y/N) sporting a huge smile. He quickly put down the bear and instead, picked up the note that had accompanied the box and tore it open. Inside there was a message.

Hi Buir!

You don’t know me yet but soon you will and I know you’ll be the best most amazing dad a kid could ask for. I know I will have the most amazing mom to and the best Uncles and aunts to look out for me. I can’t wait to meet you!

Gar Ad’ika

The message was short and sweet but Obi-wan had tears in his eyes and they flickered between the Teddy bear, the note and his wife.

“Darling,” Obi-wan whispered as his eyes finally settled on (Y/N). She had tears in her eyes as well as she watched the pure joy on Obi-wan’s face.

“We’re going to have a baby?” He asked breathlessly and (Y/N) laughed and nodded, prompting Obi-wan to pull her into a bone crushing hug. He was in shock and ecstatic, continually whispering ‘I’m going to be a father’. (Y/N) hugged him back before he quickly pulled away and looked her in the eyes again.

“We’re having a baby?” He asked again and (Y/N) laughed with a nod.

“Yes my love. We’re having a baby,” she said and pulled out the ultra sound holo from the box, showing Obi-wan the outline of their baby. He gentle took the holos from her hand, running his fingers over them before he stood up and began jumping around the room like an excited kid.

“I’m going to be a father!!” He screamed happily, running back over and pulling (Y/N) off the couch and into his arms. He spun them around before her stopped and placed an affectionately large kiss to her lips. (Y/N) returned the kiss quickly, laughing at how happy her husband was.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he repeated again as the pair stopped spinning. Obi-wan rested his forehead against (Y/N)’s and took a deep breath. His excitement could be felt through the force, swirling around him like a warm hug.

“Yes,” (Y/N) whispered back and placed a kiss to Obi-wan’s lips. He returned it eagerly, pulling his wife closer to him. They pulled away a moment later with big smiles on each of their lips.

“How did you pull this off?” Obi-wan asked and (Y/N) giggled, pulling out her com and calling the person she asked for help.

“Congratulations General!” Cody, Waxer Boil and a few other members of the 212th yelled as the comm was answered. Obi-wan laughed as tears sprang to his eyes again.

“Thank you gentlemen. It means a lot,” he said and Waxer spoke up.

“You’re going to be an amazing father general. And that kid is going to have some amazing people to keep him safe,” he said and the rest of the boy nodded.

“I call teaching him how to fire a blaster!” Boil interjected and there was a chorus of laughs before Cody gave Boil a smack to the back of his head.

“Cool it soldier. You don’t know if this baby will be a boy or girl. And besides, they’ll be force sensitive so a blaster will be unnecessary,” Cody said and Obi-wan and (Y/N) shook their heads at the antics of the men.

“Thank you guys for helping me with this surprise. I think it went pretty well,” (Y/N) said and there was another series of cheers.

“Anytime ma’am,” Cody responded making (Y/N) smile.

“You know you don’t have to address me so formally Cody,” she said and Cody smiled.

“Of course…ma’am,” he said and (Y/N) shook her head. “Now! We will leave you both be to continue this celebration,” he finished and saluted his generals. The rest of the men he was with followed suit before the transmission ended, (Y/N) and Obi-wan being left alone once again. Obi-wan pulled (Y/N) into another hug, savouring this moment together.

“Thank you, my dear. This is the most amazing gift a man could ask for,” he whispered and (Y/N) gave him a squeeze.

“Of course. I love you Obi,”

“I love you too.”

—————

(Fully Edited Friday October 18th, 2024)

Comment if you’d like to see more Obi-wan content!

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clone Trooper Boil/Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars) Characters: Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Humor, Bad Humor, Puns & Word Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Waxing, Flirting, Getting Together, Mustaches Summary:

Boil stalked over from the door and pointed a finger in Waxer’s face. “Not a word of this leaves this room, understood?” he said forcefully.

Waxer just raised his eyebrows. “A word of what?” he asked, bewildered.

Boil sighed, the sound staticky through his helmet speakers. “Just… don’t laugh.” He reached up and pulled off his helmet, the seals hissing. As he lowered it and tucked it to his side he fixed Waxer with a hard look.

 Boil asks for Waxer's help with a problem that he thinks Waxer knows how to solve. Waxer doesn't have a clue but he's going to try anyway.

🕯️♨️🚻

My Week 2 fic for @waxerboilmonth! This is for the prompt “non-sexual intimacy” and I’ve decided this activity counts. Because the puns were too good. Sorry not sorry.

[catboydogma]

a dirty business (dreaming)

wc: 1,536

notes: second entry for coday bingo! no sergeants were harmed in the writing of this fic.

summary:

“Not to worry,” Cody said evenly. “Sergeant Wake stopped crying a few meters back. We’re operating at full functionality.” His bucket wasn’t completely empty. He’d brought a pair of medics and a full squad of ARCs and ARFs, leaving Lieutenants Boil and Gregor as in situ battalion commanders. And Howl. Maybe there was a reason to worry after all. “You’re a fuckin’ terror, sir. When you get up there make sure you give the General a piece of your mind for letting his comm die out like that.”

cross-posted to ao3

“Sitrep,” Cody demanded over comms. Boil’s end of the line fuzzed in contemplation.

“’S pissin’ rain, sir,” Boil said at last.

He’d suspected this would happen when he’d promoted Boil for his ability to think creatively under pressure and circumvent standards to play situations to his advantage. The whole lot of his Command Corps were like that. Unfortunately.

“No good trying to make it up that slope for a good look, sir. Last engagement compromised casing integrity on the rock-climbers and the rain’s got all in the engines. We’re sitting nunas ‘till the gunships get here. But—”

Boil’s brief bout of helpfulness died with the next blustery gust of wind. Sheets of rain sliced sideways across the sky for a long moment and frigid water sluiced down the neck of his bodysuit.

“—‘s pissin’ rain. Sir.”

“Astute as ever, Lt.,” Cody said evenly. Visibility was approaching a neat zero with the rain and darkness. The 212th couldn’t afford to tip their hand any more than they already had. Cody was already acting on the conclusion that their base coordinates had been compromised. If not for this damned rain they’d already be moving onward.

Unfortunately, aside from the rain and the predominantly dark rotations resulting from a far-off and geriatric star—aside from the hostile terrain and rockslides and mudslides and sinkholes and the Sith’s own bad luck—their Jedi General had gone and gotten himself stuck halfway up a cliff with a malfunctioning comm unit and a pair of his ARFs.

“The General can find his own way down,” Boil said at last. It sounded like it pained him to say. He was likely right. Still, Cody found himself glancing up at the remainder of the slope he had left, one hand braced against a piton and the other jammed into the cliffside. “We’ll never hear the end of it if half our Command died in a freak rain accident, Commander.”

Ah. The good Lieutenant was feeling helpful again. Cody tested his weight against the piton, then levered his leg up to the next foothold. The rain had made the rock slippery and loosened the grit and pebbles in its various crevices. It was frigid—nearly to freezing temperatures—and Cody’d had to turn his HUD to night vision an hour back. He was soaked to the bone and his toes felt as if they would never be dry again.

All in all, it was a hell of a good time.

“Not to worry,” Cody said evenly. “Sergeant Wake stopped crying a few meters back. We’re operating at full functionality.” His bucket wasn’t completely empty. He’d brought a pair of medics and a full squad of ARCs and ARFs, leaving Lieutenants Boil and Gregor as in situ battalion commanders. And Howl.

Maybe there was a reason to worry after all.

“You’re a fuckin’ terror, sir. When you get up there make sure you give the General a piece of your mind for letting his comm die out like that.”

“I’ll take it under advisement, Lieutenant.” Cody cut the line and grunted with exertion as he heaved himself up the last two meters, relying on the strength of his shoulders and core and digging the fingers of his gauntlets into the cliffside.

The rocky slope leveled out into a slight plateau before climbing into the sky once more. The peak was obscured by the rain and dark and even darker clouds that hung low and heavy in the sky.

What Cody had missed from the bottom of the slope was that there was the jagged mouth of a cave just before the cliff went vertical again—and within the cave, the glow of red emergency light sticks.

Cody had to drop down to one knee and duck his head to get through the opening of the cave, and then it widened right out—his HUD picked out three heat signatures, then Cody was pulling it off so the glow of the light sticks didn’t futz with his night vision.

“Ah, Commander,” Kenobi said cheerfully. His hair was plastered to his skull and his robes were sodden against his torso. He was drenched. And he looked like a drowned tooka. “Excellent timing, as always.”

“General,” Cody said, voice flat. “Lieutenants.”

Kenobi made the particular grimace he did whenever he knew Cody was cross with him, then raised a hand to hide it by stroking his mustache. “In my defense, I only just realized my comm was out of charge. I suspect a bit of rain may have found its way into the casing…”

Behind Kenobi, Waxer—helmet still on, smart trooper—slowly raised his hand and pressed his palm to the front of his visor.

“And you lot?” Cody asked sharply.

Lieutenant Clayton grimaced and held up his helmet. It had a large crack running through the front and the visor was dull and lifeless.

“Thundercrack triggered a bit of a rockslide, sir,” Waxer explained. Clayton was a trooper of few words but he was a damn good officer. “And something in the atmo up here’s got my signal on the fritz.”

As General, Kenobi’s comm would have been the most long-range—and sturdy—of the three of them. Cody made a mental note to see if he could get comms antenna onto one of the General’s spaulders.

“Not much to be done about it now,” Kenobi said decisively. He clasped Cody’s shoulder. He could only feel the pressure of it through his spaulder and bodysuit but he half-fancied he might be able to feel the chill radiating off Kenobi’s white-tipped hands. “I’m glad you decided to come up after us, or we would’ve been quite stranded for the duration of the…”

Cody snagged Kenobi’s wrist and the General’s voice trailed off. He pulled a gauntlet off his with his teeth, then the other, and jammed them both over Kenobi’s hands. Now that he had his gloves off he could feel how cold Kenobi’s hands were—and he didn’t like it one bit.

“No fancy twirling that ‘saber of yours if your hands turn into ice blocks,” Cody bit out. There was a strange roughness in his voice: he blamed the cold for his sore throat and chest. “And I’m warmed up from the climb.”

Kenobi stared at him with his mouth just slightly agape. The shine of rain on his face made him look surreal, like either he or Cody had been caught sleepwalking—dreamlike and distant. “Quite,” he said in a strange and quiet voice.

“Commander!” Wake and co. crowded into the cave—the medics shoved to the front and immediately started headshaking at Clayton’s cracked helmet and the bruise he’d gotten from whatever had cracked his visor—and the chilly tint to Kenobi’s lips and fingernails. “Found ‘em,” the Sergeant said into his helmet comm. To Boil, it was likely.

Cody stepped back. He cleared his throat. He jammed his helmet back onto his head and ignored the way Kenobi was—slowly and thoughtfully—rubbing at his wrists and the backs of his hands. “Lines secure?”

“Ready and waiting,” Wake replied with a brief salute. “Rain’s starting to die down a bit, too.”

“It’ll pass by in a little less than an hour,” Kenobi said mildly. He was still rubbing at his hands—just absently brushing the tips of his fingers back and forth over the ridges of his knuckles hidden by Cody’s gauntlets. “You couldn’t have picked a better time, gentlemen. Shall we?”

Cody felt the welling of his frustration and ire trickle away and die down with each step out of the cave and through the rain. He jammed his bucket down over his head and watched condensation fog up the visor before the temp reg kicked in. There had been a part of him—the part that had gotten him through CC training on Kamino and a ponderous chunk of the war and watching his vode die in droves—that had been calmly and coolly calculating the odds of the General’s survival. In the night. In the frigid and hostile terrain. That part of him had known that the chances of Kenobi and Clayton and Waxer getting injured—crushed in a rock- or mudslide—ambushed by hostiles—were higher than anything so benign as a comm running out of charge or being carelessly left in the pocket of a different robe. It had been calculating what Cody would need to do, had his General fallen somehow: an itemized pre-mourning checklist.

And yet.

Kenobi was a dim silhouette in the dark and rain. He kept his shoulders square and his head up as he slid back into his role as General, heedless of the rain that fell into his face. His borrowed gauntlets weren’t quite the right fit: too short in the fingers and too broad in the palm. But his hands were sure as he clasped Wake’s arm just above the rerebrace and clapped Waxer on the shoulder.

Next time he’d chew his General out for not keeping an eye on his comms like he should. Even as he rappelled back down the cliffside, Cody could only find it in himself to be grateful that there could be a next time.

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

Taglist

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[ominouspuff]

;w; Untitled please, gutpuncher was too aptly named

This one is not in a specific AU; it’s just some scroobling around with scenes of a Victory!AU and what follows. (There is an extremely undignified dance eventually.) Imagine the end-scene of the Return of the Jedi where there are parties on every planet, but with the Clones present and shouldering a healthy share of the event management load just by taking initiative and partying the hardest they can.

UNTITLED - BOOT-SCOOTIN’ VICTORY - Smol Snippet:

One might have thought it would be an awkward position for a general to be suddenly on equal footing with his subordinates, ranks dispensed with and titles tossed like so many petals into the air. When the general in question is one Obi-Wan Kenobi, it is no such thing.

Beneath the vast dome of the senate’s rotunda, surrounded on all sides by bodies and noise, Obi-Wan watches the crowd of men before him instead of the senator still speaking to him, grinning so broadly he’s sure his cheeks will split. 

Every threat is gone. The case is won. They are free men.

Obi-Wan can see familiar faces amid the sea of mirrored features. He is possessed with the urge to grab each set of hands, seize faces and shoulders and laugh into messy, sweaty hair that smells of life and living. The impulse is not his own — his own feelings well low and deep in his gut, incandescently overjoyed, but not so bubbling. His fingertips twitch with it. Like a swelling wave he rides the immaterial singing force in the air, maintaining his position within it, hands clasped at his back. 

