#i thought not. it's not a story the jedi would tell you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saphronethaleph · 26 days ago

Text

Tibanna Gaslighting

Anakin nodded, slowly, as Palpatine finished telling him about this Darth Plagueis guy.

“That’s… an interesting story, Chancellor,” he said. “Where did you hear it from?”

“...I beg your pardon?” Palpatine replied.

“Well…” Anakin said, waving his hand in a vague sort of way, mostly for emphasis. “I got to thinking about how… you know. You said that this wasn’t a story the Jedi would tell me, and it really got me to realize that you can’t just believe everything you hear without knowing where you hear it from. So, uh… if the Jedi tell me a story about the Jedi making mistakes, that’s something that’s more likely to be believable, that kind of thing.”

He shrugged, awkwardly. “So… where did you hear it from?”

“Someone?” Palpatine replied. “It was a long time ago. You wouldn’t know him, he’s dead now.”

“That’s a shame,” Anakin admitted. “But, still… what kind of person was he?”

“Oh, a businessman,” Palpatine answered. “I worked quite closely with him for a time, though we did eventually have something of a falling out.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded. “So I guess… it could be that this person who told you this was telling the truth. I don’t know him, so I don’t know if he’d be honest about it, and I guess I can’t think of a reason why someone would tell a story about this without telling the truth but that’s kind of the same for a lot of stories, right? And they can’t all be true.”

After a pause, during which Palpatine appeared to be thinking, Anakin had another thought.

“So this businessman,” he said. “What did you have a falling out over? I don’t hear much about what you were like when you were younger, Chancellor.”

“You seem very curious, all of a sudden, Anakin,” Palpatine deflected.

“I guess,” Anakin admitted. “Maybe I’m just kind of trying to think about something to distract me from the ballet.”

“Ballet is cultural,” Palpatine pointed out.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m trying to distract myself from it,” Anakin agreed. “I guess what I’m wondering is why someone would tell you a story like that.”

“It-” Palpatine began, then shook his head. “I suppose… you may have a point, Anakin.”

“It’s like with the way the Jedi talk about the Sith,” Anakin went on. “They said the Sith were extinct for nearly a thousand years, until this Darth Maul guy showed up, and then suddenly everyone realized the Sith had been hiding out for a thousand years instead. Just, you know. Not doing anything.”

Anakin chuckled. “Maybe that’s the thing! Because Sith use the Dark Side, right? And that’s all about instant gratification, not about being hidden for hundreds of years until eventually someone gets their revenge on the rest of the galaxy… it’s almost like it’d make more sense for these Sith to just be a new group who’ve called themselves the Sith. Sith is just a name, right? And it’s not like it’s impossible to use the Dark Side otherwise… but I guess the Jedi must have thought of that.”

Palpatine’s expression looked like he’d bitten into some kind of particularly sour fruit, and Anakin frowned.

“Are you okay, Chancellor?” he asked. “Do you not like the ballet either?”

“The ballet is fine,” Palpatine answered. “I do not mind the ballet. I am wondering if my entire life has been a lie.”

“Oh, yeah, I do that sometimes,” Anakin replied.

That evening, in his office, the Chancellor glowered at his statues of the Sages of Dwarti.

Then frowned.

Why had he been doing all of this, anyway?

Power? He had that, and power was a means to an end, anyway.

The destruction of the Jedi? Maybe… but that was a means to an end. Not an end in itself. He wanted to rule the galaxy, and finally get revenge on the Jedi for what they had done to the Sith-

-and there, again, he ran into the problem Anakin had pointed out, perhaps without noticing.

Palpatine didn’t have any clue whether his master Plagueis had actually been… a Sith.

He could have just been a Dark-sider who had taken the name. Palpatine had thought himself an intelligent man, a dangerous man, a man who would never be taken in by trickery… but he had never questioned the idea that Plagueis was an actual Sith.

A Sith of a line of Sith who had lasted a thousand years, each of them intending to pass on their hatred to the next Sith, until some future Sith would actually take their revenge.

And that did not sound very Dark Side now that Palpatine actually thought about it.

How was it possible that a line of Sith could last so many centuries without breaking, without betrayal?

It didn’t seem possible.

And yet… and yet the plan was still working. It would allow him to turn the Republic into a new Sith Empire.

...no, not a Sith Empire. Just an Empire, where he could rule and do whatever it was he wanted. Like…

...he actually had trouble with that bit.

He’d spent his entire life pretending to be a kindly man to gain power, and what would he do with it then? He’d literally just been trying to recruit his newest Sith Apprentice by telling him about how he’d murdered his own Master. Anakin had already killed Tyrannus on Palpatine’s orders!

How long would Palpatine last if he became Emperor, the Jedi slain, and Anakin his apprentice?

Two years? Maybe three? If he killed off Anakin’s wife and avoided Anakin realizing why, that would get him a bit more time.

Or.

He could step down, with nobody any the wiser. The war won, Sheev Palpatine relinquishing his power, rich and honoured and able to do whatever he wished with the remaining several decades he could expect from his life.

It would even give him more time to do the closest thing he had to a hobby… manipulating people.

And, more than anything, it would mean he was not following the rut that a mere jumped-up businessman had created for him, decades ago, with his fanciful tale of a thousand years of Sith all finally – conveniently – coming to their culmination just then, in Palpatine specifically.

Yes.

That was a much better plan.

#star wars #palpatine #anakin skywalker #reverse gaslighting

248 notes · View notes

jetii · 4 months ago

Text

Promises Made (pt. 1/3)

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 5,234 / 23,314

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, everyone is bad at feelings, this part is at least 50% bickering, smut in part 3

Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.

A/N: This is my longest work yet, so I decided to split it up into parts. But if you’re just here for the smut, don’t worry, the emotional edging is worth it! It’s my first time writing Crosshair so please let me know how I’m doing.🤞 Part two will be posted same time next week.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You pat Omega’s head, smiling warmly down at the young girl as she clings to you. It hurt to leave her again, but you were going to be gone for a few days at most, not weeks.

Still, her grip doesn’t let up, and her gaze is turned downwards. Things had slowly gone back to normal since you all returned to Pabu from Barton IV, with the exception of Omega’s reluctance to let any of you out of her sight.

That, and how Crosshair had been acting, which was to say he was avoiding you at all costs.

That was fine with you. The others may have forgiven him, but you weren't so ready to let bygones be bygones. You could tolerate being in the same room as him, but that was as far as you were willing to go. At least until you could figure out why you were still so upset.

And it was frustrating, not being able to put your finger on the cause of your irritation. Crosshair hadn't apologized, but you expected as much. He wasn't the type. You had already forgiven him for betraying the team and refusing to come back, but something was still keeping you from completely letting go.

It was unbecoming of a Jedi, you knew that, but you couldn't shake off your resentment.

It didn't help that his behavior was confusing. The day you got back, the others had gone about their usual routine. But not Crosshair. He was more quiet and standoffish than ever, but it didn't seem directed at anyone. It was almost like he was uncomfortable, and not just in general, but with being around you.

You knew he was spending most of his time by the water, though you never saw him when you went out there yourself. Just his rifle, sitting on the rocks.

The others insisted it was a good sign that he was taking the time to process everything. You didn't have the heart to tell them that you could still sense him through the Force whenever you went out, and his unrest was clear. The tremble of his hand, his uneven breaths, his mind racing, all of it.

The only other time you felt him was when you were alone in your room. You were trying to meditate when he walked past. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel him hesitating at the door, before he ultimately chose to move on.

The thought of confronting him made you anxious. You didn't know what would happen, and you didn't know if you wanted to find out.

For now, you just wanted to keep your distance and get your anger under control. Leaving for a few days to take care of your own problems will give you the space you need, and hopefully, things will go back to normal once you get back.

"Omega?" you ask, trying to get her attention. She finally looks up at you, and you see the concern in her eyes. Your heart aches, and you kneel down, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I know,” she finally whispers.

She doesn't want you to leave. But you were.

The mission would only take a day or two, and then you'd be back. One of your old contacts had called in, saying that she had some intel you needed. You didn't have the full story, but that wasn't going to stop you from dropping everything to answer. You'd been waiting over a year for a call like this, and you needed to see it through on your own.

So you kneel, meeting Omega eye to eye. You hold out your little finger, and she sighs, unmoving. You wiggle it, drawing a soft laugh from the girl.

You’d taught her how to pinky swear not long after you rejoined the Batch. It was a sort of tradition between you and your Master, and him and his, and so on.

The promise was more sacred than a verbal one to you, even if it was more juvenile than others. It meant that the person who sealed the deal was obligated to fulfill their promise, or face a lifetime of bad luck.

Of course, you never believed that part, but you liked the sentiment behind the gesture.

"I promise I'll be back," you whisper, "don't finish Spaceworld without me, okay?"

"Okay," Omega mumbles, a weak smile on her lips. She takes your pinky with hers, and the two of you shake. "You promise you'll be safe?"

"Always," you tell her, low and serious.

Hunter watches the exchange, nodding his approval. He doesn't understand the point of the ritual, but he knows enough to know that Omega feels better. And that you'd keep your word.

Your eyes meet his and he nods, silently telling you to hurry and get going. You straighten and turn toward the Marauder, your bag slung over your shoulder, and start off.

Before you can step foot on the ramp, a voice stops you in your tracks, and your blood runs cold.

“You’re leaving?”

Crosshair steps out from under the shadow of the archway behind you, and you spin around. His eyes narrow when you face him, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. He stands stiff, as though waiting for a fight.

You're surprised by his presence, surprised he's even talking to you, but your expression doesn't betray the shock. Your brow furrows as you regard him, trying to figure out his angle.

“I’m meeting up with a contact for a mission. I won't be gone long. Two days, maybe less, if everything goes according to plan."

You don't want to explain further, and your tone leaves no room for argument. But Crosshair has never been one to listen to what you want.

He takes a step forward, his eyes flitting over to Hunter for a brief moment, before looking at you again.

"Who's going with you?"

You frown. "What does it matter?"

"Who's going with you?" he repeats the question, slower, a hint of anger lacing his words.

You're silent for a moment, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. You didn't want to tell him, but if he wasn't going to give up, it might just be easier.

"No one," you answer, the words spilling out. "Just me."

The second the words leave your lips, you know you've said the wrong thing. Crosshair's expression morphs into one of fury, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.

"You’re letting her go alone?” he asks, turning toward Hunter with an accusatory look. You bristle at the remark, the need to defend yourself growing stronger.

Hunter sighs, running a hand through his hair. He glances at you, and you stare back. You were determined to handle this alone, and while Hunter didn't like it, he understood. So you'd made a deal, the same one you made with Omega, that you'd return quickly and come back alive.

He gives a subtle nod, and you return it.

“I’m not ‘letting her’ do anything. She's an adult, she can do whatever she wants," he answers, crossing his arms. Crosshair's head snaps toward him, his mouth open, but Hunter cuts him off, "Besides, she said she could handle it, and I believe her."

Hunter's words should have made you happy, should have filled you with a sense of pride, but instead all you feel is dread.

If Crosshair had looked angry before, he was downright furious now. His expression morphs from shock to frustration, and his glare shifts from Hunter to you.

You're taken aback by the change. Crosshair had never looked at you like that, not even when he left the squad and you behind.

The look is gone before you can question it, replaced by a steely resolve. He stalks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he climbs the ramp of the ship.

He doesn't say anything else, doesn't even spare a glance in your direction, and you stare after him, mouth agape, until you realize what he's doing.

"Absolutely not," you snarl, stomping up the ramp behind him. You move to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "You are not coming with me. I don't want or need your help."

Crosshair ignores your protests, dropping into the copilot's seat. He begins going over the controls, his brow furrowed.

"I don't remember inviting you," you snap. "Get out."

"Don't you mean thank you?" He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't even spare a glance, as he answers.

"I will thank you when you leave," you seethe. You take a step forward, reaching for his shoulder again. You want him out, and if you have to drag him off the ship, you will.

But he's quicker than you, spinning around to catch your wrist. His hand trembles slightly as he holds it, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he releases you.

"You're welcome."

He turns away again, focusing on the control panel, and you growl, frustrated. You can feel your anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you know if you don't calm down, it'll spill over.

"Cross," you start, slowly, trying to keep the venom from your voice, "I don't want you to come with me."

"And I don't want you to leave, but here we are."

He doesn't sound angry anymore, doesn't sound anything, really, but his tone still sets you on edge.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but--"

"Then don't go," he interrupts, his fingers gripping the armrests.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was pointless. He isn’t listening to a word you’re saying, and the longer you argue, the longer it will take for you to get off world. If you don’t get going soon, you’ll be late.

"Fine," you hiss, moving to the pilot's seat. "Do whatever you want."

"Good," he replies, his tone sharp. He leans back in the chair, his arms crossed.

You buckle in and begin the startup sequence, ignoring him. You try to focus on the task at hand, but his presence is distracting, and it takes you a minute longer than usual to finish prepping the ship.

He's still tense, and so are you, but the tension is different. It's uncomfortable, the atmosphere too quiet and too loud all at once. Neither of you speak, and the only sounds are those of the Marauder starting up and the distant chatter of the others outside.

You focus on getting the ship into the air, and Crosshair stares at the ceiling. When you've cleared the planet, you set the coordinates and the ship jumps into hyperspace.

The silence continues. You hate it. You hate how tense things have been, how awkward, how strained.

You don't like him, not anymore, and he's made it clear he doesn't like you, but you were stuck with each other now. You were on a mission, and you didn't have time to sit and stew in your emotions.

"I have a job to do," you say, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing major, just an exchange. Intel for credits. If you're going to come, then don't get in my way."

Crosshair says nothing, and you don't turn to look at him, but you hear him shift in his seat, the fabric rustling.

"Fine," he responds after some time, his voice quiet. "So what are they giving you?"

You glance over at him, startled by his sudden interest, and you're not sure how to respond. He stares back, his face blank, his expression carefully neutral. It's hard to read him, and while you can't sense any negative emotion from him, you don't trust it.

You fidget, wringing your hands in your lap. This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have told him. He was going to judge you for it, or worse, mock you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. What were you supposed to tell him? The truth?

No.

"Doesn't matter," you murmur, turning away from him.

You wish he'd let the conversation drop. You weren't ready for him to know. You weren't even sure if he'd understand.

"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be this worked up about it," he counters. His voice is quiet, but his tone is firm.

"I'm not worked up." You cross your arms, staring out the viewport.

"Sure you're not."

You can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it makes you angrier.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, okay. Just calm down."

"Stop telling me what to do," you growl, shooting a glare in his direction.

"Stop being so stubborn, and I will."

"Why do you even care, anyway?”

He flinches slightly, and you can see his expression soften as you hold his gaze, watching as he searches for a response. It takes him a second, and you observe in real time as the walls go back up, his face morphing into a neutral mask.

"I don't."

"Then stop acting like it," you say, rolling your eyes.

He tenses at your words, and he doesn't respond right away. You think he's finally dropped the subject, but he pushes further, his tone cold. "Why do you need it?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're my business,�� he says, quick and sharp.

Then, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. He's clearly as surprised by his response as you are, and the two of you stare at each other in silence, your heart pounding.

"Oh."

You're not sure what else to say. The two of you aren't friends, aren't anything, but the weight of his statement doesn't go unnoticed.

You can't figure out if he means it.

You're not sure what to think.

"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't finish. He looks away, clearing his throat.

"It's fine," you interrupt, not wanting to make things more awkward. The tension is back, and you hate it, but at least you've reached an understanding.

There's nothing between you, not anymore.

Crosshair's quiet, and you're grateful for the silence. You take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. You'd have time to unpack that later, but right now you had to focus on the mission. You could worry about him when this was over.

After a moment, he turns toward you, his gaze flitting over your face. He doesn't look mad, and his expression is almost pensive.

Finally, he sighs.

"You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You shake your head. "You’ll find out when I get it."

He stares at you for a long time, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he huffs, slumping back in his seat. His resignation is a relief, and you breathe a small sigh.

"I have to ask," you begin, eager to change the subject, "what was the point of that little display?"

He raises a brow, glancing over at you. "Display?"

"With Hunter," you elaborate, "back there. I assume it wasn't just to annoy me."

He smirks, the corner of his lips curling upward. He tilts his head, and you try not to think about how it's the first time he's looked at you that way since everything happened.

"I was mostly doing it to annoy you."

"Of course you were." You roll your eyes. You don't believe him, not entirely, but you didn't doubt that he wanted to get under your skin. It felt like that was all he'd done since the beginning, and it was getting tiresome.

"But," he begins, leaning back, "if I can't talk you out of doing this, the least I can do is make sure you have backup."

You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you blink several times. What were you supposed to say to that?

"That's... sweet, I guess?" You don't mean for it to come out as a question, but the surprise gets the best of you.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you're reminded of the old Crosshair.

The Crosshair who used to tease you, to rile you up, just because he knew it would make you laugh. The Crosshair who would sit with you while you studied, who would make you food when you were too tired to do it yourself. The one who loved his brothers fiercely, even if he was a pain in the ass. The one that you, despite everything, missed.

You didn't think he was capable of being like that anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong.

"Well," he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It’s my job to keep an eye on you."

You can't help but chuckle at his reasoning, though there's a hint of bitterness to the sound, and his scowl returns.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, come on," you reply, crossing your arms, still laughing. "It's a little funny."

"Is not," he argues, but there's no heat to it.

You snicker, shaking your head. It's not funny, but it's nice. Normal, even. It's the most normal conversation you've had in a long time, and the most normal Crosshair has acted, and it's almost like things are the way they were before.

"Whatever you say, dear."

The pet name slips out without a thought, and you regret it the second it does. You wince, looking over at him. You hope he doesn't take it the wrong way, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just scoffs, a small smile playing on his lips.

You relax in your chair, letting the tension slip from your body. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, how easy things used to be. It felt good, and you wished you could keep that feeling.

"So," you begin, "are you going to be a good boy while we're there, or am I going to have to watch my back?"

"I'm always a good boy," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You can't help but laugh, and his lips twitch upward, a hint of smugness coloring his features. It's an old joke, and it's ridiculous, but it feels good. You didn't think he had it in him, and hearing his sarcasm again was a welcome surprise.

"We both know that's not true."

"You'd be surprised." He stands, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowers them, he looks at you again, a faint smirk on his lips. "I can be very good, when I want to be.”

He brushes his fingers across your shoulder as he walks past, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help the heat that rises to your face, and you're thankful that he's turned away from you.

You're left in a daze, your mind racing. You didn't think he was capable of having a civil conversation with you, let alone flirting. And yet here you were, trying desperately not to think about the implications behind his words.

It reminded you of before, before everything had gone to shit. Back when he could make you laugh in just a few words and make you blush with even less. He’d tease and flirt and push all your buttons, and it drove you crazy.

And you loved it.

You thought maybe you loved him too, at some point.

But he had thrown all that away when he abandoned the team. He had tossed aside every moment of laughter and affection and friendship, and he'd never seemed to care. And maybe that's what hurt the most, knowing he'd so easily let go of whatever it was between the two of you.

You'd tried not to think about him, after he left. You'd thrown yourself into the missions, and you'd tried not to look back. The others had done the same, you thought, but when Crosshair came back into your lives, they had forgiven him.

So why was it so hard for you?

The answer was supposed to be easy. You’d been the one he’d tried to kill, after all. But you knew it wasn’t his fault, knew it was the chip. You wanted to forgive him, and in a way, you had, but it still hurt.

Maybe it was because he had hurt you, not physically, but in another way. A deeper way. He had left you. He had abandoned the team, and he had left you behind, and despite ample opportunities, he'd refused to come back.

Or maybe it was because, after all that, after he'd hurt you and the people you cared about, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

Maybe, deep down, you were worried that part of you still loved him.

Your head was spinning. You needed a drink, or a nap, or a distraction.

"Where are you going?" you call after him.

"To make sure Omega didn't sneak aboard," he calls back.

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. He'd never admit it, but he cared about her. He'd probably deny it to his dying breath, if asked, but you knew better. And as you watch him disappear down the hall, a strange feeling blooms in your chest.

It's warm, and light, and familiar.

And for a brief moment, things almost feel right again.

Crosshair is, for lack of a better word, insufferable. He doesn't listen to a word you say, doesn't follow your directions, and has a bad habit of doing the opposite of what you tell him to do.

He also has a knack for making you feel like an idiot. It was something you conveniently forgotten about during your time apart, and now, you were beginning to remember why you'd fought so much in the past.

And the worst part was, he wasn't even trying to piss you off.

He was just...himself.

"That's not how it's done," he sneers, leaning against the wall. His eyes are on your hands, watching you clean your blaster. You know this game, and you don't want to play. So you do the one thing that always seems to get under his skin.

You ignore him.

You pretend like you haven't heard him, and you continue with your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He sighs and huffs as you wipe around the trigger mechanism, he crosses his arms as you check the power cell, and you know he's getting antsy.

It isn't until you wet a swatch with solvent and push it through the barrel from front to back, and Crosshair makes a noise of disgust, that you snap.

"What?" you bark, your grip on the weapon tightening. You're not angry, not yet, but you can feel it creeping up on you.

“You’re going to damage the rifling,” he says, pushing off the wall. He reaches for the weapon, but you pull it out of his reach.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly." He rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to to end up with a misfire or a malfunction, and I don’t think either of us want that. Do you?"

You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. "No, but—"

"Then give me the damn blaster," he says, reaching out again.

You consider refusing, just to prove a point, but his tone has caught you off guard. He doesn't sound condescending, or mocking, or even annoyed.

He sounds worried.

So you hand it over, and he takes it, his fingers brushing against yours.

"Just let me do it, alright?" he asks, and the frustration in his voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

You nod, watching as he sits next to you, his attention on the weapon. His movements are confident, practiced, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers move as he cleans.

You watch as he sets the blaster aside, grabbing the canister of solvent and a rag. Crosshair's movements are quick and meticulous, and he doesn't miss a spot. What took you nearly twenty minutes to accomplish, he completes in five, and his technique is far more thorough than yours.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t blown your hand off yet," he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “If this is what the Jedi were teaching you, no wonder the Empire wiped them out."

Any good will you were feeling toward him disappears in an instant. You bristle, your anger returning, and you glare at him.

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," he teases, his lips twitching upwards.

You can't decide if his comment was meant to piss you off or annoy you, and you settle for a combination of the two. You're not sure why you expected anything else from him, but the joke hits a sore spot. The fact that he doesn't realize what he's said, that he doesn't understand what he's done, only makes it worse.

Crosshair's smile falls when you continue glaring despite the flush in your cheeks, and you can sense his frustration. He huffs, looking back down at the weapon in his hands.

He's quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft.

"Here," he says, holding the reassembled blaster out, its barrel glistening. It’s the cleanest it's been in months, though you won’t admit it out loud.

Crosshair had always taken great pride in the cleanliness and efficiency of his weapons, and seeing his handiwork in front of you reminds you of simpler times. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d passed out from exhaustion after a mission or gotten too distracted, only to find your weapons cleaned and ready to go the next morning.

It had irritated you, at first. You hated having your things touched without permission, but eventually, you got used to it. It was nice, knowing he cared enough about you to do such a thing. Though Crosshair always denied it when you tried to thank him. As if it would be anyone other than him.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and it’s genuine.

He looks at you, and there's a flash of something in his eyes, something softer than the usual indifference. But it's gone before you can decipher its meaning.

“Why do you still use that thing, anyway?" he asks. “It's a piece of junk. Don’t you have a lightsaber?”

You suck in a breath, his words cutting deep. Of course he would bring up the one thing you didn't want to talk about. You should have expected it. You weren't sure why it had never come up, but you should have known it would happen eventually.

He's staring at the blaster, and you know he didn't mean to hurt you, not this time, but the ache is there, nonetheless. The grief sinks in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, and your hands shake. You clench them into fists, hoping to hide the movement.

You've gone quiet for too long, and Crosshair knows he's hit a nerve. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes widen when he sees the look on your face.

You're pale, your expression pained. Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw set, and your shoulders are stiff. “No,” you say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

He frowns. He looks confused, and for a second, he almost looks worried. "What happened?"

“I lost it.”

“What?" His voice sounds incredulous, as if the concept is inconceivable. "When?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over this again, but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought. It hurts, talking about it, and a part of you wants to shut him out.

But another, bigger, part of you wants him to know. Maybe it's a test, of sorts. If he can't handle this, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then there's no way he'd be able to handle the rest.

“On Kamino," you say, and your voice shakes, despite your best efforts. You pause, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the memories come back, clear as day. "Around the same time I…”

You can’t continue, but the words are there, lingering in the air. The same time I lost you.

His mouth forms a silent 'oh', and the room falls silent. You look at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he does the same. You're not sure how much time passes, but it feels like hours.

He clears his throat, and the sound breaks the spell. You look up, and his eyes are on you, intense and dark. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the apology surprises you.

"Don't be." You shrug, but you can't shake the melancholy that's settled over the room.

"You should get a new one," he suggests.