Waxer is dancing, Obi-Wan thinks; although he makes a show of redefining the word. Boil is laughing from his knees, eyes screwed shut and face upturned, something wet in the sound. 

(More happy-vibing sightseeing from Obi for a bit here, runs into a few more familiar faces, still doesn’t involve himself directly)

Obi-Wan searches the crowd again, laughing now — and catches a glimpse of Rex.

Rex is trembling with hands upraised and fingers loose, eyes glazed wide with shock, caught up in what looks to be a painfully tight embrace with Obi-wan’s very own Marshall-Commander-no-more. Cody’s close-shorn head buries into the other’s neck-guard, his gloved fingers squealing where they grip at plastoid, armored shoulders rigid and still. They are still as statues compared to the heaving throng of clones around them.

Obi-Wan excuses himself from the throng of watching senators poorly, his voice reduced to a thread, his words tumbling gracelessly, conflicting needs to laugh or burst into messy tears tearing painfully at the corners of his mouth. 

Sluggishly he moves, and when he finally quits the halls it is with backwards steps into helpful shadows, because — Force have mercy on a giddy fool, but joy renders Obi-Wan an indecisive man who cannot pick which glimpse must be his last.

END SNIPPET

[ghostofskywalker]

Filed Under: Work Orders

Words: 1,099

Summary: You're the best mechanic the GAR has, but sometimes that means that you're flooded with requests for repairs that are clearly not from combat, or at least not entirely from combat.

or alternatively: a collection of messages on your answering machine, that go a long way as evidence to support the argument that you deserved a raise.

Note: another work to add to filed under: the series! apparently i can only write a fic like this once every six months or so lol

ao3 link || clone troopers masterlist

A loud clang echoed through the room as you dropped your bag of tools on the floor, eyes bleary from waking up far too early. Long hours at unusual times were a given when you worked for the GAR, but that didn’t mean you ever really got used to it, even after the three days off you had just enjoyed. At least the work bays were quiet at this time of day, and you usually didn’t have to do much interacting with others until it was time for people to pick up their finished equipment. Droids would collect and deliver the ships and other apparatuses that needed fixing, and work orders were usually received through your datapad.

Sitting down at the slightly scratched chair at your desk, you saw the light on your communicator blinking, indicating that you had a few messages to listen to. Your office communicator was on a pathway that could be reached through simply contacting the main number for the GAR and pressing the correct buttons, but it wasn’t as common to see work orders being requested here rather than through your datapad. After the caf machine began to work its magic and you had a steaming mug of caffeine in front of you, it was time to see what was on your schedule for today.

you have *:･✧ eight ✧ ･:* new messages

“Hey, this is General Anakin Skywalker calling for the best mechanic in the galaxy!”

You paused the message and sighed, knowing that meant he needed something from you. And based on his overly chipper tone, the repairs would be intensive.

“I got the message from your datapad that you’re off for a few days, but when you get back I need a favor. It’s just a few dents and a broken blaster cannon, don’t worry too much, but we’ll be on Coruscant for a few rotations and I just wanted to see what you could do. Rex has sent an official work order to your datapad, just send a message to the Jedi Temple when it’s ready.”

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

“What exactly am I supposed to say again?”

“Well, starting with your name would probably be a good idea.”

“Yeah that’s good.”

“And explaining that this needs to be done secretly, because Cody would kill us if he found out.”

“Definitely. Hi, my name is Boil and-”

“Wait, you were already on the call?”

“You watched me dial!”

Click.

After that played, you checked your datapad to see a communication that seemed to match the situation, and you just laughed at the plea to maintain complete secrecy.

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

The next message started with a shout from the background.

“It’s kriffing COLD in here!”

“Be quiet Crosshair! I’m leaving a message for the repair department now.”

“It’s still going to be three rotations before we even get to Coruscant. We’ll be blocks of ice by then!”

Another voice called out from the background.

“Go look for some blankets and let Tech leave the communication message in peace!”

“Fine.” 

“As you can probably tell, we’re calling because there’s an issue with our ship’s heating system. It’s an Omicron-class attack shuttle, and I believe that there must be some kind of slight leak preventing the heat from kicking in. More details will be sent with the droid when we drop off the ship.”

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

“Hello, this is Sergeant Hound calling from the Coruscant Guard, I wanted to let you know that we’ll be dropping off one of the battalion’s speeder bikes within the next day or two. It’ll look really bad, so if you have to scrap it completely that should be fine, just don’t tell Fox. I crashed it when I saw a cute massif on the street and completely flew into a wall, but if anyone else asks, there was a accident on the lower levels and it was too dark to see anything when I was chasing down a death stick dealer.”

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

“Now who are you calling?”

“Shhh, Fives, I’m on the phone with the maintenance number. If they can fix the general’s ships when he crashes them, this can’t be that big of a deal.”

“How are you going to explain the completely fried control board? Kix told us already that the GAR’s funneling all their money into new clones and can’t afford to replace landspeeders.”

“I’ll tell the truth, that it’s been acting strangely.”

“Yeah, after you spilled spotmelon juice all over it!”

“You were the one that knocked over the canteen!”

“Maybe we can blame it on the general, he’s already bringing his fighter down there after that last battle.”

“Yeah, maybe if we crash it into something first.”

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

“Why did you call the GAR’s main line? I don’t think the people in payroll and budgeting will be able to help until we get the damage under control.”

“This is the maintenance department. Jesse says there’s someone there that fixes things all the time for them, like that time when Hardcase built a bomb in the Resolute’s refresher.”

“Sinker, that’s what you did!”

“No!”

“Maybe it’s not in the refresher, but-”

“I built a bomb out of the caf machine, it’s a completely different situation. And mine was accidental, I don’t think you can say the same thing about the 501st!”

Your mind wandered from the message as it was still being played from your machine, mentally making a note to get out all the safety equipment you thought you might need. If this is anything like the situation that was just referenced, you were going to need some high quality supplies.

*:･✧ ✧ ･:*

“Hi, my name is General Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know that General Skywalker is going to be dropping off a starship for you to take a look at within the next few rotations, and I wanted to ask if you had a moment to check over my ship too? I don’t know what Anakin has told you, but I’d be willing to bet that he undersold how bad it was. Look, don’t tell him that I told you, but I wouldn’t be surprised when it comes in totaled. I’m surprised he was even able to land that smoking heap of durasteel. That aside, if you have time to look at mine just let me know, there’s nothing really specific I’m looking to fix but I would prefer to know if something was wrong before the next high stress situation. Thank you!”

you have *:･✧ zero ✧ ･:* new messages

You sighed, taking a huge sip from the caf in your hands and getting up from your desk. It looks like you had a lot of work to do. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

divider credit to djarrex - reblogged here

[elismor]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: CT-8893 | Clone Trooper Flood, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Triple Drabble, Sensory prompts, grossed out, Sticky, Icky, yuck - Freeform, seriously if you have a problem with weird textures scroll on by, no beta we die like men Summary:

This all seemed like a much better idea from the comfort of hyperspace.

For @cacodaemonia, who asked for #39 from this list of sensory prompts. 

Asks are still open on this if you want to hit me up.

[indira-korr]

Week 3 of @waxerboilmonth

Prompts: Waxer lives + Force-sensitive Clones

(Boil will be fine too, it's "just" a shot to the shoulder and the other just grazed his armor.)

Mini-fic and art can also be found here on ao3.

[star-wars-writing]

A Journey Beyond Duty

A/N: hey guys, this is the tenth @codywanbingo story with the prompt: Bandaging wounds, hope you like it.

The night on the remote planet of Rylath was a cloak of obscurity, enveloping Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody as they navigated the rugged terrain towards the enemy base. Their mission: a covert operation to gather crucial intelligence, potentially turning the tide in a crucial sector of the galaxy.

Silhouetted against the moons' pale light, the two figures moved with a stealth and precision born of countless missions together. Obi-Wan, his robes blending into the darkness, kept his senses attuned to the Force, while Cody, in his distinctive orange-marked armor, scanned their surroundings with a soldier's keen eye.

"This feels too quiet," Cody murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as they approached the base's perimeter. The structure loomed ahead, a dark monolith against the starlit sky.

Obi-Wan nodded slightly. "I sense it too. Stay alert. The Force is... uneasy."

Their conversation continued in hushed tones, the bond of mutual respect and understanding evident in their exchange. "Do you think we'll find what we're looking for?" Cody asked, his gaze fixed on the compound's entry point they were steadily approaching.

"The intel was reliable," Obi-Wan replied, his hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber. "But the truth is often buried deeper than spies can see."

Cody chuckled softly. "Always with the wisdom, General. Makes me glad I don't have to do the thinking."

Obi-Wan's response was a wry smile. "And I'm glad I don't have to do the shooting, Commander."

As they reached the outer walls, Obi-Wan's hand gestured for a pause. "We'll split up. I'll disable the power generator; you infiltrate the main control room. We meet at the extraction point in one hour."

Cody nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the plan. "And if things go south?"

"Then we adapt," Obi-Wan replied, the Jedi's calm assurance a stark contrast to the uncertainty of the mission.

They parted ways, each slipping into the shadows like specters of the night. Cody moved with the disciplined grace of a seasoned soldier, his every step measured and silent. He navigated through the base's exterior, using his intimate knowledge of military layouts to avoid patrols and surveillance.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, guided by the Force, traversed a different path. He moved with an ethereal presence, his connection to the living energy field guiding him through the darkest corners and tightest spaces. His objective lay at the heart of the compound, a nexus of power that, if disabled, would cripple the enemy's defenses.

As they delved deeper into enemy territory, the bond between the Jedi Master and the Clone Commander, though unspoken, was a thread of strength and trust. They were two parts of a whole, each playing their role in a dance as old as the Clone Wars themselves.

"Remember, General," Cody's voice crackled over the comlink, a hint of jest in his tone, "no unnecessary heroics."

Obi-Wan's chuckle was a soft sound in the quiet of the night. "You know me, Cody. I always follow the plan."

"But sometimes the plan follows you," Cody retorted, a smile evident in his voice.

The banter, light and familiar, was a brief respite from the gravity of their mission. It was a reminder of the countless days and nights they had spent fighting side by side, a testament to the bond forged in the fires of war and solidified in moments of quiet understanding.

As they closed in on their respective targets, the stillness of the night was a stark contrast to the storm that lay ahead. For Obi-Wan and Cody, the mission was more than a duty; it was a testament to their unyielding commitment to a cause greater than themselves, a cause that had brought them together and molded their destinies in ways neither could have foreseen.

In the shadows of the enemy base, with the fate of galaxies hanging in the balance, the Jedi Master and the Clone Commander moved forward, each step a silent vow to see the mission through, together.

The corridors of the enemy base were a labyrinth of uncertainty, each turn a potential trap, every shadow a hiding place for danger. Obi-Wan Kenobi, moving with the silent grace of a Jedi, felt the Force pulsing around him, a warning of impending peril. Beside him, Commander Cody, his posture rigid with alertness, advanced with a soldier's precision. Their eyes spoke a shared language of vigilance, forged in the crucible of countless battles.

As they rounded a corner, the tranquility of their stealth mission shattered. Blaster bolts streaked through the air, a sudden storm of lethal intent. The ambush was swift, the enemy hidden in the recesses of the dark corridor. Obi-Wan's lightsaber came to life, a brilliant blue arc cutting through the darkness, deflecting the deadly barrage with deft movements. His mind, attuned to the Force, was calm amidst the chaos, a tranquil center in a maelstrom of violence.

Cody, with a warrior's instinct, returned fire, his blaster a steady drumbeat against the enemy's onslaught. His movements were fluid yet controlled, every shot a calculated decision. In his mind, there was no fear, only the focus of a soldier fulfilling his duty. Yet, beneath that veneer of discipline, a current of concern for his companion, his general, flowed strong and unyielding.

The enemy, unseen, was relentless. A sudden burst of blaster fire, more intense than the rest, erupted towards them. Obi-Wan, engaged with deflecting the continuous stream, did not see the bolt aimed directly at him. Cody, with a split-second decision borne of instinct and an unspoken bond, acted. He lunged towards Obi-Wan, a shield of flesh and armor, his body colliding with the Jedi's just as the bolt struck.

Pain exploded through Cody's body, a white-hot inferno that seared through his senses. He crumpled to the ground, his armor scorched, the smell of burnt metal filling the air. The world around him spun into a blur, the sounds of battle a distant echo in his ears.

Obi-Wan, now on the ground beside Cody, felt a surge of shock and fear, emotions he had long learned to control but now bubbled to the surface. His hands moved to Cody's wound, the Force flowing from his fingertips in an attempt to stem the tide of injury. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts - concern for Cody, the mission, the war. But above all, there was an overwhelming sense of gratitude mixed with a deep, aching sorrow for the sacrifice made.

"Cody!" Obi-Wan's voice was strained, a rare crack in the composed façade of the Jedi. "Hold on, Commander."

Cody's eyes met Obi-Wan's, a flicker of pain and resolve within their depths. "Had to... save you, General," he managed to gasp, his voice a rasping shadow of its usual firmness. In that gaze, Obi-Wan saw not just a soldier following orders, but a man acting on a bond deeper than any protocol could dictate.

Around them, the battle faded to a secondary concern, the urgency of the situation narrowing their world to this single moment of shared vulnerability. Obi-Wan's focus was entirely on Cody, his mind racing for solutions, his heart heavy with the weight of a friendship that had grown beyond the confines of commander and Jedi.

As allies arrived to secure the area, Obi-Wan remained steadfast by Cody's side, his determination to save him as unyielding as the Force itself. 

In the hushed aftermath of the skirmish, as the blaster fire ceased and the echoes died away, the urgency of the moment transformed into a somber stillness. The soldiers who arrived moved with efficiency, yet their eyes couldn't help but linger on the scene before them - a Jedi Master cradling his injured commander, a tableau of sacrifice and unspoken bonds.

In the dim light of the corridor, illuminated only by the fading glow of Obi-Wan's lightsaber, the reality of the situation settled like a heavy cloak. Cody's breathing was shallow, his face etched with pain, but his eyes held a steadfast determination, reflective of a spirit that refused to yield even in the face of dire injury.

"Stay with me, Cody," Obi-Wan urged, his voice a low murmur, blending with the distant sounds of the base now alert to the intrusion. His hands, still channeling the healing energy of the Force, were steady, but his eyes betrayed a turmoil of emotions - respect, concern, and an unspoken fear of loss.

Cody's response was a faint nod, his usual firm voice reduced to a whisper. "Wouldn't... leave you, General. Not... yet." The hint of his characteristic resolve, even in his weakened state, was a testament to the bond they shared, one forged not just in the heat of battle but in the countless moments of trust and mutual reliance.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody, reading the unspoken language of his commander's eyes - a language that spoke of battles fought together, of a camaraderie that had transcended the usual bounds of general and soldier. In those eyes, Obi-Wan saw not just the duty and loyalty that defined Cody but also a glimpse of the individuality that lay beneath the surface of the cloned soldier, a uniqueness that Obi-Wan had come to recognize and respect.

In the aftermath of the ambush, as Obi-Wan Kenobi deftly maneuvered through the enemy-infested corridors, he bore the weight of Commander Cody with a resolve that defied his calm demeanor. The Force guided him, a silent ally in the shadows, leading them to a secluded hideout – a forgotten chamber, a relic of peace in a war-torn world.

The hideout, a small, nondescript room, was bathed in the dim glow of a flickering light, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls. Gently, Obi-Wan laid Cody down, his movements a meticulous blend of Jedi precision and heartfelt concern. The commander’s armor, marred by the violence of the blast, was a stark testament to the sacrifice he had made.

As Obi-Wan carefully removed the damaged armor, his touch was reverent, each movement acknowledging the price of the loyalty Cody had shown. Beneath the armor, the wound was grievous, a jarring contrast to the commander’s unyielding spirit.

"You shouldn't have..." Obi-Wan began, his voice laced with a mix of gratitude and a deep-seated guilt.

Cody, his face etched with pain but eyes alight with an unwavering resolve, managed a weak smile. "Had to, General. You'd have done the same."

Their exchange was cut short by the arrival of two familiar figures – Waxer and Boil, Cody's trusted comrades. The two clones entered the hideout with a sense of urgency, their expressions a mix of concern and relief at finding their commander and general safe.

Waxer, his armor smeared with the remnants of battle, approached with a brisk efficiency. "We've secured the area, General," he reported, his voice steady yet betraying an underlying worry for his superior.

Boil, standing close to Cody, surveyed the injury with a soldier's pragmatism. "We need to get him back to the medbay," he stated, his gaze flickering to Obi-Wan for confirmation.

Obi-Wan, while continuing to tend to Cody's wounds, nodded in agreement. His hands, guided by the Force, moved with a healer's grace, but the presence of Waxer and Boil brought a new dynamic to the room. It was a reminder of the bond shared not just between general and commander, but among the men who served under them, a brotherhood forged in the crucible of war.

As Waxer and Boil assisted, their actions were respectful, their demeanor reflecting the depth of their respect for both Cody and Obi-Wan. They moved with a quiet efficiency, aiding Obi-Wan in stabilizing Cody's condition, their presence a silent support in the tense atmosphere.

The room, once a place of solitude, now resonated with the unspoken camaraderie of soldiers. The stark walls echoed with the low murmurs of concern, the shared glances of understanding. In this secluded space, the complexities of rank and duty gave way to the more profound ties of loyalty and shared humanity.

In the subdued light, as Obi-Wan worked to save Cody, the bond between them was palpable, a silent testament to a relationship that transcended the usual confines of command. Around them, Waxer and Boil stood vigilant, their presence a quiet reassurance of the unbreakable bond that united them, a bond that would endure through the trials of war and beyond.

In the dim seclusion of a forgotten chamber deep within the enemy base, Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt beside Commander Cody, whose form lay still amidst the chaos of war. The room, lit only by the flickering light of a small, battered lamp, cast long, wavering shadows across their faces, painting a picture of solemnity and urgency.

Obi-Wan's hands, guided by years of Jedi training and a deep-seated care, worked meticulously to bandage the wounds that marred Cody's body. Each wrap of the bandage was a testament to the bond they shared, a bond that had grown beyond the confines of duty and rank. The fabric was gently, yet firmly applied, a barrier against the harsh reality of war.

"Cody, stay with me," Obi-Wan urged, his voice a soft command tinged with concern. The Force flowed through him, a soothing presence that he channeled towards the injured commander, his fingers hovering over the wounds as he sought to mend what had been broken.

Cody, his face etched with pain, managed a weak smirk. "Didn't take you for a medic, General," he rasped, the attempt at humor a stark contrast to the gravity of his injuries.

Obi-Wan offered a small, wistful smile in return. "There are many roles one must play in war. This is one I wish I didn't have to." His eyes, usually a well of calm and wisdom, now flickered with a complex mix of emotions - fear, guilt, and a deep, unspoken affection.

As he continued the delicate task of bandaging, a silence settled between them, filled with words unspoken, emotions unexpressed. The air was thick with the weight of things left unsaid, a shared history that spanned the tumult of the Clone Wars.

"Remember that time on Tibrin?" Cody broke the silence, his voice a mere whisper. "When you talked us out of a full-scale assault. I never said it, but... I admired your courage that day."

Obi-Wan paused, his actions momentarily still. "It was your strategy that made it possible, Cody. You always had a way of seeing things clearly in battle."

A moment passed, laden with memories and unvoiced thoughts. "We've been through a lot, haven't we, General?" Cody's words were laced with a nostalgia that went beyond the camaraderie of soldiers.

"We have, Commander," Obi-Wan acknowledged, his voice low and reflective. "And through it all, your loyalty, your strength... it's been a constant I've come to rely on."

Cody's gaze met Obi-Wan's, a silent communication passing between them. In those eyes, Obi-Wan saw the unwavering spirit of the commander, but also the vulnerability of the man beneath the armor. "I've always trusted you, Obi-Wan. With my life... and more."

Obi-Wan's response was a soft sigh, a sound that carried the weight of their unspoken bond. "And I, you, Cody. In ways I never expected." The Force around them seemed to hum with a resonance that spoke of deep connections, of bonds forged not only in the heat of battle but in the quiet moments of trust and understanding.

As Obi-Wan resumed the force healing, his touch gentle yet firm, the room seemed to shrink around them, becoming a world unto itself. Here, in this hidden corner of the galaxy, the lines between general and commander, friend and love interest, blurred into a singular truth - a bond unbreakable, a loyalty unyielding, a love unspoken but deeply felt.

In the soft glow of the hideout, illuminated by the lamp's wavering light, the bond between them was palpable, a tangible force as real as the energy that Obi-Wan channeled through his hands. The Force seemed to wrap around them, a cocoon of energy that bridged the gap between healer and wounded, between a Jedi Master and his trusted Commander.

Cody's breathing steadied under Obi-Wan's ministrations, the pain in his eyes softening. "I never thought I'd be at the receiving end of Jedi healing," he said, his voice gaining strength. "Feels strange... not unpleasant, just strange."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, the sound echoing softly in the compact room. "I assure you, it's not a common occurrence. But then, our partnership has always been anything but common."

The air between them was charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the depth of their relationship. It was a bond that had evolved, shaped by the fires of battle, by shared laughter and silent understandings, by moments of desperation and acts of bravery.

Cody, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze, found a depth of emotion there that he had only glimpsed in fleeting moments before. "We've always been a good team, haven't we, General? In more ways than one."

"Yes, Cody, we have," Obi-Wan agreed, his voice laced with a warmth that went beyond mere camaraderie. "In all the chaos of this war, our friendship... it's been my anchor. You've been my anchor."

A silence fell between them, a comfortable hush that spoke volumes. In the confines of the hideout, away from the prying eyes of the galaxy, they allowed themselves a moment of vulnerability, a shared understanding of the emotions that lay beneath the surface of their bond.

As Obi-Wan continued his healing work, his focus never wavered from Cody, each touch a silent promise, a vow of protection and loyalty. The Force flowed between them, a bridge of energy and emotion, healing not just physical wounds, but touching the unspoken scars of battles past, of a war that demanded so much from them both.

The room, with its plain walls and simple light, became a sanctuary, a haven where general and commander, Jedi and clone, could simply be Obi-Wan and Cody, two souls intertwined by fate and choice, their bond a testament to the enduring power of trust, loyalty, and an unacknowledged love that had quietly defined them both.

**** 

As Waxer and Boil disappeared, their footsteps fading into the distance, the hideout's silence deepened, enveloping Obi-Wan and Cody in a bubble of stillness. Cody, propped against a cold, unadorned wall, watched Obi-Wan with an intensity that spoke of years of camaraderie and battles shared. The room, with its sparse furnishings and dim light, seemed to contract, becoming an intimate space for reflection and revelation.

Obi-Wan, sitting across from Cody, his posture relaxed yet alert, met his gaze. The air between them was charged with an unspoken understanding, a readiness to traverse territories of conversation they had seldom explored.

"The war has taken much from us, Cody," Obi-Wan began, his voice soft, introspective. "I find myself wondering... about the cost. The personal sacrifices."

Cody's response was thoughtful, his voice tinged with a weariness born of endless battles. "We've all lost something, General. Friends, time, parts of ourselves." He paused, his gaze distant. "Sometimes, I wonder who I'd be without this war."

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression somber. "The path of a Jedi is not easy, nor is the path of a soldier. We give up parts of ourselves for a cause we believe in. But lately, I've been questioning the cost of such sacrifices."

Cody, shifting slightly to ease his discomfort, regarded Obi-Wan with a newfound curiosity. "You're talking about the Jedi code, aren't you? The part about attachments."

"Yes," Obi-Wan admitted, a rare openness in his demeanor. "The code teaches us to let go of attachments, to maintain our focus on the greater good. But in doing so, I wonder if we lose sight of... something equally important."

The conversation hung in the air, a delicate balance between doctrine and emotion. Cody, his expression thoughtful, broke the silence. "We clones, we were made to fight, to follow orders. But along the way, we form bonds, attachments. It's what makes us more than just soldiers. Maybe... it's not so different for Jedi."

Obi-Wan's eyes held a depth of emotion, a turmoil of thoughts and feelings. "Perhaps you're right, Cody. In this war, I've formed bonds that I... that I cannot deny. Bonds that have given me strength, even as they challenge the principles I've lived by."

Cody's gaze was steady, a mirror to Obi-Wan's conflict. "And is that such a bad thing, General? To find strength in others?"

Obi-Wan's response was a soft sigh, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of galaxies. "No, it's not a bad thing. In fact, it might be what makes us truly strong. The ability to connect, to care... it's a powerful thing."

Their conversation drifted then, to shared memories, to battles fought and won, to moments of quiet amidst the storm of war. They spoke of fallen comrades, of victories tinged with sorrow, of the heavy burden of command. And through it all, there was an undercurrent of something deeper, a connection that had grown beyond the bounds of general and commander.

In the quiet of the hideout, as they delved into the complexities of duty and emotion, Obi-Wan and Cody discovered a new understanding of each

other, a shared vulnerability that transcended the roles they played in the grand theatre of war. Cody, his voice growing stronger with each word, spoke of moments that had defined him, of decisions made in the heat of battle that lingered in his thoughts.

"It's the choices we make, isn't it, General?" Cody mused, his eyes reflecting the dim light of the room. "Choices that define us, more than the battles we fight."

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze introspective. "Yes, it's our choices. And I've been wondering about the choices I've made, in light of the Jedi teachings. The code is clear, but life... life is complex. It's not always black and white."

Cody, sensing the depth of Obi-Wan's internal struggle, leaned forward slightly. "You've always made the right choices, General. Even when they weren't easy. That's what sets you apart."

Obi-Wan's smile was tinged with sadness. "I've tried to do what's right, but I can't help but question... What if the right choice isn't always in line with the code? What if the right choice is about the people we care for, the attachments we form?"

The air around them seemed to thicken with unspoken truths, with emotions held back for too long. Obi-Wan, always the picture of Jedi serenity, now appeared human, vulnerable. His eyes, usually so clear and focused, now swam with doubts and unspoken yearnings.

Cody watched him, a mix of respect and concern etched on his features. "Maybe it's about finding a balance, General. Maybe it's about understanding that our attachments, our emotions... they're a part of who we are. They don't weaken us; they make us whole."

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody, seeing not just the soldier, but the man he had come to know, to rely on, to... care for, in ways the Jedi code had never prepared him for. "You may be right, Cody. Perhaps it's about finding that balance. And maybe, it's about accepting that some attachments... they're worth the risk."

Their conversation slowed, the words dwindling as their thoughts turned inward, each man reflecting on the journey that had brought them to this moment. The room, once a mere hideout, had become a sanctuary where they could lay bare their souls, where rank and duty gave way to honesty and understanding.

In the shared silence, a bond was solidified, a bond born of war but deepened by mutual respect and an unspoken affection. It was a bond that defied the rules of the Jedi, that transcended the expectations of a soldier. It was a bond that spoke of a shared humanity, of a connection that was as profound as it was forbidden.

In the dim light of the hideout, Obi-Wan and Cody found a moment of peace, a respite from the war that raged outside. It was a moment of clarity, a realization that amidst the chaos of the galaxy, they had found in each other an anchor, a source of strength and, perhaps, a glimpse of what it meant to be truly human.