You shake your head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Crosshair hums, and he turns away from you. He picks up the cleaning kit and places it back on the shelf. You watch him, wondering if that's the end of the conversation, and a part of you hopes it is.

But when he turns to face you again, his expression is pensive, and his tone is somber.

He sighs, and the weight of his words hit you, his voice quiet.

“You’re not the same, either."

You swallow thickly, unsure how to respond. You’ve had the same thought rolling around in your head for months, but to hear it spoken out loud, to hear it from him, suddenly makes it seem real.

Because he's right.

You aren't the same, not anymore. You hadn't been since the fall of the Order, since Crosshair left, since you'd lost everything. And you couldn't deny the changes that had been wrought within you, no matter how hard you tried.

"Yeah," you say, and the word is heavy on your tongue. “I guess not.”

You stare at each other, and a moment passes. It's an unspoken understanding, an admission, and neither of you can find the right words.

It's then that you realize that maybe he's changed, too.

And that, for whatever reason, makes you sad.

The silence drags on, and you're not sure if he's waiting for you to speak, or if he's waiting for something else. His eyes are searching, his mouth slightly parted, and he looks almost nervous.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and there's a pressure behind your eyes. You want to say something, but you can't think of anything. You're not sure if the urge is to comfort him, or comfort yourself.

You're grateful when you can feel the the hair on the back of your next prickle, a sign of something shifting in the Force. It's a distraction, a welcome one, and you take the opportunity to break eye contact. You stand to make your way to the cockpit, holstering your blaster as you go.

When you reach the door, you pause, glancing back. Crosshair is still standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted in your direction. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks almost sad.

You swallow thickly and force yourself to speak. “We should be there in a second."

“How do you—“

He’s interrupted by the subtle lurch of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, and his confused expression turns to one of exasperation.

You smile, just a little, and Crosshair scoffs.

"Show off," he mutters, following behind you.

#tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #roy writes

308 notes · View notes

nahoney22 · 3 months ago

Note

Hello happy today.

I just read all of your Rex x reader smut oneshots and damn it was sooooooo good,

so I would like to ask if you want to write a Rex x fem!reader with some smutty smut😉 where reader wears a long silky dress and Rex is head over heels for her when she wears it. reader can be a jedi or Senator you decide .

Hope you want to do it and if you don't want to thats totally fine.

Thank you if you do and if you don't thanks for the other storys with rex, ima go read the other ones now.

Bye.

Nightcap*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Captain Rex X SenatorFemale!Reader

word count: 1.9k

prompts: none

When Anakin assigns Rex to a new task, he didn’t expect he would be looking after a Senator. He also didn’t expect to fall in love with you either.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language, senate female reader who is wearing a long silky dress (you decide the colour), flirting, Rex gets jealous, minor alcohol consumption, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, friends to lovers, cunnilingus, heavily implied sex.

Sorry for the wait @msblacklupin , enjoy 🩵🌊

Captain Rex stood at attention as his General, Anakin, briefed him on his new assignment: To personally protect the newly appointed Galactic Senator. Rex’s jaw tightened at the task at first. Babysitting a politician wasn’t exactly what he signed up for. However, orders were orders, and he would see it through—no matter how tedious.

But when Rex first met you, the senator in question, his thoughts shifted unexpectedly. You weren’t the stuffy, self-absorbed type he had expected. No, you were something entirely different—warm, kind, and genuinely interested in the people around you. And beautiful. Rex found it hard to ignore just how beautiful you were, though he kept such thoughts to himself.

It was actually starting to annoy him.

Even when his brothers, Jesse and Fives to be precise, nudged and teased him about what he thought of you, he remained tight-lipped, refusing to indulge their curiosity.

As the days turned into weeks, Rex began to appreciate more than just your looks. You were smart, compassionate, and refreshingly authentic. You listened to the clones’ stories, asked about their lives, and treated them with respect.

The moment he knew you were special was when he came with you during a Senate meeting. He stood quietly by your side, witnessing as you passionately defended the clones’ right to continue serving. Another senator had suggested phasing them out, referring to them as mere tools of war. But you weren’t having it.

“Tools?” you’d snapped, voice firm and unwavering. “These men are individuals with thoughts, feelings, and rights. If you can’t see that, then you don’t deserve to represent them—or anyone.”

His chest tightened with a swell of emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. You weren’t just defending clones; you were defending him. It was a level of care he wasn’t used to receiving, especially from someone in such power.

As the days passed, your bond with Rex deepened and it was safe to say the two of you were friends. But, he was also falling for you. Foolishly.

He didn’t realise it at first but when he found himself lingering a little longer during conversations, savouring the moments when you laughed or smiled, he knew he was in trouble.

At night, alone, he would tell himself it’s just a minor crush, something a lot of clones had on Jedi’s or Senator’s who respected them. But you were hard to ignore. Especially after the night of a Galactic Ball.

Assigned to escort you, and though he tried to remain focused on his duty, his breath caught in his throat when you stepped out in your gown. The floor-length, slinky dress shimmered like liquid silk, clinging to every curve. You were stunning in a way that nearly made him forget himself.

“You okay Cap?” You asked through the mirror as you slide your earrings in, noticing him watching you.

“Yes.” He clears his throat and also his gaze, “Never better Senator.”

As you made your rounds at the ball, engaging in tedious conversations with politicians and whoever else, Rex stood close by, vigilant. But beneath his stern exterior, he couldn’t help but feel the twinge of something more—a subtle possessiveness and jealousy when others gave you rather appreciative glances. He told himself it was just his job, but deep down, he knew it was something else entirely.

After hours of enduring the ball, you turned to Rex, your eyes pleading for an escape. “I’ve had enough of this,” you whispered. “Would you mind accompanying me back to my quarters? We could have a nightcap?”

Rex hesitated, torn between protocol and the unspoken pull you had on him. “I shouldn’t. I’m on duty.”

But your smile, soft and inviting, melted his resolve. “Just for a little while? I could use the company.”

You sink into the plush, teal couch in your quarters, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as the opulent surroundings offer a sharp contrast to the exhaustion etched in your posture. "Those grand balls can be a bit much for me," you murmur, kicking off your heels and letting them clatter to the floor.

Rex, ever observant, watches you with quiet appreciation. "They do seem... exhausting," he agrees. He strides over to the small bar, picking up a crystal decanter of Corellian whiskey. "Would you like a drink, Senator?"

You glance at him and nod gratefully. "Please. And pour one for yourself too, Captain. You've been on duty all evening; you deserve it."

He arches an eyebrow, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Rex pours two drinks, the amber liquid swirling in the glasses, before handing one to you. He takes a seat beside you, maintaining a respectful yet comfortable distance.

"You know," Rex begins, taking a sip and fixing you with his sharp gaze, "this life suits you. The grandeur, the politics, the elegance; it all fits you perfectly."

You chuckle softly, shaking your head as you take a sip. "It's ironic you say that. I come from very humble beginnings. My upbringing was far from grand or luxurious; my family scraped by, making ends meet wherever they could." Your gaze grows distant, lost in past memories. "Sometimes, I feel like I don't belong.”

Rex's brow furrows in concern, his focus entirely on you. "I never would have guessed," he says sincerely. "You carry yourself with such grace and strength. No one would ever suspect you came from anything less than this." He gestures to the elegant surroundings.

A small smile tugs at your lips, warmed by his compliment. "It's all just a facade, though. Half the time, I’m questioning if I’m doing the right thing. These politics, the decisions… There's always doubt, this fear that I'm not enough."

Your voice wavers slightly, and Rex instinctively shifts closer, closing some of the distance between you. His gaze is intense, his expression softening as he tries to reassure you. "You're more than enough," he says, his tone firm with conviction. "I've seen how you fight for what's right, how much you care about people—not just those in power, but everyone. That's rare, and it's exactly what this galaxy needs."

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, the world outside seems to fall away. The air between you thickens, charged with something more than just friendly concern. Reaching for your drinks at the same time, your hands brush as you both reach for the same glass. You laugh softly, trying to play it off. "Oops, my mistake."

But the brief touch sends a spark through you, one that's hard to ignore. Rex’s gaze lingers on you, his usual composure cracking slightly as he takes in the sight of you. Your dress has ridden up slightly as you crossed your legs, revealing more of your thigh. His eyes flick downward, betraying his deeper interest.

Flirting bubbles up naturally, your voice taking on a teasing lilt. "Captain, are you sure you're not getting distracted? I noticed the way you were watching me earlier, in the mirror while I was getting ready."

Rex flushes slightly but doesn't shy away. "You looked... incredible. It was hard not to watch." His voice grows more serious, almost reverent. "I admire you more than I can say. You're strong, intelligent, and beautiful. Desirable, even."

The word slips out before he can stop it, and you raise an eyebrow, amused. "Desirable, huh?" you echo, leaning in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Just how desirable do you think I am?"

Rex swallows, clearly conflicted, but the attraction between you both is undeniable. His resolve falters as you reach out, taking his hand and guiding it to the silky fabric of your dress. "Go on," you murmur, your tone a mix of challenge and invitation. "You can touch."

His hand rests on your waist, fingers splayed over the smooth fabric as he pulls you closer. The tension finally snaps, and suddenly, his lips are on yours, the kiss fierce and hungry. There’s a moment of hesitation as he pulls back, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I'm breaking so many protocols right now," he mutters, breathless.

You smile, cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips. "So am I, Captain. But it’s worth it, don’t you think?"

That’s all the encouragement Rex needs. He leans back in, his mouth crashing onto yours with a desperation that’s been building for weeks. The kiss is intense, a mixture of longing and release, his hands roaming your body as yours eagerly strip away his uniform. Piece by piece, his armor falls away until he's left in just his blacks.

You giggle as you’re pulled onto his lap, your dress pooling around you. His lips move from your mouth down to your neck, trailing heated and precise kisses along your skin, each one sending shivers down your spine.

“Rex…” you breathe out, your voice filled with need as your fingers graze over his blond buzzed hair.

He groans your name in response, the sound vibrating against your collarbone as he moves lower. Before you can process what’s happening, he gently eases himself down onto the floor. His large hands part your legs, and with a smoldering look, he hooks his fingers under your dress, pushing it higher until it’s bunched around your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire as he kneels between your legs, the sight of you as he tucked your dampened panties to the side, exposed infront of him.

He lowers his head, his mouth descending onto your most sensitive spot. The sensation is electric—his tongue and lips working against your folds with a mix of precision and passion that makes your back arch. You moan his name, your fingers landing on the back of his head as you guide him all the while he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. “Mmm, you taste wonderful.”

Rex holds nothing back, lost in the taste of you, the sound of your pleasure driving him to give more. He alternates between soft licks and firm pressure, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants you. The world around you blurs, the worries of your job fading as the only thing grounding you was the steady rhythm of his mouth and the overwhelming pleasure building inside you.

Your hips start to buck involuntarily, desperate for more as the tension coils tighter. “Rex, I’m so close,” you gasp out, your voice shaking as your body begins to tremble.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t think he would be able to.

Doubling down on his efforts as his brown eyes bore into yours, his tongue flicks in just the right way that sends you spiralling over the edge. Your climax crashes through you, your legs clamping around his head as you cry out in ecstasy. “F-Fuck!” You cry, body shaking.

Rex keeps going until he’s wrung every last tremor from you, only pulling back when you’re completely spent. He looks up at you, his lips slick, eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. His hands gently stroke your thighs as you catch your breath, still trembling from the intensity.

When you finally regain your composure, you pull him up, capturing his mouth in a deep, languid kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. “I want more,” you whisper against his mouth, your tone both needy and commanding.

Rex grins, his voice low and full of promise. “Then I’ll give you everything I’ve got, Senator.”

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @lulalovez @whore4rex x @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone e @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter r @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

#rex x reader #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #Rex x you #the bad batch #clone wars #the clone wars #clone trooper one shot #nahoney22 writes #tbb #bad batch

231 notes · View notes

thelibrarian1895 · 3 months ago

Text

Mandalorians hate Jedi because...

"the Jedi are child stealers" NO

And again I say NO. I saw someone claim this and it absolutely infuriated me.

First point, THE JEDI ARE NOT CHILD STEALERS. That accusation is sithspit anti jedi propaganda. If a parent or guardian told the Jedi no, they didn't want their kid to be a Jedi, the Jedi respected that. They would, however, remove children from danger. But would you call a social worker who took children from environments where they were being molested, starved, beaten, or worse, a child stealer? No? Then don't call the Jedi child stealers for the same actions.