**** 

As the hours passed in the seclusion of their makeshift sanctuary, a subtle change began to manifest in Cody's condition. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with an unspoken tension as Obi-Wan, with a healer's intuition, noticed the subtle signs of worsening. Cody's skin, usually the picture of clone-bred resilience, had taken on a pallor, and his breathing, once steady in its rhythm, now came in shallow, labored gasps.

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in concern, his hands hovering above the bandaged wound, the Force flowing through him in a focused stream. "Cody, stay with me," he urged, his voice a blend of command and concern. The infection was spreading, a silent enemy as dangerous as any they had faced on the battlefield.

Cody, his eyes clouded with pain, met Obi-Wan's gaze. "I'm not... going anywhere, General," he rasped, a weak attempt at his usual humor. But the gravity of the situation lay unmasked in his eyes, a flicker of fear that he had always been trained to suppress.

Obi-Wan, sensing the urgency of the moment, deepened his connection to the Force. He closed his eyes, reaching out to the living energy around them, calling upon it with a sense of desperation he seldom allowed himself to feel. The air in the room seemed to thrum with power, the Force responding to his call, a tide of healing energy at his command.

Cody watched, a mix of awe and pain etching his features. The sight of Obi-Wan, a Jedi Master in his element, was both inspiring and humbling. "You're... something else, Obi-Wan," he murmured, the words a whisper of admiration.

Obi-Wan's focus was unwavering, but at Cody's words, a soft smile touched his lips. "We're in this together, Cody. I won't let you face this alone." His words were more than a reassurance; they were a vow, a promise born of the bond they shared.

The energy in the room peaked, a crescendo of unseen power, and Cody felt a warmth spreading through him, a counter to the chill of the infection. It was as if Obi-Wan's will alone was battling the invasion in his body, fighting for his life with a determination that mirrored the battles they had fought side by side.

As the Force flowed, a connection deepened between them, a bridge of energy and emotion that transcended the physical realm. In that moment, their mutual feelings, long unacknowledged, surfaced with a clarity that was both startling and inevitable.

"Cody," Obi-Wan said, his voice a soft murmur amidst the hum of the Force, "you've always been more than just a commander to me. You've been a friend, a confidant... someone I..."

Cody, feeling the strength returning to his body, reached out, his hand finding Obi-Wan's. "I know, Obi-Wan. I've felt it too. There's something between us... more than duty, more than war."

Their eyes locked, and in that gaze, a multitude of unspoken words passed between them. It was a recognition of the depth of their bond, a realization of the feelings that had grown amidst the chaos of their lives. In the silence, a truth was acknowledged, a truth as profound as it was forbidden.

In the small, dimly lit hideout, as the Force ebbed around them, Obi-Wan and Cody found themselves at a crossroads. Their connection, strengthened in the face of adversity, had blossomed into something neither could deny. It was a bond forged in the heart of war, yet transcending it, a testament to the enduring power of human connection, of love in the midst of chaos. In that moment, as Cody's condition stabilized under Obi-Wan's unwavering care, they faced a new reality, one where their relationship had evolved into something more profound, something irrevocably changed.

*** 

As the profound moment of shared acknowledgment between Obi-Wan and Cody hung in the air, a sudden shift occurred. Cody's eyes, which had held a spark of something beyond pain and camaraderie, began to glaze over, his grip on Obi-Wan's hand weakening. The strength that had momentarily returned to his face seemed to ebb away, leaving behind a pallor of exhaustion and pain.

"Cody!" Obi-Wan's voice was tinged with alarm. The Jedi Master leaned in closer, his senses heightened as he reached out with the Force, trying to tether Cody to consciousness. "Stay with me, Commander. Stay with me."

But Cody's response was a mere murmur, his words slurring as he slipped into unconsciousness. Obi-Wan's heart raced, a surge of fear washing over him. He had faced countless dangers, but the sight of Cody, slipping away before his eyes, struck a chord of panic within him.

Outside their makeshift sanctuary, Waxer and Boil patrolled the perimeter with a vigilance born of necessity. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the unspoken fear for their commander's life. They communicated in short, clipped sentences, their focus unwavering.

"Anything?" Boil's voice was a low growl, his eyes scanning the darkened corridors.

"Nothing yet," Waxer replied, his blaster held ready. "But they'll come. They have to."

Back inside the room, Obi-Wan was a picture of focused desperation. His hands hovered over Cody, the Force flowing through him in waves, but the effort seemed to drain more of his own strength than it aided Cody. "Don't do this, Cody," he whispered, his voice a mix of command and plea. "You've fought too hard to let go now."

The stillness of the hideout was suddenly shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps - heavy, hurried, the rhythm of soldiers on a mission. Obi-Wan's head snapped up, alert and ready for whatever came through the door.

It burst open, revealing the familiar forms of the 212th Battalion. Leading them was Boil, his expression a mix of relief and urgency. "General Kenobi, we've found you. Medics are on the way."

Following closely was a trooper Obi-Wan recognized immediately - Bones, one of Cody's most trusted men. His demeanor was one of controlled panic as he pushed his way through to his commander's side. "Commander Cody!" he called out, dropping to his knees beside him.

Obi-Wan moved aside, giving Bones space but never taking his eyes off Cody. "He's in and out of consciousness. I've done what I can, but he needs proper medical attention."

Bones's hands were already on Cody, checking his vitals, his movements efficient yet filled with a palpable concern. "Hang in there, sir. We're going to get you out of here."

The room was now a flurry of activity, the 212th Battalion moving with precision and urgency. Medics rushed in, their kits open and ready, as they began administering aid to Cody. Obi-Wan stood back, his gaze never leaving Cody's still form, his heart heavy with worry and unspoken fears.

Waxer stepped up beside Obi-Wan, his voice low. "We'll get him out, General. He's tough, he'll pull through."

Obi-Wan nodded, his expression a mask of controlled emotion. "Yes, he will. He must." His words were more than a statement; they were a vow, a silent promise to the man who had become more than a comrade, more than a friend.

As the medics worked, Obi-Wan's thoughts were a tumult of emotions - fear, hope, and a realization of the depth of his feelings for Cody. The connection they shared had been acknowledged, but the future remained uncertain, hinged on the fragile thread of Cody's life.

In the dim light of the hideout, amidst the chaos and concern, a bond had been solidified, a bond that had transcended the boundaries of duty and rank. Now,

as Cody lay unconscious, that bond faced its greatest test. Obi-Wan stood, a silent sentinel, his presence a quiet strength amidst the bustle of activity.

Boil, watching the medics work, turned to Obi-Wan. "He's a fighter, General. Always has been."

Obi-Wan's response was a nod, his eyes never leaving Cody. "He's more than that. He's... essential." The word carried a weight, a depth of meaning that went beyond the battlefield, beyond the war.

The medics worked with a swift efficiency, their hands moving in a blur of activity. Intravenous lines were set, vital signs monitored, and every possible measure taken to stabilize Cody. The air was thick with tension, each second stretching into an eternity.

Bones, still kneeling beside Cody, looked up at Obi-Wan, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. "He's in good hands, General. We'll get him back to the medbay as soon as we can."

As the stretcher was prepared, Obi-Wan stepped forward, his hand resting briefly on Cody's. It was a gesture of reassurance, a silent message of hope. Cody, though unconscious, seemed to respond, a faint movement of his head, a subtle sign that he was still fighting.

Waxer approached Obi-Wan, his expression solemn. "We should move, General. We've secured a path, but we need to leave now."

Obi-Wan nodded, tearing his gaze away from Cody with visible effort. As the stretcher was lifted, he moved alongside it, his role as a Jedi Master momentarily taking a back seat to his role as Cody's unwavering protector.

The journey back to the medbay was a blur, the corridors and passages of the base melding into one. Obi-Wan's thoughts were a whirlwind, his mind replaying the moments in the hideout, the words spoken and unspoken, the depth of emotion that had been revealed.

As they emerged into the brighter lights of the medbay, Obi-Wan felt a shift in the Force, a subtle stirring that spoke of hope. He stood by Cody's side, watching as the medics transferred him to a proper medical bed, their movements now even more urgent.

Bones, standing beside Obi-Wan, placed a hand on his shoulder. "He'll make it, General. He's got the best care, and he's got something else - something not all of us have."

Obi-Wan turned to him, a question in his eyes.

"He's got something worth fighting for. Something... or someone." Bones's gaze was knowing, a recognition of the bond that existed between Obi-Wan and Cody, a bond that had become the heart of their will to survive.

As the steady hum of medical machinery filled the space, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat by Cody's bedside, his posture one of silent vigilance. The medbay, a stark contrast to the chaos of the battlefield, was a sanctuary of sorts, its sterile calm a balm to the tumultuous emotions that swirled within him.

Cody lay still, his breathing assisted by the medical apparatus, the rise and fall of his chest a visual rhythm that Obi-Wan clung to. In the quiet of the medbay, Obi-Wan took Cody's hand, holding it gently but firmly, a physical connection that seemed to bridge the gap between consciousness and unconsciousness.

As he sat there, Obi-Wan's mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions. The Force flowed around him, a comforting presence, yet his focus remained intently on the man before him. Cody, his stalwart commander, his unwavering comrade, and now, something more. The realization of their bond, brought to light in the crucible of their ordeal, hung heavily in the air, a truth both undeniable and unexplored.

Around them, the members of the 212th Battalion moved with quiet efficiency, their respect for both their general and commander evident in their hushed tones and solemn expressions. It was clear to Obi-Wan that the men were more aware of the depth of the bond between him and Cody than he had initially realized. Their discreet glances, the unspoken understanding in their nods, all pointed to a recognition of something beyond mere camaraderie.

Obi-Wan, feeling the weight of their silent acknowledgment, knew that there was no use in hiding what had developed between him and Cody. The 212th, his and Cody's men, had seen them through countless battles, had been part of their journey every step of the way. Trusting them to keep this unspoken secret seemed a natural extension of the bond they all shared.

"General Kenobi," a soft voice spoke, breaking the silence. Waxer stood a respectful distance away, his helmet under his arm. "The men... we all know how much Commander Cody means to you. To us. And we respect that, more than you might realize."

Obi-Wan looked up, meeting Waxer's gaze. The understanding and loyalty in the soldier's eyes were clear. "Thank you, Waxer. Your discretion... it means a great deal."

Waxer nodded, a gesture of both respect and reassurance. "We're a family, sir. And in families, we look out for each other. Always."

As Waxer left, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Cody. The Force seemed to thrum around them, a silent witness to the bond they shared. In the stillness, Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment of reflection. The path ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges both personal and professional. But in that uncertainty, there was also a sense of hope, a belief that whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Sitting there, holding Cody's hand, Obi-Wan felt a profound sense of connection, not just to the man beside him, but to the men and women he led. The 212th Battalion was more than just a military unit; they were a family, bound by loyalty, respect, and a shared journey through the fires of war. In them, Obi-Wan saw the reflection of the bond he shared with Cody - a bond of trust, understanding, and an unspoken love that transcended the confines of their roles.

As the hours passed, Obi-Wan remained by Cody's side, a silent guardian waiting for the moment his friend would awaken. In the quiet of the medbay, surrounded by the soft sounds of life-saving machines and the occasional murmur of the 212th, Obi-Wan Kenobi sat, a Jedi Master, a general, but

above all, a man deeply connected to another soul. The rhythm of the machinery, the soft beeps and whirs, became a backdrop to his contemplation, his thoughts drifting between the past and an uncertain future.

Every so often, a medic would come to check on Cody, their movements professional yet tinged with an unspoken empathy. They understood the gravity of what lay before them, the life of a commander who was more than just a leader to his men. Obi-Wan would watch them, gratitude mingling with his concern, a silent prayer in his heart with each assessment they made.

As the night deepened, the quiet conversations of the 212th outside the medbay became a testament to their unity and strength. They spoke in subdued tones, not just about strategies and missions, but about their commander, about Obi-Wan, about the bond that everyone seemed to have sensed long before it was acknowledged. Their words were careful, respectful, a reflection of their loyalty not just to their duty, but to the individuals who led them.

In these moments, Obi-Wan realized the depth of the trust he had placed in his men, and how profoundly they had returned it. They were his soldiers, yes, but also his protectors in a way, guardians of a secret that had the power to alter the course of their lives.

Turning his attention back to Cody, Obi-Wan's thoughts were introspective. The man lying unconscious before him, connected to machines that were his lifeline, had become an integral part of his life. The realization of their mutual feelings, brought to the surface under dire circumstances, now seemed like a truth that had always existed, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

Cody, even in unconsciousness, seemed to be fighting, his spirit a tangible presence in the room. Obi-Wan could feel it, a determination that resonated with his own. He squeezed Cody's hand slightly, a silent message of support, a promise that he was not alone in this fight.

As the night turned into the early hours of the morning, Obi-Wan remained a constant presence by Cody's side, his vigil uninterrupted. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, filled with questions and choices. But in that medbay, with the quiet support of his men surrounding them, Obi-Wan felt a sense of resolve solidify within him.

He knew that when Cody awoke, they would face these challenges together, with the same courage and determination that had defined their battles. For now, Obi-Wan waited, a guardian of the quiet, steady heartbeat that promised a future filled with possibilities, a future where their bond could grow and evolve, unshackled by the constraints of convention and duty. In the soft glow of the medbay, amidst the sounds of life-preserving technology, Obi-Wan Kenobi held Cody's hand, a symbol of a bond unbroken, a love unspoken, yet stronger than anything the galaxy could throw at them.

**** 

The first artificial light of dawn began to seep through the small windows of the medbay, casting a gentle glow over the room. Obi-Wan, still seated beside Cody's bed, had remained vigilant throughout the night, his eyes often fixed on the commander's face, searching for any sign of consciousness.

It was in these early hours, as the medbay was bathed in the soft light of dawn, that Cody's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, his gaze unfocused as he tried to piece together his surroundings. Then, his eyes settled on Obi-Wan, a flicker of recognition lighting them up.

"Obi-Wan?" Cody's voice was weak, but there was an unmistakable strength behind it, a testament to his resilience.

Obi-Wan leaned in, a wave of relief washing over him. "Yes, Cody, I'm here. You're safe now."

Cody took a moment to gather his thoughts, his gaze wandering around the room before settling back on Obi-Wan. "I remember... the ambush. You were there. You saved me."

Obi-Wan's hand tightened around Cody's. "We saved each other. It's what we do." His voice was soft but carried an undercurrent of emotion that went beyond the confines of their roles as general and commander.

A silence fell between them, filled with unspoken words and emotions. Cody broke the silence, his voice a mere whisper. "Obi-Wan, in the hideout... we talked. About us."

Obi-Wan nodded, his gaze never leaving Cody's. "Yes, we did. And it's time we faced what that conversation truly meant."

Cody's eyes searched Obi-Wan's, finding not just the Jedi Master, but the man behind the title. "Life's short in this war," he said, a newfound clarity in his voice. "Whatever happiness we can find... we should cherish it. Not deny it because of rules and conventions."

Obi-Wan's expression softened, the Jedi serenity giving way to a more human vulnerability. "I agree. For too long, I've let the Jedi Code dictate my life, but being here with you, facing the possibility of losing you... it's made me realize that there's more to life than rules and duty."

The medbay, with its soft morning light and the quiet hum of machinery, became a cocoon for their conversation, a private space where they could explore the depth of their bond.

"We don't know what the future holds, Cody," Obi-Wan continued, his voice tinged with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "But I do know that I no longer want to face it without acknowledging what's between us."

Cody, his strength returning, squeezed Obi-Wan's hand. "Neither do I, Obi-Wan. We've been through too much to ignore this... whatever this is between us."

Their conversation was a dance of words and emotions, a delicate exploration of feelings long suppressed and possibilities newly awakened. It was a conversation punctuated by pauses, by glances that spoke volumes, by touches that conveyed more than words ever could.

As the medbay came to life with the morning shift, the world outside their conversation began to intrude, but the moment they had shared, the acknowledgment of their bond, remained a beacon of light in their lives.

In the days that followed, as Cody's recovery progressed, their relationship evolved, no longer just commander and general, but something more profound, more personal. They faced the challenges of war together, but now with a newfound strength drawn from the acknowledgment of their bond, a bond that had become their anchor in the tumultuous sea of the galaxy at war.

In the midst of chaos, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody had found a sliver of happiness, a connection that defied convention, a love that transcended the boundaries of their roles. It was a love born from war but destined to endure beyond it, a testament to the enduring power of the human heart in the face of adversity.

As they navigated their new reality, there was an unspoken agreement between them. They would cherish each moment, each shared glance, each quiet conversation. The war raged on around them, but within the walls of the medbay, and later, in the brief moments they stole away from their duties, they found solace in each other's presence.

In the eyes of the 212th Battalion, there was a newfound respect and understanding. The men seemed to intuitively grasp the change in their leaders, treating it with a discreet reverence. It was as if they recognized the importance of what Obi-Wan and Cody had found in each other, a rare glimpse of joy in a world overshadowed by war.

Cody's recovery was marked not just by the healing of his physical wounds, but by the strengthening of the bond he shared with Obi-Wan. They were careful, aware of the need for discretion, but the trust they had in their men, and the men's trust in them, formed a protective circle around their relationship.

The conversations they shared in the quiet of the night were filled with plans for the future, with the acknowledgement of the uncertainties that lay ahead, but also with the certainty of their feelings for each other. They spoke of battles fought and challenges overcome, and of the hope that, when the war was finally over, they might explore a life together beyond the confines of their duties.

In those conversations, Obi-Wan found a peace he had never known, a sense of completion that he had never thought possible. Cody, in turn, found a sense of belonging, a connection that went beyond any programming or training. Together, they faced each day with a renewed sense of purpose, bolstered by the knowledge that they were no longer alone.

The war continued, as wars do, but in the midst of it all, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Cody had discovered a rare and precious thing – a love that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places, a light that shone brightly in the darkness, a testament to the enduring resilience of the human spirit.

Any feedback or thoughts are greatly appreciated. May the Force be with you!

[trudemaethien]

Ship: Fives/Boil

Words: Convict, scholar, dog

have fun making it weird <3

‘kay so the spirit of the prompts is there, promise. if you squint as hard as Dogma. also idk about making it weird but i hope i hit hot? 😘

Everyone knows what the red triangles mean, but it’s not so easy to quantify. During off-hours, commanders shut down their good-idea-fairies, break up any groups made up entirely of them, monitor them for contraband—but it’s not that they are troublemakers or criminals, not exactly.

They also tend to be more highly decorated, have better chances of making it through the chaos of a battle, be more willing to take chances, and more open to taking a shiny under their pauldron.

But it’s not done to inquire into what exactly happened or ask why a trooper’s paint includes one. It might not even be an event. Hardcase, who bore none himself, had taken one look at shiny CT-6922 and gotten out a red brush for him, way before he’d gotten boots on the ground. No one understands quite why, yet, but Hardcase’s faith is unflinching.

It can even be a bit of an unspoken connection between brothers who’ve never seen each other before, which is what is happening now.

The goldie tips his red-arrow and dark-ship-diagram festooned helmet in interest toward Fives across the landing deck, and Fives tilts his own in a return of the sentiment. They’ll almost certainly run into each other again tonight, despite the thronging mass of two battalions worth of troopers on deck.

Fives grins and heads to the barracks to in-process. He’s getting out of this armor and into civvies. Not to make it too hard for the other guy to find him, but—yeah, a little bit.

If the other guy is a red arrow, he’ll enjoy the hunt.

<><>

A heavy hand claps down on his shoulder and a brother with what has to be a dare-shave leans down into his space. Fives does his best not to inhale the shandy he’d been swallowing as he turns to greet the newcomer.

…who doesn’t lean back very far. Their faces are much less than polite speaking distance apart.

“Hel-lo,” Fives says, because flirting is his go-to.

“You’re a hard man to find,” the brother says with wry good humor. “I’m Boil.”

“Fives.”

“How— are you guys old buddies, or only just now meeting?” Dogma asks, squinting between the two of them.

“Yes,” says Fives at the same time that Boil says “No.”

They both grin delightedly, darting a shot-quick glance aside at one another.

Dogma thins his lips, but drowns his objections in the last slug of his drink. “I’m going to find Tup,” he announces, sliding out of his seat, and to Fives, “Do not light anything on fire while I’m not with you.”

Good man. He’s growing into it, little by little.

“Fire, huh?” Boil asks.

“Nah, was thinking something a bit hotter than that,” Fives says.

Boil gets his drift. “Oh?” he says leadingly, and leans back in his seat, hooking his elbows over the top of the chair back.

Fives turns and slips his fingers under the raised hem of Boil’s civvie shirt, tracing boldly up from the crest of his hipbone to just beneath his ribs and digging in a little.

Boil’s near hand advances up his arm past his shoulder until his fingers are in Fives hair and his palm lays sure and heated on his nape.

“Your beard is juuust going to touch mine,” Boil points out. His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Complaining?” Fives teases.

“Hell no.”

🔻🔒 https://archiveofourown.org/works/51600877

[littlemissmanga]

The Once and Future Big Brother

Characters: CT-7212 "Boil", Rebels!Numa

W/C: 280

Warnings: Just a little whump, but not a lot. Open ending (it's not a cliffhanger but it allows you to fill in what happens next yourself).

A/N: I wrote this a while ago as a comment on this post. But it's time to give it a life of its own. So here's a little sappy post Order 66 Boil for all my Ghost Company fans.

“All right then. You’re all set. You’ll find the mess hall straight ahead. You’ll be able to grab a bite there. I’ll meet you in a bit to give you the rest of the tour.” The tall Twi'lek finished one last stroke on his datapad before giving Boil a fleeting smile.

One of politeness rather than any true sense of solidarity.

Boil couldn’t blame him. In the time since he last stepped foot on Ryloth, so much had changed. He had been a hero then, rescuing the people from Seppie occupation. In the years since, troopers - first clone than storm - had ravaged Ryloth and the Twi'leks who called it home.

He knew his face wouldn’t really be welcome. Only tolerated for the skills he offered. But that was fine. Boil wasn’t looking for friends. Honestly, he didn't think he could handle that again. All he wanted was the opportunity to make things right.

He had too much blood on his hands. And at his advanced age, the likelihood of redemption was slim. But he had to try. Ever since he heard of rebel cells aiding Cham Syndullah’s freedom fighters, he knew he had to help in any way he could.

With a barely repressed sigh, he walked through the tunnels the freedom fighters called a base, sticking to the straight path to avoid getting lost. Sure enough, the mess - if it could be called that considering it was barely more than an empty cavern - wasn’t too far.

Boil put his satchel down and was just about to take a seat when a shaky voice - foreign yet unmistakable in its gentle familiarity - called out.

“N-Nerra?”

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this drabble. And if you're interested in my writing, please check out my Masterlist!

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

Random prompt generator game

Prompts: Obi-Wan, Boil, lost

Sighing, Boil paws a low-hanging branch out of his way and promptly swears as it smacks him in the face on the rebound.

“Just admit we’re lost, already,” he grumbles as he ducks the branch and clambers over another thick knot of tree roots.

His general scoffs. “We’re not lost. Not as long as I have the Force to guide us.”

Rolling his eyes, Boil sticks his tongue out at the back of his general’s sweat stained robes. Kriffing jetti and their Force osik.

“I saw that,” General Kenobi mumbles before launching himself up to perch gracefully atop a towering boulder, because of course he can’t go five seconds without showing off, the insufferable nerf-herder.

Seething, Boil uncoils his makeshift grappling hook and tries to ignore the very obvious fray eating away at the rope’s tensile strength. He eyes the craggy surface of the boulder–

And yelps as he’s rocketed up into the air, his stomach dropping and heart nearly exploding out his chest. With a whoosh of cool air, his feet hit solid ground, and Boil staggers, grasping wildly as his legs turn to jelly beneath him.

A firm hand slides around his waist, hauls him in, steadies him. Boil clutches desperately at broad shoulders, and it’s only after he manages to temper his breathing that he realizes he’s in his general’s arms, practically nose-to-nose.

General Kenobi makes no attempt to move away. Because he’s a stubborn bastard, neither does Boil.

“Warn a guy, next time,” Boil says, and his voice might be a touch hoarse, but he’ll die before he admits that to anyone.

His general dips his head, only slightly mocking. “My apologies, Boil.” The gleam of mirth in his eyes fades as his gaze slides past Boil’s shoulders, fixing on the distant treetops. “This is… not right. I was sure the camp was in this direction, but…”

But there’s no sign of the milky lavender river cutting through the forest like a scar, just endless trees packed tight into the valley below, shrouded by the evening mist.

Meeting General Kenobi’s gaze levelly, Boil raises an eyebrow. “Now do you believe we’re lost?”

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 1)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, description of night terror, descriptions of person and animal injury :/, violence, fluff, canon character death, and description of near-death experience.

Summary: Soon after losing yourself within your own mind, you are deployed to the distant planet Lanos to aid Obi-Wan Kenobi in his secondary mission of delivering supplies to a Republic supply port amidst his coordination of the primary fleet rendevous. But as you begin to dip your toes into the responsibilities that accompany becoming a General in The Clone Wars, you are quick to discover that lightyears of travel will do nothing to shield you from the consequences of being The Guardian.

Song Inspo: Widow's Peak — Neil Finn

Words: 8.2K

A/n: I'M ALIVEEEE. Haha, sorry for the long hiatus, but I'm back with Chapter 1 of Part II (of many). We begin with events running tangentially to Rising Malevolence. Also, I have to thank each and every one of you for your continued support. I can't put into words how much it means to me to receive your Kudoses and read your comments. It's what has really driven me to make this story as entertaining for y'all as possible. So thank you ❤️ So excited to be back! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one in the comments below :)

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Series Masterlist

Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead — Benjamin Franklin

Squinting against the icy gale as loose flakes snagged your eyelashes, you steadied into a stiff crouch atop the snowy plain. One that stretched out for endless miles across the hostile planet’s pallid surface, but still allowed for enough idle traction with the dig of your determined heels into its niveous layers.

It wasn’t the easiest feat, considering your small body of just five years felt like loose parchment against the billowing gusts that howled past your ears and ruffled the furs of your Wampan cloak. But, no matter, you still did well for your age, relying on the Force’s converging stability to focus your body and mind on the far more interesting sight that lay ahead.

Sharp claws scurrying and scraping into the chipping frost below, the long, floppy-eared Ice Scrabbler continued its desperate search for the day’s meal. Your eyes graced its soft, brown coat, taking note of the progressive ruggedness that characterized the ends of its tail, and tight curls which twisted its cheeks into a perpetual frown.

What tugged at the muscles cornering your lips, however, was neither of those benign features. It was, instead, that pointed beak— a quite bulbous thing that greatly contrasted against the equally confused set of tiny button eyes dotting either oblivious side of the animal’s head as it remained affixed toward the ground.

You giggled.

Floppy ears spun like propellers, slapping against the small creature’s pointed mouth while those same, searching eyes locked cautiously onto your figure.

Sucking in the winter’s teeth-rotting chill, you held your breath, hoping not to upset the being any more than you obviously already had. Instead, you took comfort, simply by watching the miniature thing while your shoulders relaxed into the imperceptible numbing sensation the weather cast onto your grinning lips.

But the Galaxy had other plans, as the Scrabbler seemed to derive permission from your stilled expression to commence a slow approach. In which, placing one carefully lowered paw in front of the other, it rigidly prowled toward your figure crouched only a few feet away.

Still, you watched on quite happily, permitting the critter to carry out its nature during one of those rare trips you and your friend took across the planet’s surface.