Second point, the average Mandalorian didn't really know or care too much about Jedi. In all honestly, most Mandalorians, like the rest of the galaxy, had no real idea about the difference between Jedi or other force sects like the nightsisters or general darksiders or even the sith except perhaps the color of their lightsabers. Some Mandalorians, like our beloved Din Djarin, knew nothing at all about Jedi and only cared when in became relevant and then did as much research as possible regarding the Jedi. Others, like Jango Fett, had very personal interactions with Jedi and formed their opinions of the Jedi as a whole based on those interactions with no further reason or desire to look further into the Jedi.

Third point, for Mandalorians who studied history or listened to old stories, they knew why the Mandalorians disliked the Jedi and it was for a very simple reason that they liked to avoid actively admitting. That reason? The Jedi kicked the shebs of the Mandalorian armies.

Twice.

Quite possibly there was another point when the Jedi suppressed the Mandalorian empire but there were two times for certain. Granted, the republic played a large part and the Jedi definitely didn't all interfere in one of those two conflicts, and actually actively avoided one of those two conflicts except in a few cases, and there were definitely some terrible things done, but the fact remains that when the Mandalorian empire attempted to expand and basically take over the galaxy, the Jedi were key to stopping this. And no, the Mandalorian empire was not a good thing. But more importantly, if you thought your ancestors or your cultures' armies were in the right and they were beaten, would you like the descendants of those who beat your side?

Fourth point, would you like the side that beat your side if they refused to give you a proper rematch? The Mandalorians who know anything about Jedi know that Jedi have access to all this power, plus generally have a super cool plasma sword, but the Jedi won't fight or they'll de-escalate or generally indulge in pacifistic behavior and we all know how Mandalorians feel about presumed pacifists, right? A Mandalorian denied a fight is often a frustrated Mandalorian. A Mandalorian who sees someone who has all this strength and power often doesn't understand why that person doesn't use that power, doesn't take revenge or slaughter their enemies or a million other things that they would do with such power. So those that don't understand choose to dislike. Why won't the Jedi fight them?! (please imagine the sentence immediately previous spoken in an extremely whiney tone of voice)

Fifth point, the Mandalorians frequently throughout history worked with the Sith or were on the Sith side of conflicts because of a lack of knowledge about force sects meant the Mandalorians didn't generally realize how absolutely stupid it is to side with the Sith but beyond that the Mandalorians often learned about the Jedi from the Sith. So the Mandalorians got stories from the Sith about the Jedi being weak and cold and blah, blah, blah stupid sith propaganda that I don't want to perpetuate. And those Mandalorians would then think themselves Jedi experts, because hadn't they learned about the Jedi from another Jedi? Granted, a dark Jedi but still a Jedi, right? So they'd tell other Mandalorians the propaganda and so the Mandalorians had that Sith skewed idea of the Jedi perpetuated throughout their history.

So the Mandalorians have their own reasons for not like the Jedi, which have NOTHING to do with child stealing, just as the Jedi have plenty of reasons to want to avoid the Mandalorians. Personally though I'm going to blame a lot of those reasons on both sides on the Sith and be grumpy about the Sith and the effectiveness of their propaganda.

And finally, I'm pretty sure at least a tiny bit of the animosity between Mandalorians and Jedi arose from the Mandalorians being jealous that the Jedi had lightsabers and they didn't. To be fair, I'm a little jealous too. Lightsabers are cool.

236 notes · View notes

vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

Text

I'd Follow You Across The Galaxy

Y/N Skywalker loved her husband. She loved him through everything. Even when he turned to the dark side, she still loved him. But she couldn't be with him. She had her babies to protect. Her husband would follow her across the galaxy.

A collection of moments from Y/N and Anakin's relationship, recounted as she travels across the galaxy.

4.1K

Travelling alone through the universe, Y/N Skywalker had a lot of time to think. She thought about her name, how, even though she was still married, she'd have to change it to her maiden name.

She thought of the friends she hadn't seen since the end of the war, the children she had sent off to keep safe, the husband who had died in front of her.

The Clone Wars were something Y/N thought about often. She and her husband had fought side by side. It was when they fell in love. Her favourite thing to think about was when they first met.

“Princess Y/N from Idobaar has been kidnapped yet again,” Obi-Wan said to his Padawan learner. “We are to find her and bring her back to Coruscant. That way the Jedi Council can keep an eye on her,” he said.

Anakin Skywalker had heard of Princess Y/N from Idobaar before. He had heard stories of her beauty, but also of her recklessness. If she was kidnapped, it wasn’t because guards weren’t doing their jobs, but because she had wandered away and gotten herself into trouble.

Obi-Wan and Anakin only took a small ship to rescue the princess. Something that would allow them to move almost undetected through the stars. They found the vessel she was being kept on and made their way onboard.

The Jedi had to remain undetected for the safety of the princess. With the help of R2, they snuck their way through the ship, easily locating the cell Princess Y/N was supposed to be kept in. The key word there being ‘supposed’. It was empty, the door already open. A destroyed droid was beside the door, its blaster missing.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Obi-Wan as he looked at the droid.

Blasts from further down the hall. The Jedi unsheathed their lightsabers and took off towards the sounds.

It was a blood bath. Or, it would have been if droids could bleed. Princess Y/N of Idobaar was ducking into alcoves, emerging only to shoot at droids. As Obi-Wan and Anakin rushed towards her, a droid had a lucky shot. The princess cried out as it hit her arm and ducked behind the alcove.

The two Jedi took care of the droid’s Y/N had yet to destroy. Once they were finished with, Anakin put his lightsaber away and walked towards the Princess. “Princess Y/N?” He asked, offering her his hand.

“Who in the world are you?” She asked, accepting the help and getting to her feet. Her hand held her injured arm, keeping it close to her body.

Anakin took only seconds to observe it. There was no medical droid onboard their small ship; they would need to get her to an infirmary as soon as they got back to Coruscant. “I am Anakin Skywalker—”

“A Jedi?” Asked Y/N interrupting him.

More droids were approaching, that was easy to tell from the readily approaching footsteps. The Jedi wasted no time in moving Y/N along, running her back towards their ship. There was no point them moving under the cover of stealth, not when Y/N had already caused so much commotion.

As they ran she blasted, using her uninjured arm to shoot behind her. Obi-Wan and Anakin did their bit in cutting down droids and protecting the princess. They got her back onto their ship with no more injury and flew her back to Coruscant.

Of course, they were followed. Little fighter ships followed them, but Anakin was quick to take care of it. It was his flying skills that caught Y/N’s eye first, he would always say after this.

"Anything on the scanner?" Y/N asked her ship. It really was an incredible piece of engineering, a vehicle with a personality of it's own. Ship made a noise, something only Y/N could decipher.

Nothing. No Imperial Star Destroyers behind her.

"How about we stop at the nearest planet and get some rations?"

Ship made another noise.

"If you think you can hold out that long before we have to refuel," she replied, patting her steering mechanism.

Before Y/N met her husband, she couldn't fly a ship. He was the reason she learnt.

“So, I’m to be kept on Coruscant as a prisoner?” Y/N yelled, staring at Mace Windu.

The Jedi Master sent her an unimpressed look. He had better things to do than look after a spoiled princess. “Your parents have requested that you be kept here under the watchful eye of the Jedi,” he replied, clearly fed up with her already. Y/N seemed to have that affect on people.

Anakin watched from a distance as Mace Windu got more and more annoyed with her. Never angry, though. He was a Jedi Master, after all. “We have assigned Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan to protect you,” Anakin heard him say.

“You mean the guys that saved me?!” Y/N suddenly shrieked. But then her expression changed. She thought about it for only a few seconds before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

Looking past Y/N, Mace Windu summoned Anakin forward. The Padawan walked towards Y/N and bowed. "Princess," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "It is good to see you again."

Y/N just gave the Jedi a look. She grinned, turned on her heel and walked away. Anakin followed her silently, his hands clasped behind his back. “So, Padawan learner, where is your master?” She asked him as they stepped into the elevator.

“The Jedi council has sent him on a mission,” he answered. “I will be your protector.”

Protector, Anakin liked the sound of that. He would be the one to protect Princess Y/N of Idobaar.

"I don't need a protector," she spat back as the elevator arrived at her new room. The room Y/N didn't want. "I shouldn't even be here on Coruscant!"

All Anakin could do was watch as she stormed into her room and pulled the door shut behind her.

Anakin looked around the foyer. It was where all of Y/N things had been placed, her possessions from Idobaar brought over to make her feel more at home and comfortable. One bag was open and full of dresses. Funny, Anakin couldn't imagine Y/N in a dress.

The first time he'd met Y/N, she'd been wearing a shirt and trousers, a holster strapped to her leg. Her outfit now was much the same, just without the holster.

Anakin looked to her room. Being a Jedi he could feel her in there, except he couldn't. He ran at the door, throwing it open as he went. If Anakin had lost her already, he'd never hear the end of it.

Princess Y/N of Idobaar was nowhere to be seen. Her bed had been stripped, her sheets tied to the bed post and hanging out of the open windows. Running over, Anakin's eyes followed the sheets to the roof of the slightly smaller building just below them.

Throwing his head back, Anakin let out a groan and jumped out of the window after her.

Y/N had her arms out, balancing her way across the roof. Her steps were slow, steady as she concentrated on staying up there.

There was a noise overhead, but Y/N wasn't concentrating on that. She had hours before her Jedi protector noticed she was gone.

But then he landed in front of her. Y/N stumbled back as he did so, but the Jedi was quick to grab a hold of her. "You really haven't spent a lot of time around Jedi, have you?" Asked Anakin as he kept her upright on the roof.

"So what if I haven't?" She glared up at him, but Anakin didn't release his hold. Y/N softened her expression. "Okay, fine. I don't want to be stuck here on Coruscant until my parents want me home. I just want some freedom before I'm trapped," she said.

What happened the last time she got some freedom? She got herself kidnapped.

And then, Anakin had a plan. "What if I took you flying?"

"Flying?"

Anakin nodded his head.

"What, so just outside of the planet?" It would take maybe five minutes at most.

Anakin just gave her a look.

***

Y/N loved flying. When she was younger and her parents took her on diplomatic trips, her favourite part was travelling there. Y/N sat in the cockpit, watching as Anakin flew the ship. He made it look so easy.

"I've never flown a ship before," Y/N confessed as she watched him.

A grin covered Anakin's face as he began to show off, manoeuvring around other ships. When he got to a wide open space, Anakin stopped the ship and pushed his chair back. "Want to give it a try?"

Y/N sat.

Where did she sit? Why, on Anakin's lap, of course. He helped her to fly it, taking things nice and slow. Anakin had her doing his manoeuvres from before, just at a much slower pace.

He let her drive until they were coming in for a landing. That was when Anakin had to take over once again. Once they were back on Coruscant, Y/N turned towards him. "Nice lesson, Jedi," she said with a giggle. "Maybe we can do this again while I'm stuck here."

Anakin stood from his seat. He followed behind Y/N as she left the ship. "Will you stay on Coruscant now, your highness?" He asked her as he held the door open.

"I'll think about it," she answered, stepping into the elevator.

That was a large number of years ago. So much had changed since then. When Y/N thought about things like that, about how things were all those years ago, it hurt.

It hurt being alone, drifting through the universe. It hurt not having a co pilot to keep her company. Ship was the only friend she had now that her husband was dead.

Y/N checked the coordinates. "Uh, Ship? Why are we heading to Tatooine?"

This time, when Ship made his noises, Y/N couldn't figure them out. Tatooine was fast approaching, but Ship wasn't slowing down. "Give me control!" Y/N cried, sitting back in her seat. "Ship! We're gonna crash!"

And crash they did. When Ship hit the sand, Y/N went flying forward, through the windshield and out into the desert.

Stranded.

They were stranded. Y/N laid in the sand. The Tatooine sun beat down on her, frying her. But she couldn't feel it - she was out cold.

***

Y/N woke up with a panicked start. She had been attacked, hadn't she? There was no way Ship would have just crashed other wise. She looked around at where she was, at the person in the corner of the cave. "Oh my God," she whispered, pushing herself to a sitting position.

It was somebody she had not seen for a great many years, somebody she'd grown to care for like a friend. She'd grown to miss him over the last ten years, too. "Obi-Wan?"

The last time Y/N had seen the man, he hadn't looked quite so haggard. The last time she had seen him, he had saved her and her babies from the clutches of Darth Vader

"That is a name I have not heard for many years," answered Kenobi as he stood up. "Now, what are you doing here on Tatooine, your highness?"

Y/N shook her head from side to side. "I don't know. Ship and I have been drifting for years, landing when we need to and avoiding Vader and his men at all costs. He suddenly landed me here with no word."

"Well, at any rate, I am glad to see you."

Obi-Wan gave her what rations he had and something to drink. "I'll see what I can do for Ship," he said, but Y/N knew what he was thinking. If Anakin was here, he'd be able to fix Ship in a heartbeat.

There was a question Y/N had been dying to ask Obi-Wan since the moment she woke up in his cave. One question she was was terrified of hearing the answer of.

"Obi-Wan, what happened to Luke and Leia? Have you seen them at all?"

Obi-Wan took his time answering her. Which filled her with anxiety.

"Let me show you," he finally said and Y/N let out a breath.

Kenobi took Y/N away from his cave, to a cliff. They sat themselves on the little ledge and Obi-Wan pulled out his Macrobinoculars. He looked first, making sure the little boy was still there, playing with his toys.

And then he passed the Macrobinoculars to Y/N. "Right there," he said and pointed.

When Y/N looked, she let out a gasp. There he was, the little boy she hadn't seen since the day he was born. Y/N watched him play in the Tatooine sand with his toy that looked a little bit like Ship. He was playing just outside of the moisture farm Y/N had visited only once before.

He was with good people, people that had taken care of Y/N in her hour of need.

"No, master Jedi, nobody is trying to kill me," said Y/N as she marched back to her room in Coruscant. It had been her home for a year now, with her Jedi protectors following her every move.

Y/N had spoken to her parents only a handful of times since they'd sent her to Coruscant. They were paranoid and wouldn't have her home any time soon. She missed her home, missed the palace and the friends she had there.

"Your highness, please," Obi-Wan began. "We just ask you be cautious. Our job is to protect you in any way we can; please don't make our job difficult."

Y/N let out a sigh. "Fine," she mumbled, sparing a glance at Anakin. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

The next few days passed somewhat normally for Y/N. When she left her room, Anakin was right behind her, close enough to touch. But he didn't; he kept his distance. That was the Jedi way.

But then, three days after Obi-Wan sat her down to speak with her, things started going wrong. The Jedi believed that, with Y/N safely in her room and with two guards outside of the door, they would be able to go to Jedi council meetings. Y/N, too, thought she was safe for that little while.

As Anakin returned to Y/N's room, he sensed something. Something that wasn't right. He ran into Y/N's room, lightsaber drawn. Y/N let out a gasp as Anakin cut off the hand of the person at the window. They were on the other side, hole cut in the glass for their gun.

"Holy Shit!" Y/N cried, turning to face the Jedi. "What happened?"

Anakin's breath was short as he stood with his lightsaber held above him, looking for the assailant. Before he could answer Y/N, he was jumping out of the window, chasing after the person trying to kill her. "Anakin!" Y/N cried as she leaned over the now broken window, watching as he disappeared between the speeders.

Okay, so maybe somebody was trying to kill her.

The Jedi council set Obi-Wan on the job of finding her assassin. While Obi-Wan worked, Anakin was tasked with looking after Y/N. "We should get off of Coruscant," he said as he sat on Y/N's bed.

"But where can we go?" She asked him. As much as she agreed, Y/N couldn't think of a single place safer for her. She couldn't go back to Idobaar, not when her parent's didn't think it was safe. But then she thought of somewhere. "My parent's are close to the Queen of Naboo. Maybe she'd host us," she suggested.

Anakin sat there, watching her as she packed her bags. She was beautiful, but Anakin had always known that. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her - it made his work as a Jedi very difficult.

The Padawan was hellbent on protecting her. He carried her things to their transport, said goodbye to Obi-Wan and took her to Naboo.

Senator Amidala was there to greet them when they arrived. She greeted Y/N with an embrace and gave Anakin a polite hello.

Naboo was where Y/N and Anakin camped out until Obi-Wan had caught her attempted killer. It was warm, sunny, peaceful. They sat by the lake, watching the sunset. They ate a decadent feast, but only once they'd taken the food up to the room Y/N had been placed in.

But, while they were on Naboo, Anakin was having nightmares. Y/N had never noticed before, but with only a thin wall between them, it was hard not to.

"What is it, Ani?" She asked one morning. When she woke up, she saw him outside of her room, on the veranda.

They were stood so close, but not yet close enough to touch.

"It's my mother," Anakin answered, staring at the water in front of them. "I keep dreaming of her, having nightmares."

His mother. Y/N knew the story, of how Qui-Gon Jinn had found him and his mother, slaves on Tatooine, how he had placed a bet with the man who owned him and had taken Anakin to learn the ways of the Jedi.

"What if we went to Tatooine?" Y/N suggested. "You have the power to free her, now."

Y/N said a farewell to the Queen of Naboo and they were on their way, flying to Tatooine. It was a peaceful trip, Y/N and Anakin sitting side by side, still close enough to touch but not quite. If she moved her hand even an inch, she would have been touching him. Would he be warm to the touch, his skin burning beneath her touch? Would his hands be rough and calloused from the years of Jedi training, or would his touch be soft?

When they landed on Tatooine, Y/N followed Anakin. He spoke to people in a tongue she couldn't understand, leaving Y/N to stand beside him, watching the interaction.

The thing that used to own Anakin directed them to a moisture farm. That was where the man who now owned Anakin's mother would be. And that meant that was where his mother would be.

They set off, heading out towards the moisture farm.

When they got there, they were met with the nicest people and the worst news. Shmi married the man who bought her and had been living with him and his son at the moisture farm. But then she was kidnapped by Tusken Raiders and nobody had seen her since.

"I have to free her," said Anakin as soon as they told him what had happened to his mother.

The suns were setting as Y/N looked at the Jedi she loved. No, not loved, not yet. "Ani," she whispered, reaching towards him. But, before her fingertips could meet his skin, she pulled away.

"Stay here, Y/N, please. They'll look after you here; they're good people," he said.

But Y/N wasn't quite ready to let him go yet. Not without a proper goodbye. Y/N grabbed the front of his Jedi robes and pulled him in. She pressed her lips to his and closed her eyes.

Taken by surprise, Anakin was stood there for just a moment before his body reacted. His hands settled on her waist and he closed his eyes, kissing her back. It was slow and sweet and tender. It was everything the two of them had been waiting for.

When Anakin pulled away, he reached up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. He didn't say anything as he left. Y/N watched him walk away. She waited until he was out of sight before returning to the moisture farm.

"What about Leia?" Asked Y/N as soon as she put down the Macrobinoculars. But then she shook her head. "It's better if I don't know."

It was one of Y/Ns greatest fears, Vader finding her and discovering the existence of their children.

"Why here?" Y/N asked as she passed back the Macrobinoculars back to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked at her. "I thought it best if he grew up with family," he answered.

She spared one last look at Luke through the Macrobinoculars, still playing with his toy ship.

While Obi-Wan helped her to get Ship repaired, she hid in the cave he called him. It was a quick ordeal, Obi-Wan using Jedi mind tricks to speed the process along. He wouldn't use them for anything else, but she was desperate to get away.

It was two weeks before Y/N was flying away on Ship once again. She patted the steering mechanism, happy to have her only friend back. "Get us out of here, Ship," she said.

Ship made a series of noises. "Thanks, pal," Y/N whispered as she looked at their surroundings, the familiarity of space.

Until she crashed on Tatooine, Y/N had managed to keep track of Vader and his fleet of ships. But now, she had no idea where they were. She couldn't tell if she was flying towards them or away from them.

Vader. She remembered the day she met him. But that wasn't a story for right now. So, she thought about Anakin, about the first time he told her he loved her.

Obi-Wan was in danger. Who better to save him than his padowan learner? But Anakin didn't think so.

He had a princess to protect, and he was going to protect her with his life. Besides, they were on Tatooine and Obi-Wan was on Geonosis.

Ever since Y/N had first come to Coruscant, Obi-Wan had been kind to her. He'd protected her with his life, and it was about time she did the same.

So, she thanked Cliegg, Owen and Beru. Whether Anakin was following her or not, she marched over to their ship. "You shouldn't have taught me how to fly," she mumbled when Anakin walked onto the ship behind her, the door shutting after him.

Anakin grabbed onto a chair as Y/N flew the ship. She wasn't very good - there was a reason her future vessel was going to be something that could practically fly itself.

He took over, taking control of the ship from her. "You're not gonna turn us around, are you?" She asked, giving him the pilots seat.

Anakin shook his head. "As long as you promise to let me take the lead, we'll go save Obi-Wan. Just, stay behind me and stay out of trouble," he said. Y/N nodded, reaching for his lightsaber. But Anakin had the force - he could sense it as she reached. "No!" He called and Y/N quickly withdrew her hand.

It wasn't long beside they arrived on Geonosis. Anakin tried to be stealthy, but that wasn't Y/N's specialty. She took down the first droid she came to, stole its blaster and went charging in, head first.

Anakin couldn't stop the small grin crossing his face as he followed her. His lightsaber was drawn as he fought of droids, Y/N continuing to push forward.

And then she found herself on the droid assembly line. Jumping over and around parts, taking out droids as they were being built. It shouldn't have been fun, but it was. And Anakin could tell. He couldn't help but being distracted as she punched a droid, knocking off the head that hadn't yet been properly attached.

But then they got themselves captured. Anakins lightsaber was knocked out of his hand and several finished droids surrounded Y/N. They were well and truly screwed, blasters pushed against their backs as they were forced to walk forward.

Their hands were chained together and they were placed on a chariot. If they weren't about to die, it would have been both magnificent and romantic. But they were, almost quite literally, being marched to their deaths.

"I love you," he said before they were paraded out in front of the crowed. "I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

Y/N tried to step closer. She looked up at him as she leaned towards him. As she did, Anakin dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers. It was slow, gentle, and so full of love. His lips slotted against hers oh so perfectly, soft and pillowy.

Intoxicating. He was intoxicating. They were about to die, and Y/N couldn't think of a better way to go.

"I'd do anything for you," whispered Anakin as they were paraded around. "I'd follow you across the galaxy," he said.

Y/N leaned up to kiss him once more. "If I'm travelling across the galaxy, you'll be right there beside me."

It was hard to keep track of where Darth Vader could have been, Y/N realised as the great, large ship appeared in front of them. It was much bigger than her own, its tractor beam easily pulling them in.

He had found her.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fluff #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars fluff #star wars smut #darth vader #darth vader imagine #darth vader x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader x you #anakin skywalker x you

911 notes · View notes

amarmoria · 3 months ago

Text

Nepenthe Ⅴ

Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Synopsis: Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: thank you guys for your support, like for real, please like, comment or reblog so I'll know if u want me to continue the story!

The frown plastered on your face since earlier hasn't dissipated even a bit. Your thoughts were loud, and proud, and noisy and everything. Everything was in disarray, and by everything, meaning you.

"You're scared of me?"

You shiver, lightly slapping your cheek.

"Did you like it?"

No you didn't, why would he assume that?

"Where. Were. You."

Where were you.

Saying you were scared was an understatement, you were terrified, you didn't move until he let you go, and even then, you stood still, surprised, shocked, flustered, maybe even all three.

You touch your stomach, just where he had his sculpted arms around, you still feel him there, his breath tickling your neck, the small opening of his mask opting the hot exhale straight to your nape.

Never in your wildest dreams, never ever, thought that thing could even happen, never. You always imagined what it would be like to get close to him, your master, but not that kind of close, you admit you liked it, the hugging grinding part, but not what you felt all throughout, yes you were terrified, but would it be so bad to enjoy the one little attention he gave you?

Was he like this with Mae too? No wonder she's so uptight and strict. There's a pang on your chest, maybe he is, maybe that's why he always calls Mae privately to 'talk', you hate her, but you also don't, you like Mae, despite being a little younger than her, you always cooked meals for them when they get home from training, training you wanted to do with them him.

Were you supposed to hate yourself for that? You used to be so good, great, in his eyes, you thought, did the coming of Mae change that?

Your thoughts were stolen away when you heard the door slamming open, you quickly stood up and expected Qimir to rush in and tell you to retrieve another plant for the master when you were met by someone you'd rather choke yourself than face him again.

"Oh? It's you"

You stare at him, unable to produce any sound.

"J-jedi," you pause as you choke out his title, you hear him chuckle and place a pouch of coins on the counter.

"So this.. is yours?"

He gestured around him.

"No!" you quietly gasp as your reply came out rushed and guilty. You pray he leaves sooner or he might notice some things scattering around that aren't supposed to be in an apothecary, and it should be just before Qimir comes back and sees you talking to a jedi, not just any jedi, but the jedi the master now knows the name and he might tell on you and you're going to get reprimanded and kicked out.