Until the Scrabbler’s suddenly coiled spine launched like a flash of light toward your arm, levying a hefty scratch with sharp claws that plunged your knees into the sleet.

You cried out, thrusting a reactive fist toward the defensive, four-legged animal as the Force carried out your whim, sending its surprised limbs tumbling into the unfeeling embrace of a nearby, blackened rock that jutted ruggedly from the ice.

“Are you alright?” Qui-Gon asked calmly while swiftly approaching your squatting figure, having left behind his light scavenging efforts some meters away in favor of the sudden commotion.

You wiped a loose, crystal tear from your cheek as the wise-eyed man kneeled before you, gently grasping your small arm to assess the damage prior to loosening a travel pack off his back and down his shoulder so to leisurely rummage through its varied contents.

“That dumb thing attacked me!” You spit, eyes narrowed on the Scrabbler’s semi-distant form that softly limped beyond its disturbed landing spot, silent whimpers trailing paw prints which denting the snow.

That’s when the old Jedi’s gaze locked with yours. And without sharing a hint of anything but lifted features of neutrality and acceptance, your Master blindly grasped onto whatever he was looking for from his pack.

Soon, he revealed the mystery by raising a white bandage roll from its rear compartment before, once more, motioning for your arm, all of which began the gradual process of wrapping its red-streaked, mangled body that stung from the dissolving mess of descending flakes.

“Do you think they were unwise in attacking you?” The man questioned, circling the itchy white ribbon firmly around the inking, crimson wound.

You stared at him straight. “Yeah!”

“Even if they saw you as a threat?”

“But I wasn’t doing anything!” You complained, scrunching your nose in annoyance. “I was just… watching it.”

After tightly sealing your arm from any risk of leakage, the Master Jedi tied off the bandage. Embracing the seconds following that last, knotted loop to face you with his whole self, completely, before he settled to speak.

“Sometimes, we can do nothing at all, and everything right, yet still face the consequences.”

He rose to his feet, offering you a warm hand to firmly grab as you lugged yourself upwards, catching your sprightly feet to stand beside his articulate incarnation.

“But it is our responsibility as Jedi to face such circumstances without fear.”

Your eyes raised toward the warm, hue-scattered horizon, scanning the icy expanse for the animal before that same, conflicted stare grounded on a small brown ball of fur, quivering a few meters beyond the rock like a fleck upon a pearly white blanket.

“I wasn’t scared,” you defended meekly, a subtle pull tugging at your chest. “I was just… upset.”

But no matter how much you tried to hide it, Qui-Gon seemed to take clear notice of your gaze as his own subtly curious expression traced it to the nearby cramped creature struggling through a noticeable limp.

“It is fear that leads us to become upset. Fear that guides us to take it out on others.”

With deliberate leisure, the Master Jedi approached the trembling, small Scrabbler, leading you to follow in step as you steadily trailed along through suffocating snow banks. Their spilling bodies gliding like hands with tightening fingers as if ready to clasp your ankles before yanking you down into their underground world.

He hummed lowly, taking careful measure not to panic the tiny animal with intimidating noises. “But we must act compassionately to all. Even those who frighten us.”

Before long, the two of you reached the whining Scrabbler. And, with each successive movement that Qui-Gon made, from kneeling down to even extending a sedated, innocuous arm toward its wet snout, the being could only shrink in place at what they perceived as coming doom. With its left, front leg dreadfully abraded and slowly bleeding into reddening fur at the bend, that was all it could feasibly do.

Until the back of Qui-Gon’s hand graced those drooping ears, the gentle, kneading strokes progressively plucking out the Scrabbler’s surreptitiously affectionate nature. Most evident when the smoothly tranquilizing critter leaned into the Master Jedi’s palm with pleasurably squinting eyes, as if his rough skin held the only warmth found for miles.

Which was probably true.

Still, as was his timeless essence, Qui-Gon sourced the infinite prowess to calm the creature a significant degree. Enough, apparently, for your dear friend to feel comfortable gradually transferring that same roll of bandaging tape into your pocket-size palms. Tiny fingers which impulsively clutched onto the ruggedly thin material as your confounded gaze communicated every baffling, skeptical thought that flitted through your mind.

But all that only compelled the Master Jedi to respond with was a subtle, lighthearted beckon of the brows toward the faintly preoccupied, wild animal.

So, with equal prudence, and a healthy bout of watchful nerves, you gently wrapped your tiny fingers around the creature's leg.

Yet as those chilled digits graced bloodied fur bordering the Scrabbler’s wound, you were quick to earn a flick of its bulbous skull toward your now stiffened form, followed by a quiet, meaningful growl that seemed to sting your freshly wrapped wound the most.

This time, however, you didn’t react so rashly.

With Qui-Gon’s silent encouragement acting in tandem with his subsisted, distracting ear scratches, you carefully began wrapping the abrasion.

“To be their friend?” You questioned, eyes locked into the twirling, pearly fabric.

Qui-Gon lifted his hand from the Scrabbler while he considered your words, allowing the latter to curiously observe your actions with a regularly tilting head and clicking beak as the Jedi Master’s eyes graced the blue sky’s boundless existence.

“A Jedi is a friend to all who are imbued with the living Force.”

Your brows furrowed at the old man whose gaze had traveled elsewhere, though your hands remained steady. “But that’s… everything.”

His serene stare skipped back toward your patient expression.

“You are correct,” he smiled softly.

With a securing knot at the upper leg, you finished bandaging the creature, leaving enough room for them to bend their knee during the next few weeks of healing until the fabric dissolved.

The Scrabbler, too, seemed to approve of your quick handiwork, as they swiftly leaned over to swipe their beak past your cheek, offering a sloppy, wet lick of appreciation. All the while their sandpaper-like tongue roped a feeble giggle to fall past your lips.

And it was enough, too, to reel you back into the reality of your actions, like an air bubble shooting to the surface of any deep ocean.

“I feel bad,” you faintly admitted, averting your gaze from the only honorable man you’d ever known.

Instead, you focused your guilt by repaying the presently comfortable creature with a few scratches on their unfairly soft, browned back.

“There is no need,” he declared nonchalantly. “You have made your amends and were forgiven.”

A gentle, thrumming purr oozed from the Scrabbler’s belly— a sound so foreign yet entirely relaxing that it drowned out the echoing howls of swelling gusts that whipped your hair and numbed your cheekbones.

Still, nothing could ever stifle the way Qui-Gon’s subtle wisdoms stimulated your inner thoughts. Whether it was hours or days prior, once the gravity of his words set in, it was like rushing water to the crops of your mind.

You couldn’t help but drink it in.

“So… when I’m The Guardian, I’ll have to protect everyone else too? Why can’t I just help The Chosen One to keep balance in the Force?”

A sudden warmth enveloping your shoulder drew your gaze, along with your once stooped body, upwards. Empowering you to wonder up at the soft-eyed Jedi whose comforting grasp always reminded you that as long as he was around, you’d always be safe.

“Because all life is sacred, Young One. It is as meaningful as it is fleeting. It is when we accept this truth that we may find peace in the Galaxy.”

You grinned.

Until the wisp of glazed disorientation consuming Qui-Gon’s once bright, blue eyes drew it to falter.

“Qui-Gon?” You questioned nervously with wrinkled brows.

His jaw plunged open, orbs swirling gray as a sharp, red glow reflecting off their gloss caught your attention against the world’s white sheen.

You snapped your heed down toward a new heat, settled in the form of a blaring, red saber that burned your watering eyes. Sucking the life from your breath once your gaze traced its body from the hilt lying neatly in your palm all the way into Qui-Gon’s marred gut.

“Qui-Gon!” You cried. “I didn’t mean to!”

A maniacal hiss from just behind fluttered past your tingling ear, catching your heart in your throat as two fierce hands with sharpened nails dug ruthlessly into your arms to wheel you around.

A blood face lined by black streaks, craggy horns threatening to scratch out your skin, and eyes as yellow as the darkest side of the most rotten star.

“General.”

He grabbed your throa—

“General, sir.”

Shimmering silver eyes shot open, subdued shock heaving your once-lying chest upwards like a pebble stuck to the end of a string as you disjointedly adjusted to the warped, muggy cavern’s dimmed surroundings. That very instant in which your shoulders graced a higher altitude, you unconsciously scooted, palms scrambling your back to touch the rear, cold rock face while your mind caught up to the blood rushing in from your tingling extremities.

It was a brief existence of disorientation as disorderly thoughts gradually adjusted for the contrasting present. Allowing your senses to hone in on the fact that you were still within that happenstance cave on Lanos. One that you, Obi-Wan, and his Ghost Company of the 212nd decided to take short respite in, you quickly recalled.

Through that brisk remembrance, you found the blurriness of odd shapes soon cleared like melting ice into the curved lines and sharper cuts of clone troopers’ white and black uniforms, which graciously dotted your surroundings.

Some, like you, were resting against the cavern’s walls in various states of lying, sitting, and leaning, across or beside scattered Republic-marked cargo containers. A couple for shut-eye, and one group for, what looked like, a quick game of Card Commander, which you’d heard a bit about these last few days.

Others moved through the makeshift corridor manufactured by sporadically lounging bodies. Either in straight dialogues with one another or to strictly coordinate the transport of supply-riddled repulsersleds back out into the valley that formed this cave at least a millennia ago.

Most noticeable, however, was the clone trooper stood just in front of your once dormant figure. Presenting a silent disposition which dedicated his helmed stare to an existence of patient observation. All while you attempted to conceal somewhat erratic breaths emerging from that strange dream’s persisting sensation of bottomless emptiness as it settled within your chest like a voracious parasite.

Because it all just felt a little too real.

Nevertheless, you rammed that feeling down.

“Apologies for waking you, sir, but General Kenobi requested I inform you that we will begin moving again in the next ten minutes.”

You nodded, adjusting your spine against the rather uncomfortable, bumpy crag before glancing up at the bulkily masked trooper. One of the many soldiers in this Company tasked with acting as a defensive escort to a ground supply convo headed for the Republic’s Lanos supply port that still stood a few clicks out.

You recalled how the atmospheric electrical storm dancing beyond the skies forced the three cargo shuttles to land at least five clicks out from the compound in order to ensure a safe landing. Which, of course, left a quick trek as the only guarantee of a punctual supply delivery. All in hopes that this secondary mission would be completed in time for Kenobi to return the Negotiator.

He did have to coordinate an entire fleet rendezvous to protect the main supply convoys, after all. So, haste prevailed as the most important factor; no matter if Obi-Wan’s primary mission remained in the same system.

Speed, yes. A constant rush. That would explain why you felt so jostled when awoken. Particularly if you’d only been out for a few minutes.

Well, that among other factors.

“Thank you,” you croaked, throat dry from sleeplessness until you cleared it with a gruff cough. “And your name?”

“Designation CT-7212, General,” he straightened. “But the boys call me Boil.”

“Boil,” you hummed, tasting the vowels. “I like that. But call me Silvey.”

You climbed to your feet, reaching for your knees to pat off the dirt that had accumulated in your unconscious state.

“Sir?” He asked perplexed.

You glanced up at the man, and, were it not for the helmet, you would’ve seen a sharp, bundle of nerves stitch together his brows right about now.

“Close, but you’re missing a couple letters,” you teased, throwing a light smile toward the speechless soldier undoubtedly drenched in discomfort, until you adopted a more practical, commanding tone.

“No General, no sir. Just Silvey.”

Boil offered a curt nod. “Understood sir—uh—Silvey.”

You opened your mouth, loosened tongue primed to inquire about the approximate arrival time to the Republic port, when a vivid, repeating flash erupted from your wrist. Followed by a high-pitched beep and vibrating buzz that, in equal intervals, tingled like tiny Endorian ants up and down your non-dominant arm.

Your new wrist comm seemed to be aptly functioning, you thought while glancing down at the device. It was one of the few upgrades the Republic Army supplied for your wears. Much like the other handful of Jedi you’d seen dressed for battle, you bore forearm-length granite gray gauntlets and shin guards that blended well with your long-sleeved charcoal tunic and trousers. Even the sage shoulder guard did an excellent job extending into your similarly tinted robe’s design.

Though, in hindsight, it wasn’t the most appropriate clothing for such a humid cavern, considering how the cloth stuck to your skin and pulled droplets from your forehead like a desert heat.

All in all, you couldn’t wait to step outside into unfettered air.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” you informed Boil, who simply nodded before retreating down the passageway while you comfortably folded your legs to answer the comm.

Only to hear a familiar groan of annoyance as Anakin seemed to, once again, request that Ahsoka leave from whichever room he was currently occupying on a ship lightyears away. From what you could make out, he was suggesting to his Padawan that she inform the Admiral of their split approach tactic. Still, you couldn’t gather much else from the exchange as it was swiftly followed by the clear whoosh of a sealing door that prompted you to speak.

“Glad to hear that you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sorry,” he huffed into the comm, a tin film separating the essence of his voice from you. “My Padawan has yet to learn how to talk with the Council.”

“Struggling with tact? Sounds like someone else I know.”

And the brief silence that followed suggested all you needed to adequately imagine the thin, unimpressed line characterizing the Chosen One’s frustrated lips.

Which was certainly enough to yank a healthy chuckle out of you.

Until a concerned edge cut you off.

“Obi-Wan dodged my question when I asked how you were a few minutes ago.”

Your jaw subconsciously tightened.

This is exactly what you were hoping to avoid.

Anakin worrying about you when he had much more on his mind to deal with.

You knew particularly well what it was like to lose someone you were close to. Including the dangers of tying another string to one more rattling tree so soon after a mother’s death. Which is why you didn’t want to complicate his potential endeavors of relying on the Force to forge ahead with your own, peeling branches.

Nevertheless, while you were sure Obi-Wan did his best in redirecting Anakin’s questioning, you were now close enough with The Chosen One to know that he was quite capable of catching someone, especially his former Master, in a subtle act of deception.