"Just doing a favor for, for a friend," you gulped and looked down at your fiddling fingers, you were now just behind the counter, trying to hide the scrolls that were peeking out.

"Mhm, is that the dying friend you mentioned not long ago?"

"Uh, no, yes! I mean, a mutual friend of, of ours.." you meekly glance towards the door then to the Jedi in front of you.

"You're very funny miss..?" Your mouth slacks open slightly, what do you say? Tou glance behind him once again, the door remaining closed, a small relief compared to the problem in front of you.

"W-what do you need?" You shoot him a small, strangled smile, you see him open his mouth but closes it when nothing comes out, he looked like he was contemplating on asking you for your name again, but brushes it off.

He pulls out a short list and hands it to you. Your eyebrows furrow as you scan the paper, you are familiar with most of the items listed, but not the ones written in some unknown language, your sure you had them here, maybe, if only you could read it.

"Problem?"

"N-nothing I couldn't handle, but uh, there's something—"

"Bee I—!"

You froze as Qimir enters the shop with his usual mood, his voice falters a bit at the end as you try to make yourself smaller, or just simply wanting the ground to swallow you.

He was quiet, very weird for him, and unnerving for you, what was he thinking? What was going on around his mind right now? You're thoroughly busted, there's no way out anymore, it's not that you don't trust him, it's just that he himself wouldn't want to get in trouble with the master, so even if he wouldn't want to snitch on you, he still needed to report everything back to him.

After a while he spoke.

"Oh, uh.. costumer?"

You nod slowly, not daring to turn your face to the men. But you did, you did not want to look guilty to the both of them, so you sucked your breath and quickly jogged in front of Qimir with the Jedi behind you.

"He wanted these.."

You held out the paper to him, but his eyes never left the man behind you, he looked far from the Qimir just moments ago, and just as Qimir reached out for the list on your hand, the Jedi quickly strode his way behind you and latched his hand on the paper.

In any other circumstance you would've been a giggling teenage girl stuck between two tall men, but you weren't, you swore you thought they could almost hear how your heart was beating out of your chest.

Your eyes widen as Qimir instinctively took a step close to you, your face now lightly touching his dark robes. You were clutching the paper with all your might, trying your best to avoid ripping it, but it was almost impossible not to, not with the Jedi and Qimir playing a small tug-of-war on the either side of the paper, you started to see a small tear in the middle, in which you quickly held on to it.

"Bee?" The Jedi behind you finally says after a log, excruciating silence. You don't hear Qimir's reply, which you shouldn't, your master specifically told you not to talk to strangers other than each other, meaning only him, Qimir, Mae and you, should be the only ones interacting, anyone outside that circle is considered suspicious.

"You know him?" You didn't even realize he was asking you when he held your hip, slightly bumping into Qimir whose jaw clenches as his fist flexes close.

"Uh—"

"Owner," he simply states, the Jedi behind you shifts on his foot, you don't process what he just said, instead focused on worrying what happens to you now, now that you have nowhere to turn to, what would your master do when he discovers that you conversed with the same Jedi once again?

Though only the two men noticed the underlying implication in Qimir's answer. You shivered slightly when the cold draft of Olega welcomes itself inside the shop, tou weren't wearing that many layers at all, since you were mostly staying behind the counter, where the heaters were.

The Jedi noticed this, quickly letting go of the list and removing his light colored robe, you were about to decline when you see Qimir removing his too, staring daggers at the man opposite to him, not caring if he was Jedi, the list long forgotten on the floor.

You frowned and bent down, picking it up, you were about to stand up when you felt the weight of a ton being thrown on your shoulders and on your head, no literally.

You first noticed Qimir's, the usual black robe on your shoulders, then the Jedi's white robe on your head, despite the robes looking fitted on the two, the garments remained big and droopy over you, making you look like a hooded smuggler with too much robes to waste.

"Uh—"

"Ah, I see you’re sharing your overly expensive robe with such enthusiasm, Jedi. Well look at you, trying to play the knight and shining armour! How charming!" You gulped nervously, was he trying to get you guys killed?

You look at Qimir with pleading eyes, please don't, you thought, hoping he would hear you, but you knew in the back of your mind he didn't, he wasn't force sensitive, and even if he was, he's not as powerful as your master who can read minds.

“Indeed, I believe warmth is more valuable than appearances. I’d rather be practical than boastful.”

“Ah, practical, you say? Well, I’d rather be practical and warm than trying to impress with style. But then again, you Jedi do have a flair for theatrics!”

"Qimir—"

"Really? Is that how you see us huh, Qimir?" You still when you realize what you've let slip, the shiver creeping up your spine like a snake when he says Qimir's name.

"Sor—"

"Why not? Are you not used to people who don't bow on their knees when they see you, Master Jedi?"

"Well, at least I don’t need to hide behind my apothecary counter to get attention. Perhaps it’s easier to judge others when you’re standing on a pedestal of your own making.”

It made Qimir snap back, he was an apothecary owner right now, not the master, not sith, he almost lost himself, almost lost control, all because of.

"We're sorry." You took a step forward, removing both of their robes from you. "We didn't mean to overstep, Master Jedi"

"I told you, call me Yor—"

"Yord there's-"

The man, jedi, clad in brown robes pauses in the doorway, glancing between Yord, you, and Qimir.

"Uh, There's movement at the borders, you're needed"

Yord doesn't answer, only looking over to you, then to Qimir, who was busy glaring holes into you. Yord looked like he didn't want to leave, or leave you at all, especially with him, but the rushed and panicked look on his co-worker's face forced him to glance at you with a pleading expression from his face, almost as if asking you to come with him.

You almost went with him. Almost.

You shook your head and focused your attention elsewhere, and by elsewhere I mean Qimir, you catch his solemnly vacant look, you never expected Qimir to have such a scary side of him, you never even thought he had one, usually he was a drunk, an unserious fellow, but his whole demeanor turned a whole 360.

The very first time. Or the very first time you saw him like that.

#qimir x padawan! reader #qimir x reader #qimir x y/n #qimir x you #qimir #the stranger x reader #the stranger #qimir the acolyte #the acolyte #stranger x reader #manny jacinto x reader #manny x reader #manny jacinto #acolyte x reader #acolyte #Nepenthe

267 notes · View notes

fen-luciel · 3 months ago

Text

Jealousy part 2

Part 1 here part 3 here

Warnings: age gap/toxic behavior

Vernestra-Padawan reader/jedi Qimir

I lied. Or rather, I had some ideas while I was writing, so instead of three parts, there will probably be four. Nothing is certain, but... you have been warned.

Leave a comment and share if you are enjoying the story.

I can't say exactly when things started to change. Maybe they were never normal from the beginning, but I was too distracted to see it, blinded by this lie that I childishly told myself.

The more comfortable I felt with Qimir, the worse his relationship with Vernestra became, to the point where in the naivety of my young age, I thought it was my fault, but in truth, I couldn't even see the problem.

I had learned to recognize my master's moods very early on. I understood before even talking to her if she was nervous because of some diplomatic mission or worse. Sometimes I was left to myself for entire days, i knew her missions were very important and that I would only slow her down, but all I could do was read and train with other padawans and read again and... do nothing.

So, while I daydreamed about the magnificent future missions with my master... I spent time with Qimir.

Of course, he was busy too, but I eagerly awaited his return each time. He would tell me what he did, who he met on his travels, the fights to the last breath, and, he was good at narrating them. He often came to see me in the library, where he would put on a silent show due to the librarian's constant admonishments, using books as pieces of the story and his lightsaber to represent himself. I laughed so much that my cheeks hurt, I used my hands to muffle the louder sounds, and Qimir seemed to love every moment of it. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't deliberately behave insanely on missions just to tell me about it when we would meet.

The months passed quickly. After about a year as a padawan, I began to distinguish between what I was good at and what I was terrible at. For example, I was great at controlling the Force, but terrible at using the sword. Not because I wasn't good from a technical standpoint, but more for a mental reason, the idea of hurting someone paralyzed me. I wanted to be a Jedi who protected the weak, but I had missed the part where, if you're protecting them, it's because someone is hurting them, someone who probably should be stopped even with the use of force.

Worse still, I was terrified of my master's weapon, the whip seemed so unpredictable to control, yet she used it with deadly precision and wanted me to try it too. She believed my fear was natural for a young mind, that I just needed to unlock myself, but for me, it wasn't like that.

And it got worse when I sought comfort in Qimir.

Maybe, in hindsight, I should have realized something, but it's easy to talk when the worst has already happened. I remember very well what happened that evening, I was exhausted after all the sword training. Vernestra didn't seem particularly happy with my outburst a few hours earlier when I tried to say that maybe I wasn't suited to be a knight, that I could have pushed myself into the medical field or even just be an assistant, maybe a volunteer in war zones. She thought I was speaking without knowing anything, pushing me all afternoon to train in various forms. My hands hurt from calluses, but instead of running to the infirmary, I decided to knock on Qimir's room.

"I don't understand why she doesn't want to accept it. I... don't want to hurt anyone." I broke the tense silence that had formed while Qimir wrapped my fingers with the bandages he had in the bathroom.

"No one said you have to. You're a Jedi, our job is to fight for those in need." He was focused on looking at my fingers, so he didn't notice the grimace I gave him, "And I understand that. But I don't feel suited for that role. Many Jedi perform different duties, fighting isn't essential for everyone." He sighed a laugh.

"I think Vernestra is worried about your safety, it's okay to seek your vocation elsewhere, but our faith leads us to interact with dangerous environments, even the most peaceful mission could hide a terrible evil." He finished the bandaging, then gently took my hands in his, the warmth of his palms a pleasant consolation to the painful throbbing of the blisters that filled my fingers.

He looked at me again with a sad smile on his lips, "I understand that you feel sure of what you want. But, flower, you're still a child. And you have many years ahead of you before you face the final exam, you don't know what will happen or if you will change your mind, don't take what you feel for granted." I blushed foolishly at the nickname he had started calling me some time ago, something about how "I seemed delicate like a flower".

"I know, but... don't you think lightsabers are terrifying?" I stuttered uncertainly, looking into his eyes.

And that moment. That single instant when he gave me that sweet smile, I shivered.

"That's what makes them so beautiful, right?"

I didn't have an answer, maybe yes, but I wouldn't have had the courage to tell him at the moment. I only know that I swallowed a bitter bite and freed myself from his grip, a heavy breath escaping my mouth, "I have to go, thanks for the bandages," I got up quickly and fled from that room as if I had someone on my heels.

That shiver down my spine, that rancid smell at my nose, I couldn't imagine it at the time, but that was the first time I felt fear.

Of course, I blamed myself entirely, I was exaggerating, everyone said so, I was terrified of violence in a way not suitable for the role I was supposed to fill in the future, I should have recovered quickly and restarted my training. I tried to forget that evening, as I had gradually forgotten that conversation on Hoth, but that was just the beginning.

The missions with Qimir keeping us company decreased over time, sometimes he just stopped by for a greeting or joined us more to keep me company if he had a free moment. I really appreciated the time together, I liked that we could remain silent without making it seem strange, once on Naboo he showed me almost the whole city since he had already visited it before. We got ice cream overlooking a lake in complete silence, the sunset was spectacular, and with the light sounds of the forest accompanying us, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his side.

The next morning, I found myself in my room with his cloak as a blanket since I was still dressed. When I tried to return it, he teased me, saying I had slipped on the ground when I pressed against him. I yelled at him that he was rude to tell me that, but only because I didn't have the courage to admit that I found it hilarious. If I had given him rope, he would have teased me about it for months.

When I was finally old enough to accompany the master on some of her more dangerous missions, my opinion on weapons had not changed, but I had made peace with myself and decided to find my combat style.

I was proud of how I built my lightsaber, but I had to modify it when I implemented the double-sided exit to have a double-bladed saber. It made me feel safer using it, more protected, and it was a more versatile weapon, especially for more enemies. So, once I got used to using it combined with a defensive fighting style, I finally felt complete.

On the field, I rarely used the lightsaber, trusting more in my control of the Force to block my opponents and stun them. I knew Vernestra was not entirely happy with how I restrained myself, but I tried to excel in everything else, hoping it was enough.

On a return trip to Coruscant, both wounded and tired, we talked once again about the problem that had arisen when it was needed.

What was supposed to be a quiet afternoon defending senators had turned into a nightmare when a bomb exploded at the meeting place, civilians fleeing in terror, and only a Jedi and a padawan handling the dozen terrorists shooting at the crowd.

The situation obviously got out of hand, and we survived by a miracle. Before calling the council to let them know what had happened, seeing me still so shaken, Vernestra hugged me.

I clung to her robe, barely holding back tears, the memory of all the wounded passing under my eyes still fresh, but she grabbed my shoulders, and looking at me with a determined face, she said, "You did well. I am proud of you."

A few minutes later, when we could finally sit down, I had the courage to speak.

"I killed them. It was so..." I was looking at the blue of hyperspace around us, lost in my thoughts, I don't know if I was talking more to myself or to her.

"You did what was necessary. On other occasions, we could have captured them, but we were at a disadvantage. Sometimes, to save lives, you have to make drastic choices," her tone always confident, as if it were all normal, and technically it was, for her.

I no longer knew what I was doing at that point.

"I know, but... my hands..." were shaking. They shaking even then, in the peace of our shuttle. I held onto the armrests tightly as if I were afraid of falling.

"Maybe Qimir is right."

I turned suddenly, confused, hearing his name mentioned out of nowhere. She sighed before looking at me again, "He thinks it would do you good to train with him a bit. He has been suggesting it to me for a while..." she cleared her throat before looking away.

"Maybe dealing with a more aggressive combat style like his would help you unlock. I know you two have become friends, and... he is much better than me at making you feel comfortable. He might be more helpful than I am."

I was taken aback, more by the fact that Qimir had suggested something like that without letting me know anything. It gave me a strange, somewhat unpleasant feeling that I couldn't quite identify.

But still, my problems at the moment were different, so I nodded. I already felt guilty enough for hesitating in the face of danger. Despite the comforting words, I couldn't shake off the feeling that I had failed.

“Just… be careful, okay?”

The look he gave me is one I would never forget. That… knowing glint deep in his eyes, like a warning bell. But I ignored it.

I nodded, but I ignored it.

When we got home, she headed towards the council room to submit her report. She advised me to go rest since it was already evening, but after saying goodbye to her, I quickly walked down the Jedi corridor. I had been injured and was limping slightly, the next day, I could get myself healed quickly by a healer using the Force, but at that moment, it was a different kind of pain tormenting me.

I knocked hard on Qimir's door without even thinking about it, two, three times before I heard some commotion on the other side, bare footsteps approaching the door before it opened.

“I hope you have a good reason for knocking on my door at this hour—” he mumbled sleepily, his hair messy and wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, confused, when I jumped into his arms.

My face pressed against his warm chest, and the tears I had been holding back until then started to fall relentlessly, accompanied by a few sobs.

He woke up suddenly, understanding what was happening. He effortlessly picked me up before entering the room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey, hey, my sweet flower, what's wrong?” he whispered in my ear, now fully awake.

I hid my face in his neck while he hugged me tightly, my legs hanging down the sides of his hips, my tears wetting the skin of his chest as I tried to stammer out coherent words.

I had never felt so small until that night, hidden in his arms. Although his cheerful personality made him seem childish at times, I tended to forget that we were a little over ten years apart, we didn’t really share anything except our loyalty to the Order and the same master, but we weren’t the same age, and we didn’t even have similar hobbies. We… he treated me like a little sister with absent parents.

I had run off to seek the safest comfort I knew, and he had given it to me without a second's protest.

He listened to my tear-flavored words without saying anything, his fingers brushing through my hair, partly caressing my scalp. He held me against his chest tighter when my sobs were too much to utter even a single syllable. He didn’t say anything when I was done, had me take off my shoes and most of my dirty tunic, and then lay down in bed with me.

I was pressed between the wall and his warm body, one arm on my side, and the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon.

The next day, still comfortably pressed against his chest, I took a moment to sort out my thoughts. I was ashamed of having lost my composure like that, i shouldn’t have fallen victim to fear, so I slipped away at dawn to avoid facing him. We never talked about what happened, I didn’t have much to say anyway and went back to focusing on my studies.

A few days later, Vernestra came to tell me she would be away to resolve the conflict that had arisen after that attack and that I was entrusted to Qimir as she had mentioned. I had already forgotten about that story, but it all came flooding back when we said goodbye on the platform. Her hesitant look as she stopped halfway up the ramp. I saw her sigh, maintaining a stoic expression before coming back to me one last time. “Trust your instincts, Padawan. If something makes you uncomfortable or… you just leave, got it? You’re still too young for certain matters.”

I didn’t have time to ask her what she was referring to, she boarded the ship right after and left, leaving me there with questions on the tip of my tongue.

Qimir sought me out soon after. I was hiding in the library every afternoon, hoping not to run into him and avoid training, but of course, it didn’t last long. With his usual light smile and calm demeanor, he approached me one morning, “Are you perhaps skipping your training, Padawan?” he asked, mimicking an authoritative tone.

I couldn’t even laugh. In the end, I gave in. I had promised my master, and the fear I felt that afternoon still gave me nightmares, so I followed him into the training room.

Fighting Qimir was like facing a hurricane, seemingly chaotic but, in reality, a perfectly concentrated deadly force of nature. I was used to exhausting rhythms, so I didn’t find it difficult, but what destabilized me was his gaze. It seemed like he really wanted to kill me.

Fast and lethal with his double violet lightsabers, he often aimed at my legs to make me fall and gain an advantage over me. I squirmed uneasily under that assault, of course, that was the goal of that training, but… there was a cold wind behind him. A suffocating sensation, a chill on my skin that made me doubt who or what I was facing.

Vernestra was away for just under a month, during which I trained with Qimir when I wasn’t studying. One of the last training sessions was grueling. I began to doubt he wanted to take it easy on me from the beginning, we clashed forcefully -with our lightsabers- because “it’s needed to keep you sharp ” as if the strikes he aimed at me weren’t enough to keep me alert.

A particularly painful strike to the thigh made me fall heavily to the ground, the fabric of my robe smoking from the slash. When I looked up at him, now disarmed, I almost vomited. Those eyes… now I could recognize them. The eyes of a killer. The same as those men that afternoon weeks before who had charged into the crowd.

I fled the room, took a shower, and went to bed without dinner. I was sure I was going insane. I was tired and nervous and seeing things that weren’t there. I tried to shake off that voice in my head that screamed at me to be careful with Qimir, the guilt clashing with the fear. I tried to bury it all once again, deeper and further away.

And so my routine returned to normal once everything was back to how it was before, and the master had returned, although… I had started to avoid Qimir. It wasn’t that I was running away from him, it was more like a need for personal space, let’s say. Luckily, he was sent on a mission, but he wrote to me almost every evening with messages about his goals, to which I replied with monosyllables. He realized something was wrong, but when he asked me how I was or if something had happened, I dodged the question.

During a mission in the Outer Rim, I was able to indirectly spy on a call between Vernestra and Qimir. She was scolding him for some unspecified decision, but it was the final warning that made me waver. “You’re losing your composure lately. Leave the mission and return to Coruscant to meditate on your choices.” My breath stopped when I heard him shouting through the holopad. I couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was complaining about the poor results of the missions or something like that. I swallowed down that memory too. It had been an outburst due to a tense situation, it could happen. I had to stop thinking about it.

Shared missions completely disappeared. Qimir and I only saw each other to spend time together. One evening, he took me to dinner in a somewhat shabby place with the promise that I could bring my fellow Padawans there when we were older. The light conversation at the table was pleasant before silence surrounded us.

“I’m sorry we see each other less lately,” he finally sighed after dessert.

I shrugged, relaxed. “Well, we have our duties. And I need to keep studying.” I thought I had given a satisfactory answer, but he looked more frowned than before. “It’s unfair. I want a Padawan too.”

I chuckled at the thought. “I think you need a few more years for that.” But he didn’t laugh, instead, he… stared at me in a way I couldn’t decipher. “Why do you say that? You’re growing well.”

I frowned at the answer. “Qimir, I’m Vernestra’s Padawan. No offense, but it’s she who’s raising me,” I maintained a smile that he didn’t share. “You spend more time with me than with her.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. I wanted to tell him that it was normal since we were friends, but that had little to do with the conversation we had started. To tell him that, as good as he was, he still struggled to act like a real authoritative figure suitable for a young boy who needs to learn the Jedi way, but… of course, I said nothing.

I didn’t feel like it. That conversation died just as it had begun.

It seemed that as time went by, that cheerful air around him faded. Maybe it was the maturity I was gaining that woke me up from that waking dream I was living. I recognized certain expressions or glances better, those smiles that once warmed my heart now had a bitter aftertaste. I began to wonder if something had been wrong from the start. Sometimes those strange warnings from Vernestra or those fragments of memories where I had seen him in a different light, more sinister, would come back to me.

So, I made a decision.

It was better to put some distance between the two of us, maybe growing up, I would be able to face him better, understand what was going through his head, and once matured, I would be able to help him as he helped me.

I don’t know if that decision was the straw that broke the camel’s back, if it was something inevitable that had already begun, or if there was no escape. Looking back at everything that happened, the mistakes had started much earlier, but how much blame did I truly deserve?

I was young, naive, it wasn’t my job to see beyond the veil of lies, beyond the Jedi, beyond the Force.

I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the dark side under those circumstances.

And in fact, I didn’t recognize it until it was too late.

And there it was, right in front of me, taking my breath away.

#the acolyte #star wars #qimir #qimir x reader #qimir x oc #age g4p #toxic relationship #padawan reader

149 notes · View notes

theragamuffininitiative · 6 months ago

Text

Having more "Leia and Obi-Wan throughout the series" thoughts ok. People talk about how the Kenobi show doesn't make sense bc Leia doesn't act like she knows him later. Like? She does though?

Her famous message is a professional diplomatic message, and it's actually really cool that now it echoes Bail's plea to Obi-Wan to come save Leia. Girl isn't going to say, "bestie help" here ok. But when Luke tells her he's there with Ben Kenobi and she gets So Excited???! Her beat up old wizard has come back to herrrrr.

But why doesn't Leia mention anything about Ben to Han and Luke? Well maybe it's because she was 10 when she saw him last, and probably the one thing Bail made sure she did remember was to keep Obi Wan's secret and she clearly doesn't trust Han not to sell them all out. And can you imagine all the jokes Han would crack about "I guess you always need rescuing, princess" if he knew that story? I wouldn't have brought it up either.

Why doesn't Leia mourn Obi-Wan? This woman just watched her entire home planet and everyone she knows and loves be wiped out and is holding it together. I think that rates higher than being sad about a man she hasn't seen in years. Maybe she comforts Luke bc she knows if she admits anything for herself now, the floodgates will burst and all that other loss will come pouring out and she'll lose it and she can't afford that. Maybe Bail taught her that stoicism. Or maybe she picked it up from a sad old jedi when he took time to comfort her when he knew he was likely going to his own death. So now I'm crying on the floor.

But did she ever talk about him with Luke (and others) later? Who's to say she didn't? Insert my new favorite headcanon that Luke off-handedly mentions the force ghosts of the jedi masters and Leia goes wide-eyed, "you can see Obi-Wan?" and so Luke teaches her how to use her force sensitivity and Obi-Wan is so happy to talk with her again. (Not to mention, talking with Anakin too.) And later on when she loses her son and her brother vanishes and her husband leaves, Leia Organa is not left alone.

Lastly. She named her son Ben.

#i say on the floor i'm actually at work but i want to relate to the younglings with my emotional expression here #ragamusings #leia organa #obi wan kenobi #kenobi #star wars #i am fully aware there are nuances in the lore i am forgetting but i can work them in trust me #i also know there is a lot of sequel book stuff that is canon but like au canon from movies now lol #i'm going based in onscreen stories only here #elsie friend knows more about this stuff than i do lol

284 notes · View notes

punishereditz · 2 years ago

Text

7 Years

Pairing: Jake Seresin x f!reader

Warnings: None. Just a lot of fluff and nerdy stuff. Childhood best friends to lovers. Do not copy!

AN: I absolutely love incorporating songs with my stories and I have this song on my playlist, and I got this idea. I have been at a terrible writer's block, but luckily, I was able to get this story done just in time for Valentine's.

Summary: All the times Jake asked you to marry him and all the times you turned him down... until one day it was different.

7 years old.

Jake runed through the yard and back to the tree house even though his mother specifically told him not to run. He had quickly climbed up, plates in hand. He sat by you, grin wide, you could tell he was up to no good like he usual his. The question was what was he is up to now?

His legs swinged as he happily ate the sandwich his mom made him for lunch, and you ate yours that she made for you. Luckily that day, she let you eat outside.

He giggled and smiled next to you, not being able to contain himself. He turned to you. "Will you marry me?" He finally said what has been on his mind.

You gave him a strange look as he held his arm out. Flower in hand. He patiently waited for an answer from you.

"No! We're to young." You spoke as if it was the most obvious thing.

His arm fell to his side, and before his smile could fall, he quickly snapped back with confidence, "But you will one day."