Although there was perhaps still a way to salvage this, you considered.

So, you feigned ignorance.

“Oh?”

“Are you okay?” He questioned without a lick of hesitation.

“I’m fine, Ana—“

“I know something is going on. That it has been for a while. But no one is tellin—“

“Anakin, drop it,” you stated tersely.

A perpetual silence seemed to cloud the comm line, interrupted by only the occasional pop of static that merely acted as proof of life.

Still, it supplied enough of a buffer for you to hopefully steer the conversation to something more… productive? Harmonious?

No matter the uncomfortable sheen that draped across your figure, that needed to happen.

He couldn’t have any distractions.

“Um,” you breathed deeply before releasing a noisy exhale. “If you heard from Obi-Wan, I assume it was during the Council meeting on that new Separatist weapon I’ve been hearing so much about,” you inquired somewhat smoothly. “Any news on your end?”

Another beat of complicated stillness crossed the communique before Anakin’s firm, business-oriented tone echoed through the line.

“Master Plo Koon’s fleet was in the Abregado System when we lost contact. Sensors say that this weapon may be why. But the Council ordered we redirect to protect the supply convoys.”

“Sounds like I’ll be seeing you soon,” you commented while your chest distended at the loss of life. “Who’s been tasked with rescuing the survivors?”

“Technically, no one,” he straightly remarked. “But… you also probably won’t be seeing me as soon as you thought.”

Well, that certainly tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Bring support,” you advised.

“Don’t worry,” Anakin relayed, a slight unsettlement underlying his tone. “The Master Insubordinate herself is tagging along. Ahsoka was the one who wanted to go in the first place.”

“Like Master, like Padawan,” you remarked lightheartedly, hoping to relieve the Jedi’s mood.

“At least she’s learning something, I guess.”

Though, despite the levity of his words, you could still hear the steady unease buffering his voice like a decaying foundation, fracturing all the way up to its highest spires.

A nervous trill swirled in your gut.

He seemed to be in better spirits before. So then…

Was this your doing?

Did your earlier deflection infect him with this gradual rot of apprehension?

“I won’t tell Obi-Wan,” you revealed, hoping to seize some sense that perhaps his tense articulations were primarily rooted in that particular worry. “But please update him when he starts coordinating the rendezvous. Otherwise, he’s gonna turn gray because of us. Well, if he doesn’t figure it out by then.”

Silence spoke for your groundless optimism instead.

And, against every warring cell of your being that despairingly endeavored to justify the past month’s clandestine behavior, it suddenly forced you to consider:

Were you making things worse?

No. No.

The alternative of sharing these strange afflictions was sure to confuse your role as his protector. His Guardian.

Not the other way around.

… but

Hiding it? When he already knew something was going on?

And it was that very justification that seemed to lift some invisible veil from your radiantly, silver eyes.

You’d driven this secret to its farthest bounds, when scooping at its crumbling remains proved to just pour sand into unwanted places.

And the result?

Keeping such a lid sealed only allowed for the pressure to rise.

And if there was any hope of ensuring that Anakin would be able to focus on his mission, on himself, without undeniable questions regarding your being bouncing about his brain, it meant that it was time to crack it a sliver.

Lest it explode into a million, tiny shards.

You exhaled, quite desultorily.

He believed in you. At least, somewhat.

And you him.

Though you still couldn’t help but shake your head at yourself as this decision haphazardly knitted its way across your synapses.

It was time to rely on that trusting notion.

And although, given the tightly wrapped string already knotted around your branches, there was little other choice, you could only hope that this was, in fact, the right one.

No matter how compromising it felt to share.

“I don’t know what it was,” you lowly breathed with mindless abandon.

Another beat.

“Huh?” His tired voice crackled through.

“What happened to me,” you angled your head to watch a handful of clones secure the last two, red and white cargo containers lining the cavern’s walls on a large, gray repulsorsled for travel. “I don’t know what it was.”

Anakin could’ve yelled until his throat turned raw and it still would’ve sounded like a distant squeak in comparison to the rumble of his quickening heart. A beat you could sense from his uncontrollably stilled breath thousands of planets away.

“What happened, Silvey?”

“I’m not sure how much Obi-Wan has told you—“

“Nothing,” he tightly reminded.

“He’s not to blame, Anakin,” you assured, eyes lifting to the cave’s rugged ceiling. “I asked him to keep this private.”

You sighed, closing your eyes momentarily as you gathered your thoughts surrounding the peculiarity of recent events while the Jedi on the other side of the Galaxy lingered in quiet anticipation.

“Pretty soon after arriving on Coruscant, I started having these strange headaches. They weren’t great, but manageable. Until it got worse. One of those times being in the fighter cockpit, if you recall. Eventually, I found some kind of solution. Well, a few. It’s hard to put into words. But, that’s not important. I—“

You swallowed thickly.

“There was an… incident. I was meditating and then, I don’t know, the headaches came back and my mind went… somewhere else? A different land, I suppose. A deadly one.”

You exhaled through your nostrils, taking Anakin’s perpetual silence as permission to continue.

“Obi-Wan was nearby so he helped bring me back before… before it was too late. But whatever happened in there… it changed something. I don’t know. I just don’t feel like myself, I suppose.”

You shrugged, forgetting temporarily that this was, in fact, not a holocomm call.

“From what I was told by Master Windu, I passed out. Spent the rest of the day in the Infirmary before being declared fit for duty and shipping out the next morning. Nothing has happened since then so hopefully it’s all in the past.”

“What do you mean another land?” Anakin questioned, crossed brows and tensed teeth traveling as clearly as his voice through the gravely comm.

“Just that,” you admitted honestly. “Another land. Lots of black rocks, rough waters...”

You bit your lip.

“Well, Obi-Wan did say he sensed a darkness there.”

“Not in you?” Anakin nearly pleaded.

“No, no,” you confirmed quickly, shaking your head for no one in particular. “Just in this ‘place.’” Uneasily, you rubbed your moist forehead with the back of your chilled hand. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“No kidding,” Anakin huffed, before his voice softened into a realm that nearly made you question whether he believed someone was eavesdropping from the other end of that far-off door.

“But, you’re okay?”

You smiled gently to yourself, chin dipping into your chest as you sensed a waxing alleviation flood his side of the comm before you even had the chance to respond.

“I’m alright,” you verbalized, releasing that last bit of trouble pervading your mind.

Well, other than that strange imagery your brain concocted earlier.

That was no dream, you soon surmised once you allowed such thoughts to finally coalesce into a more, credulous form since awakening.

It was something else.

A corrupted memory, perhaps.

You recalled that particular scouting day on Hoth. How the Scrabbler mistook you for a credible threat. And how Qui-Gon, as always, used the experience for a teaching moment.

But that red lightsaber... laid in your hands…

Piercing your Master’s life force.

A trickle of guilt crawled down your spine.

That devil face…

You shuddered.

No.

This was something entirely new.

And, still, nothing with enough substance to be quite concerned about just yet.

Nothing worth sharing.

“You better get going,” you counseled, focusing your mind on the present. “People need you, Anakin.”

“That they do,” he chuckled, leading you to subconsciously shake your head at his oddly charming ego.

Until he abated to relay one last item.

“Thanks, Silvey.”

You cocked your head curiously at his sudden warmth. “For what?”

Another crackle of the comm.

“For trusting me.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“I’ve always trusted you Anakin,” you breathed. “Just needed a little reminder.”

“Then keep a calendar, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Shut it, Smarty.”

And, somehow, you knew that even hundreds of parsecs away, The Chosen One and his Guardian were, in equal measure, smiling at their respective comms with an expression only either would recognize.

“Bring as many of those boys home as you can, Anakin. You hear me? I’ve heard countless stories about Master Plo over the years. And no Separatist ploy can cut him down.”

“I’ll be sure to share your praises when I find him.”

You could taste his grin as your teeth parted.

“You better.”

—

If Master Kenobi appreciated anything during this secondary mission, it was Lanos’s proclivity for far-reaching, grassy plains and vivaciously deep gales. An environment that, in some ways, reflected Naboo’s natural monuments, which the bearded Jedi had opportune time to take note of during its battle ten years ago. Though, while Lanos carried less staggering plateaus, its rolling hills had the power to eclipse the sight of any mortal being, effortlessly putting Theed to shame.

Still, his enjoyment of these notable planetary characteristics stretched far beyond aesthetic pleasures. They acted as a strategic advantage for the task at hand: delivering necessary cargo while remaining hidden from the visual sensors of Separatist ships dedicated to broad-band sector scans only parsecs away.

It was why the General chose this pathway in particular. A profound valley whose towering, dense rock walls and thick vegetation would do wonders in concealing about 36 armed clones, 27 repulsorsleds of cargo, and two Jedi from periodic sweeps. Especially during an electrical storm.

Maybe it was that self-assured sense of security, that peace of mind imbued by the presence of a large Republic fleet in the sector above, that beckoned Kenobi’s mind to wander beyond those scattered, nine clusters of steadily marching clones and hovering supplies.

He was instead drawn toward the far more compelling presence trekking about ten meters ahead. Locked in friendly conversation with a convo-guarding solider who carried a green, circular mark on his helm’s rear.

You.

You. You. You. That’s all that consumed the General’s mind.

And, for quite a logical reason, of course.

It had only been a few days prior when the two of you narrowly escaped the brink of death at the hands of your own mind. An experience that flooded the Jedi’s thoughts with seemingly unanswerable questions and unsettling speculations. All rooted in one, unmistakable conclusion.

Obi-Wan sensed a great darkness there.

Never before the incident, not since after, and, frankly, never within you.

Never a part of you.

Just, there.

It was such a nebulous, unfamiliar sensation that no Basic words existed to support its nature— a conception which bloomed childlike echoes of uncertainty within Obi-Wan’s very being.

But even that wasn’t a fair assessment. Kenobi felt immeasurably more well-versed while a young Padawan in the intricacies of the Force and their purport than he had in the previous days.

Much like your headaches, those murky energies were there for as long as your mind was trapped. Until freeing you compelled them to disappear, preferably for good.

But what occurred in order for you to rediscover your connection to the light, so to escape that nightmarish realm, he did not know. All he knew was that in some peculiar way, he felt it affect him as well.

In a process that compelled him to momentarily misplace his being within the Force while he rushed to find it again.

Though it was nothing compared to what Obi-Wan experienced when he nearly lost you too.

Your spirit-paled face. Those cold fingers that rivaled even the temperatures of your home planet.

Your once vibrantly silver eyes faded into a distant, stiff gray.

Thank the Maker he hadn’t waited for the Healer.

Against the stony judgment of Windu’s agitated brows and thinned lips, Obi-Wan decided that he couldn’t just kneel there. He couldn’t simply linger. Doing nothing to aid you besides propping up your slacked spine before it slammed against the rigid balcony amidst that sudden fall.

The Galaxy, the Order, and Anakin needed The Guardian. And the Master Jedi was going to carry out his Council-given duty to ensure that exigency was fulfilled.

So, with a firm verbal commitment to his fellow Master that Kenobi would be getting help, he scooped up your nearly lifeless body into contrastingly scorching arms before taking off sprinting.

He zigzagged around corners, down winding staircases, and through twisting hallways. Dashing all the way, and ignoring every inquisitive glance and curiously dragging foot until he reached the Temple Infirmary.

“Just in time too, Master Kenobi. I believe we would have lost them had you arrived a moment later.”

Master Nema’s words reverberated against his inner skull like the ticking of a bomb. One he’d only nearly prevented from shattering everything in its path. It rang the loudest amidst those timeless seconds in which the uneasy Jedi, powerlessly staring from a distant corner, followed the platoon of medical droids swirling around your body that drifted in and out of critical condition.

It was not until the Master Healer deemed you well on the way to recovery that Obi-Wan found greater ease in dulling those eery tolls. Chiming bells signaling a now distant reaper of peace and light that trailed him all the way to Master Yoda and Windu’s emergency meeting called to be held on one of the high spire’s windy private balconies after the fact.

“Darkness in them or not. There is no gray."

A concept every Jedi was taught from a very young age, the bearded man knew. So he certainly didn’t need a reminder from the Grand Master himself. Especially when the fact of Obi-Wan’s analysis still held true:

“Yet, I sense it no longer.”

“Still, that argument remains immaterial, Master Kenobi. As you may recall, I have engaged with Silvey in deep meditation to access her mind for the past month and have had little success. Perhaps, in their momentary weakness, you were able to sense what was present all along.”

“Coincidence, it is not, their headaches and loss of mind. More, there is to this story. But in the light, Young Silvey resides.”

And Obi-Wan wholeheartedly agreed.

Not just because he was now beginning to understand the Jedi you were, but also due to another salient development that sprouted with a subtlety akin to the budding petals of a Jade rose.

That, while uncomfortably idling in the doorway of your infirmary cubicle for news, only a few hours after the droids recorded a steadily strengthening heartbeat, did Kenobi discover with boggled irises the faintest sensation of your mind’s presence for the very first time.

A distinct vicissitude that only he himself seemed to perceive.

The auburn-haired man thought he’d have a moment to explore this development too. He needed time to understand, to discover, what it was that could’ve possibly initiated this change. Maybe meditation during the temporary separation from your being, which was bound to occur with your recovery taking place amidst Kenobi’s next-day deployment, would provide some answers.

Yet, come the following morning, as the General ambled down the Temple’s outer hall, he instead sensed a familiarizing presence. It wasn’t until he turned into the hangar bay to greet one of his platoons did he come to realize why the impression felt so novel, as he clocked a fully mended Silvey chatting amongst the clones.

Undeniably, he had an obligation to pull you aside.

“You should be recovering.”

“I’m as healthy as I’m gonna be, Obi-Wan. I’m cleared for duty, and Master Windu said that I’ve been assigned to your deployment. So you’re stuck with me.”