"No way Jake!" You shook your head and your refusal only made Jake want it more. Even if it would be a challenge, it was nothing he couldn't figure out. Jake knew right there and then that you were going to be his girl one day. He is going to stop at nothing until you are his.

11 years old.

Jake had searched the entire house, and there was no sight of you. After asking your mom, he made his way to the barn in hopes he would find you there. And he did.

He made his way to the top of the hay-bales where you sat up high. Head down in your notebook. He peaked his head over your shoulder. Trying to see what it is your drawing now.

"Whatcha drawing?" He asked.

"A cowboy Jedi." You answered without looking up at him. To focused on the shading, you were doing.

"A cowboy Jedi?" He repeated your words.

You turned the notebook so he could see it better. Using the pencil to point out each detail to him, explaining it. "See?"

He looked down at the western style Jedi that you have been working on for no telling how long. He only smiled widely at you. He didn't understand your obsession with all those Star Wars movies, but he knew it made you happy and he loves seeing you get all excited about something.

Looking away from the drawing, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a ring-pop, he held it out to you. "Will you marry me now?"

You laughed at him. Looking at him, then the candy. "Um... no. Nice try though." You smiled at him as you turned him down.

He let his head fall back, sighing. "I really thought the ring-pop would work. How could you say no to a ring-pop?" He said dead seriously, and you died of laughter.

"Will it make you feel better if I take it?" You somehow managed to speak through giggles. He said nothing as he handed it to you. His smile growing as he watched you go back to your own little world you have created in your notebook. You will be mine one day, He thought to himself.

18 years old.

Jake knocked on your bedroom door. Shortly after, you peaked your head out, then you fully opened the door for him to come in. Allowing him to see the mess you are. Your hair is tied up in a knot on top of your head. Mascara running down your cheeks and you wear an oversized shirt that swallows you whole.

You crawled back into bed, holding a pillow tight to your chest. Jake sat at the edge of the bed. Sitting two bags in front of you. He hated seeing you like this. It's rare for you to be this upset. Even when your sad, you usually still had a smile on your face, but that night you only frowned.

He pulls all the candy out of the bag. Trying to focus on cheering you up and not his anger. If you didn't ask him to come over when you called, he would have gone straight to the guy's house that did this to you. The guy you have been going out with standing you up for another girl.

"I got your favorites." He finally spoke. Handing you a bag of milky-ways. He reached into the second bag, pulling out a cd. He smiled as he handed it to you.

You gasped, eyes growing wide as you looked down at the Limp Bizkit's greatest hits cd. "Where did you find this? It's been sold out at every place I've checked."

"Well, a magician never tells his secrets." You roll your eyes. Tossing the pillow at him. He laughs.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly speaks. "You didn't deserve that." His voice is comforting. Soft. It catches you off guard. Tears threatening to fall. You stand up. Walking over to his side. As if he read your mind, he wraps you up in his arms. Holding you tightly. He gives you the comfort you need.

"You know... you wouldn't have to deal with assholes like him if you were married to me." You slap his chest.

"But then I would be married to an asshole- that I would never get to see."

"That's true..." He trails off.

"And before you ask, no." You speak. Knowing he will ask. And you know your answer. You're not dare going to say yes because you know once he joins the Navy, you will never get to see him.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Your voice cracks. Your terrified for him. But you won't let him know just how scared you are.

"I do, sweetheart." He fights off the knot that grows in his throat as he looks into your pain filled eyes.

"Well... may the force be with you." He chuckles.

"And may the force be with you." He puts up a smile for you. He wants to pull out the little round box with the ring he bought, get on one knee and beg you to marry him, but before he could even ask, you said no. And that's fine. He plans to try again.

35 years old. Presents day.

Jake's not paying one bit of attention to the movie. He looks down at his girlfriend in awe. You're laying against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. He watches carefully as your eyes light up and your smile grows as you watch A New Hope.

He's never cared for the movies but yet he knows everything about them because of you. He is willing to suffer for two hours just because he knows you love them so much. Even though you have seen the movies thousands of times, you still squeal and squirm in excitement when a part you love happens, and that's what he loves to see.

He loves his metalhead, Star Wars, comic book loving, nerd of a girlfriend. You're still the exact same person you were when you were 7. Even though you two have been dating for three years now, he is still in shock that he got you. That you are his and he is yours. He jokingly mentioned dating one night, and you said yes. Completely confusing the hell out of him. But he quickly pulled it together and asked you out. You've been dating ever since. All his dreams have come true. And yours to. Jake's a fighter pilot for the US Navy, a job he loves, and is dating the woman he has been in love with for his entire life. Things couldn't be better.

While Jake was off in the Navy, you were working your ass off in college, getting a degree in art. Now you're a comic book artist, dating your childhood best friend. Everything is perfect. But Jake knows a way it could be even more perfect. He reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants. Pulling out the death star ring box he has had since he was eighteen.

He sits it on your leg. Not saying a word. You pick it up and he tenses under you. You open it. Looking at the two sliver bands. You pick up the smaller one, noticing the words 'I know' printed on the inside. You grab the other ring, and it says, 'I love you'. You immediately realize that he printed what Leia said to Han in the rings. Your heart sinks, your throat tightening and tears coming to your eyes. The rings are Stars Wars, and the box is as well. Even though he doesn't like it, he did it for you.

Tears fall from your eyes, and he looks at you confused. You hand him your ring, looking into those emerald eyes. "Yes." You say softly.

He didn't think it was even possible for his body to tense even more, but it does. He moves his head back to look at you better. His eyebrows furrowing.

You chuckle, "Don't make me change my mind." You tease. He clears his throat. Breathing deeply. His body starts to relax as he takes your hand in his. Sliding the ring onto your finger. Before you can say anything, he smashes his lips onto yours. His hold on you tightening. Holding you impossibly close to him.

You finally pull away from him to catch your breath. Looking into his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "Mrs. Seresin... It's got a ring to it." His words make your smile grow. He holds and loves you the rest of the night. Never letting go of you.

2K notes · View notes

toska-writes · 7 months ago

Note

Hello Toska!

I really enjoy reading your stories, they are really good! I see so many fanfics that swear, or have nasty stuff, but yours are good. I was wondering if you do requests? If so, could you do one with the Bad Batch (mostly Hunter and Crosshair) where the reader is a female Jedi? And the reader goes on a mission and risks their life to protect one of the Bad Batch but they get injured? Take as much time as you need, thank you for your time! :)

Yeah this may be from a few months ago…. But here we are

“Concussion Protocol”

Summary: concussions are risky business, and a certain “unconcerned” sniper makes sure everything this ok

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Platonic)

Warning: small mention of blood, throwing up I guess, nothing crazy

Word count: 1313 (I meant for this one to be a short blurb but whatever

Notes: I changed up the request a bit but it was just a small thing I wanted to write

The ringing was so loud. Though maybe it was so loud because everything else is so quiet. Or maybe you couldn’t hear anything else at all.

The only thing you did know is that if you kept thinking about this it would make your head hurt more than it already was.

And that was saying something. Your head felt like it weighed an extra 50 pounds as you were hunched over trying desperately to catch any breath and keep your head from hitting the floor.

Ringing, that’s all it was. For a moment you could hear your own thought and could have sworn something touched your shoulder.

You couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter at this point because in all honesty you couldn’t even tell where you are.

No no the something definitely touched your shoulder because it was a lot firmer this time. Your whole body shook with whatever was on your shoulder and if it wasn’t for something else grasping your other arm you definitely would have fallen over.

You looked over slightly, more even breaths rolled through you now, and finally something came into focus. A hand…. Oh that’s what was holding you up right now.

The shaky image of helmet comes into your view with a hand now place under your chin slightly lifting it up.

The way the helmet was moving you assumed the person hold be talking to you, it was either that or the world was spinning around you.

They looked familiar, whoever they were, but if you tried to think anymore you were pretty sure your head would pop right off. What did even happen? It was blurry looking back now.

Crosshair watched them for a moment, their eyes lost in thought finally trained back onto him but only for a moment before they drooped again.

He felt the growing weight of your face in his palm before you slumped over even more

“Okayyyy” He muttered more to himself since the calls of your name moments ago fell on deaf ears. The first thing Crosshair had to do was get you off of the battle field.

He was just lucky he saw you in time, the amount of now broken battle droids scattered around your unaware mind scared him. Scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I found them, I just need someone to cover me.” Crosshair spoke cooly into the comm, the panic rising in him however contradicted him.

A confirm from someone on the other side didn’t really matter to Crosshair at this moment, it mattered getting you to open your eyes again.

Finally the ringing died down, enough to recognize there was a voice coming from somewhere extremely close to you. It took a moment more to realize it was your name someone spoke.

The fight to open your eyes was hard. The dying light still hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust again.

“Hmmm?” Was all you could get out before you felt a thumb trace over part of your forehead.

It worried Crosshair of where this blood was coming from, he tried to keep in away from your mouth and eyes with his thumb for a moment.

The sound of blaster fire sounded closer to his head than he would have liked.

“Come on Crosshair go!” He heard hunter practically yell in his ear. Right he could worry about wiping your face later.

You felt yourself move off the ground slightly. Looking around you were about to protest to the person that you still couldn’t identify in your state, but the swirling world did not pair well with your head. This resulted in you quickly shoving your head towards the armored chest that held you.

A groan must have escaped your lips but a husked voice reassured you quickly. Wait no you definitely knew that voice, but for the love of maker a face nor name could make it to your brain.

A feeling did however, and it was warm in your chest- you had nothing to worry about if he was here.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to slur some words together without moving your head too much.

“Towards the Marauder.” He spoke clearly to you, no more ringing seemed to disrupt your hearing. “Can you tell me what that is?”

The question struck you as odd for a moment. Of course you knew what the Marauder was….right? That didn’t stop you from thinking for a moment before you responded with “… a ship?”

“I’m actually impressed” was all that came from whoever held you as he started to slow down more. You couldn’t tell with your eyes closed when your surroundings changed but a quick tap to your check and you opened your eyes to the inside of a ship.

“Is this…” you started, a limp hand gestured around before returning with a thump to your lap. “ the Marauder.

The figure now crouched in front of you with on hand keeping you sitting straight up nodded once before reaching with his other hand a removing his helmet.

“Can you remember anything else?” He spoke softly and slowly to you, but you didn’t answer.

The man had a tattoo over his eye, one that caught your attention immediately.

You knew who that was. A smile broke across your lips and a small laugh forced its way through your mouth. A shaky hand of yours reached out to the side of his face with the tattoo. He let it happen and watched your face hoping for any recognition.

“Crosshair.” Finally something you remembered

The man, now you were sure was Crosshair, nodded ever so slightly again but the smirk was prominent in his features.

“I’m going to clean your head ok?” He rasped.

The smile couldn’t be swiped from your face either as you continued to smile at him. “Crosshair.” You spoke again. Just like the first time it wasn’t a question, you were sure.

He hummed as a response before pushing you back slightly and dampening a rag as he still was crouched on the floor.

“I’m tired.” It was the first and only thing you were thinking about or could think about. The pounding in your head and the swirling of the world was becoming too much.

“You just have to wait a few seconds for me ok?” The cool ragged touch your face and surprisingly didn’t burn. “I just have to make sure nothing too serious is going on up there.” He poked the middle of your forehead with his finger.

Crosshair deemed his work satisfactory enough when he could finally locate one of the many cut along your forehead. Grimacing at it he decided that it would definitely need stitches.

But you didn’t have to know that right now. “All done.” His nimble hands returned to your shoulders pulling you up. Your eyes once again opened, though you couldn’t fall asleep since Crosshair did anything in his power for you to keep talking to him.

“Is it nap time?” He almost couldn’t make out your words for a moment before he took your face in and sigh.

“Don’t tell Tech, but yeah I think you deserve a nap time.” Crosshair still planned to scan for more injury’s but could letting you sleep change a lot?

Before he knew it your body leaned forward and quickly crashed into his own, your head found its stop between his shoulder plate and his neck perfectly.

The words were soft now muffled into his skin but he could nearly make out “Thanks Crosshair.” The voice faded out towards the end but that what brought the smile back to his face.

Thought he was sure they would never hear it again small “ Of course ad’ika” was muttered into the air before he scooped the padawan up into his arms once again to move them someplace more comfortable.

————————————————————

If you want to be added to the Taglist let me know!

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

#star wars #star wars clone wars #the clone wars #clone wars #my writing #toska-writes #the bad batch #big brother crosshair #crosshair x platonic!reader #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch x platonic!reader #the bad batch x reader

251 notes · View notes