And he certainly was.

He was stuck with you, and he was stuck with these new perceptions that, even just a few hours ago, drove his mind into backflips after summersaults as he endeavored to decipher them.

It was a strange sensation. He barely felt it. A blip from your presence during the Company’s brief recess at one of the valley’s cave entrances a click back.

A weight. A brief pressure leaning on his chest.

But, just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

And what all that meant was that Obi-Wan Kenobi was also stuck with himself. Throughout this supply port journey, while he paced those same ten meters behind your conversational figure, the bearded man felt trapped within that gnawing, clawing realization that he was simply following in the footsteps of that same dreadful mistake he’d committed during the prior month.

Leaving you to your own when he knew that something was wrong. Observing from afar when he had the power to say something. All ignored in favor of his omnipresent trepidation that was primarily fueled by your history of swift withdrawals whenever faced with internal inklings of distress.

Well, no longer.

Master Kenobi nodded to the black-and-white helmeted clone sergeant leading the gradually hovering group of repulsorsleds beside him, signaling that there was no need to follow before picking up his stride through the caravan’s strict formation.

A Jedi learned from the past.

And this particular Jedi was quickly inferring that if he wished to certify that you were, in fact, ‘as healthy as you were gonna be,’ he had to personally confirm it:

At least, that’s what he told himself while he promptly neared your ambling figure still enraptured by deep conversation with a Corporal.

There was no more polite waiting until the last minute.

The Master Jedi recalled the impression of holding your icy, limp body. How it felt like a shutter from a sudden coil of wind chill.

And he didn’t like it at all.

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan projected, causing you to pause mid-discussion in favor of angling your neck back toward him with expectant brows.

The bearded Jedi continued. “A moment?”

Offering a faint smile toward his resolved gaze, Kenobi observed as you briefly turned back to the clone.

“Nice talking with you, Getter. Let’s catch up later.”

And with that, you eased your heels back to walk beside the older Jedi. An action additionally facilitated by a sudden gust that tugged equally at both your fluttering robes like a raised sail.

“Getter?” Kenobi questioned light-heartedly as a faint smile graced his lips. “I believe he’s a new addition to the Company, so I’ve yet to learn the root of that moniker.”

Obi-Wan watched your knowing eyes pass onto him an aura of sweet appreciation that sprawled out to every inch of your body before leaving glowing remnants atop the receding grass.

“Your new recruit was labeled as quite the ‘go-getter’ during his Kamino days,” you expressed, nodding your chin toward the named clone marching ahead as your gaze focused in the same direction. “Which equals having an olive painted on your helmet. Green means go,” you chuckled.

Kenobi hummed appreciatively, allowing another whistle of wind to whip by your bodies as it challenged both strides with equal resistance.

Until it calmed enough, dissipating into a gentle blow, for his facial muscles to relax into the real reason he called you back.

“How are you feeling?”

“You know,” you began with a teasing lilt. “That’s the second time I’ve been asked that today.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head with interest, brows slightly furrowing with hands trailing to meet each other behind his back while he hung for you to resume.

“A friendly warning,” you smirked. “Anakin can read you better than you think.”

And then it clicked.

“Anakin had inquired following this morning’s holocomm meeting,” Obi-Wan soberly relayed, eyes glued to the verdant blades of grass traveling past his strolling brown boots. “But I assure you, Silvey, I hadn’t revealed anything about your condition.”

“It’s okay, Obi-Wan,” you calmed, moderately bobbing your head side to side in thought as you considered your words. “I’m choosing to look at it as a blessing in disguise. I think I made a mistake it not telling him earlier.”

Kenobi silently nodded before peering up at you inquisitively. “So, he knows?”

You offered him a distinct look.

“He knows,” you acknowledged, the General noticing as your silver eyes snagged onto some pointed sight beyond his other flank that brightened their gleam. “And he seems to be taking it well.”

Collarbone following your gaze, Obi-Wan glanced to his right when a whipping movement among the bordering foliage centered his own vision.

Streaks of fiery orange lined the back of some fox-like creature that darted from one bush to another. Its fur blending into a pale yellow, soft underbelly and hind legs that flared brightly below Lanos’s equally glaring sun.

It continued its frantic trek of sprightly bounds while skittering into thickets of obscurity. Though soon, the animal’s narrowed skull and gold-ringed irises found rationale to peak out from the opposite end of a latent bush, snout drawing a pure line of curiosity toward both your figures five meters away.

“And regarding my inquiry?” Kenobi gently pressed with a nonchalant regard centered on the timid creature as you and the bearded Jedi naturally reigned your steps into a brief pause.

Though, instead of distantly observing, the General felt through the Force’s most sensitive intricacies the subtle brush of your arm floating past his as you carefully approached the furry onlooker.

With one airy foot after another, all while ignoring the rear battalion’s continual trudge onwards, you reached a free hand to your robe’s pocket. Meticulous fingers searching for some loose item as you quietly spoke,

“Master Kenobi,” you hummed factitiously, digits grasping onto some cylindrical, crackling object that you swiftly tugged from its enclosure to reveal as a pearly white ration bar. “I admit, the preceding, mind-altering incident was not ideal.”

Smoothly, you snapped off a piece of the food item, the resulting crack catching the doe-eyed fox’s twitching nose. Drawing its creeping figure a step or two out from the concealing foliage as your voice evenly lowered in response.

“But I’ve had my fair share of fainting spells from exhaustive circumstances before. And I’ve recovered all the same.”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed perplexedly.

“Fainting spells?” He questioned under his breath, looking onwards with now crossed arms as your final paces and kneeling figure landed you before the creature's nervously narrowing eyes and prying spine.

Is that why you were acting so careless about this incident? Did you not know how close to death you nearly came? The Healer on duty or your Master would’ve fully explained what truly occurred, Kenobi assured himself. Yet, you appeared unaware. Oblivious to Obi-Wan’s efforts to save your life that oh so nearly fell short.

If so, he had a responsibility to inform you.

Perhaps it was this sudden conviction which dragged his once stilled feet to stroll toward your bowed figure. To approach the same generous being that fed each broken ration bar piece to a greedily licking fox whose snout relaxed into your warm, outstretched palm.

“We only have a finite count of those,” Kenobi expressed as he reached your side, eyeing the raised, gingered fur of a creature equal parts absorbed and oblivious. “It was intended to last you the day.”

You angled your outspoken head and raised brows back toward him. “I think we can both agree that he’s enjoying it way more than I ever could’ve,” you grinned glowingly, nose crinkling with each lick that clearly tickled your fingertips as the animal lapped up every last crumb of ‘flavor.’

A sight that caused a soreness to shoot by Obi-Wan’s sternum, disappearing just as quickly as it arrived.

The loss of innocence in this new world, he surmised. From this war, and the years preceding it. Seeing an act as simple and kind as this certainly did numbers to remind him of the peace that marked most of his Padawan days.

And he disfavored that he’d have to slice into it like a saber through bark.

“Silvey, do you know what happened after we exited your mind?”

Again, you twisted toward Obi-Wan, sharing an equally amused yet questioning expression that lifted you from your squat to shake off foreign slobber with a sliding clap or two.

“Um, yeah,” you shrugged your shoulders, pivoting to face the battalion’s forward movement before leaning into another hiking pace that led Obi-Wan’s white shin-guarded legs to traipse in tandem. “Master Windu said I passed out. Nothing a day’s rest in the infirmary couldn’t heal.”

Kenobi paused.

In fact, your words stopped him in his tracks altogether, the weight of which yanked down his leading foot like Coruscant’s gravitational pull on an incoming shuttle.

Obi-Wan’s probing eyes raked over your expression in search of any inkling of understatement. A fixed scan that would prod every image you reflected onto him until it satiated his urge with absolute satisfaction. A burning desire to learn of what truly happened when you left his carrying arms that day in the infirmary. And an aspiration that radiated from his orbs so fiercely, it snatched your noticing figure to halt alongside his as a concerned glow etched across your countenance.

“You were nearly killed, Silvey,” Obi-Wan hushed, hoping to keep his promise of discretion by ensuring that any nearby clone was out of earshot. “I felt your Life Force weaken in my arms. Master Nema said as much.”

Obi-Wan watched while your parted teeth tensed to chew the inside of your lip. Uneasy cheeks shifting as you raked a backhand across your lowered head in thought, wiping away a few, loose strands of sticking hair.

“I had no idea…” you uttered mindlessly.

Until your flitting eyes shot up to meet his. All while antsy feet, budged by rote, drew you both to lean into another march forward, toward the faraway Republic supply port.

“Why wouldn’t Master Windu tell me this?” You expressed, lips parted in thought as your eyes raked the traveling blades of grass for answers. “He’s known of my concerns for weeks.“

Another swiping ripple unfurled through the Force, driving Kenobi’s focus to tilt toward a familiar, fury blob dashing from verdant cover-to-cover as those recognizable golden eyes kept watch in its perpetual, ensuing creep. One whose curiosity apparently devolved into desire for another tasty treat.

Although not by any other Jedi’s standards.

“It appears you’ve acquired a new friend,” Kenobi commented, casually motioning toward the unceasing orange fox with a few fingers.

His words drew your lifted brows toward the endearing sight, with the critter’s smart golden eyes and sharp, conniving ears appearing to play a titular role in poking a restrained smile through once-drained features.

“During a time in which friends are most sought after,” you breathed before offering him a thin lip tug.

Another beat sprinkled by the resounding crunch of grass.

You roughly exhaled through your nose, eyes sheepishly drifting toward the carefully observing man before you stiffly articulated churning thoughts.

“I’m really starting to realize I owe Anakin a big apology.”

“Coincidence, it is not.”

Yoda’s eerily judicious words echoed against Obi-Wan’s skull like the instant that follows a visceral nightmare as his feet continued their steady tread across lusciously viridescent turf.

He couldn’t deny the Grand Master’s infallible logic. So much so, that his eyes pierced through your frame, passing by any deeper meaning of your long-forgotten words as his thoughts tumbled through logic spells.

This incident’s severity proved it to be no fluke.

It was something to do with your mind. And while Kenobi couldn’t grasp an ounce of clarity from the Force on the matter, he knew from recent history that any indications of what this was or where it was headed could be discerned from those peculiar, cerebral manifestations.

A thought that grew all the more concerning when a Jedi like Mace Windu failed to address it seriously.

A Jedi like him, as he blindly assumed that stress was the rationale behind your initial symptoms, despite your vehement dissent.

But, this time, Obi-Wan refused to let you keep it all inside. He wouldn’t disregard your perceptions again.

Luckily, on the former, it appeared that you were starting to agree.

“Silvey, in the nature of commensurate openness, I must ask, have you experienced any more symptoms since the incident? Specifically, in relation to your mind?”

Another gust of winding valley breeze swiped Kenobi’s robe against his legs, tugging his senses to canvas the vale. The perpetual brigade and whirring repulsorsleds’s even procession and the sunned fox agilely and stealthily weaving through shrubs not far behind streamed prominently around his perception. Even the gentle sway of a distant leaf tied to its maker, or the churning hiss of waterways that streamed through the surrounding mountains flowed with even impressions throughout the Force.

All before his mind circled back to the being at the forefront of his mind.

One whose uncertain, downcast gaze and gently parted lips had yet to answer.

And that was always an unfortunate sign.

“Silv—“

“General.”

Kenobi stalled his gate almost instantly, swiveling neck facing Lieutenant Waxer as his spine lengthened into the military-grade armor encapsulating his limbs while you correspondingly braked beside him.

“Apologies for the interruption, Sir,” Waxer elucidated toward the bearded Jedi. “The electrical storm has mostly cleared for communications. The Council is requesting your presence on The Negotiator for final rendezvous preparations.”

Kenobi nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Though he spoke with a hint of indecision.

“Go,” you clearly adjured, swirling Obi-Wan’s attention back toward your brilliantly silver eyes that easily caught onto his hesitant tone. “I can finish this delivery on my own. I’ll have Boil work with me on leading the rest of the clones temporarily in Waxer’s place while you two are off-world.”

Your first mission alone. Or partial mission, he supposed.

But you would be leading. And with limited training in the area of wartime feats. Something which certainly pulsated his unease.

“Go,” you assured, adorning a knowing smile that relaxed Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

But only after a few more seconds of analytical consideration did the Jedi Master finally raise a plain brow, tilting his beard as he left you with one final reminder:

“I’m a comm ring away.”

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[clone-anon]

Waxer got his first clone anon but what about my boy Boil? I wanna sit in his lap and make out with him, please please.

Say no more. I hope this is along the lines of what you're looking for.

You'd gone out with Boil for a fun night on the town. He looked handsome in his fatigues and you were glad you didn't have to think about working all that armor off him later. After spending time enjoying a good meal and a little dancing, you brought him back to your place.

You barely got the door closed and he was already holding both your hands, walking backwards to the loveseat. He sat down as soon as he felt his legs against the furniture. You still stood above him and briefly smiled at him with an affectionate warmth.

"Come here," he said quietly. He pulled you down on to his lap and ran a hand from your hip to knee while leaving a kiss on your lips. His eyes searched yours before taking in all your features. It was as if he time stopped and he wanted to remember every detail.

You kissed his cheek and jawline, making your way back to his lips. They tasted faintly of the fruit dessert you'd just shared at the restaurant. Boil took in a sharp breath before his tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission to go further. You smiled as you planted a wet kiss on his mouth. Your tongues danced together in gentle movements. Not demanding or rushed, but confident and loving. You brought your hands up to lightly grip his hair before carding your fingers through it. The fabric of his fatigues was softer than you thought it would be, but you'd much rather touch his skin and hair. The warmth of him made you feel at home. You left a few playful kisses on his neck as he chuckled and pulled you closer, leaving his hands around your waist and hip. He kissed a path along your collarbone before returning to your lips to continue your little dance.