#iron heart droids

[wanderingjedi77]

Redemption (Bo Katan x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You go to the mines of Mandalore to redeem yourself of your transgressions, to help you on the path of the creed. Bo comes to your rescue. Requested by Anon who I hope likes it. I did a little extra for you.

The mines of Mandalore.

The stories you had read said that one could be redeemed in the living waters, and that it would make you worthy of the creed. You weren't sure exactly if it was true, but you weren't here for yourself. You were here because you wanted to redeem yourself, to be worthy of taking the creed. You wanted to show your girlfriend, Bo-Katan of House Kryze, that you were worthy of her.

Coming here alone? That might not have been your brightest idea.

You had a managed to avoid too many encounters, and fought your way through the ruins of Sundari until you found the road that led you to the mines. It was cold, dark and damp. But you were glad you leave the ghosts of Sundari behind, the bodies of a city ruined, a home forgotten.

You let out a slow breath, and eyed the waters.You hoped that the droid had managed to keep your secret at least, and you could come back to Bo proud.

On Kelevala though, unbeknown to you, Bo-Katan was losing her mind. She had sought you out to see if you wanted to have a night to yourselves, and had found you missing. You hadn't said anything about leaving, and you usually wouldn't go anywhere without at least letting her know. She looked all over the palace and had no idea where you were.

When she sought out her iron heart or Ka'rta droid, the one the managed your affairs, she was met with indifference.

"Tell me where she is!" Bo demanded angrily.

"I am afraid that Lady y/n is gone."

"Where! Tell me or I'll melt you down and use you as repair parts for my ship!" Bo yelled at them. The Ka'rta paused, as if it was going through a million reasons why they shouldn't tell her. But the Iron heart did not want to become spare parts.

"Lady y/n has gone to Mandalore.' The droid answers, not wanting to lie any further. Bo lets go of them and growls,

"What do you mean she's gone to Mandalore?" Bo shouts at her droid.

"She left a few hours ago Princess. She asked me not to tell you and that she would come back as a daughter of Mandalore. She wanted to do this for you."

Bo feels a flash of anger go through her, "I'm going after y/n." She puts on her helmet and marches to her ship. "Stay here and guard the castle." Bo straps herself in and takes off, trying to stop herself from shaking. If she didn't get to y/n soon, she wouldn't have the love of her life left, her girlfriend.

She wouldn't be able to tell you how much she loved you, instead of showing you.

Bo gripped the controls tighter and prayed you were okay-

By the time she arrived on Mandalore and found you, you were already at the mines of Mandalore, and she ran towards you as fast as she could, knowing the way better then most, not wanting you to risk your life, to do something so dangerous.

She was terrified.

Bo doesn't have any time to call your name as you walk towards the water, doesn't have time to warn you that the ledge is destroyed before you the dark abyss takes you-

You scream as you sink like a rock; echoing off the mines walls. You mouth fills with water and you try to swim to the surface, but the water is cold and deep; and you keep going down. You try to push against the darkness again, and something grabs you around the middle and starts propelling you up until it stops suddenly, as if frightened by something and then shoots you out of the water.

You, and the mysterious rescuer land on the ground with a heavy thud and you start to choke up water, and curl up; breathing hard. You don't register at first that it's Bo who helps you sit and pulls you against her until your wrapping your arms around her and breathing in her familiar scent.

"You're okay y/n." Bo says, and she rubs circles into your back as you calm down.

"Bo..." You gasp out and cough, before you relax enough to look at her. Your cold; force why is it so cold here?and start to shiver. Bo reaches into a bag nearby and pulls out a robe; her robe, you realise, that she wears when she leaves on missions to colder places and wraps it around you tightly. You meet her gaze and see her give you a hard look.

She's angry.

"What the hell were you thinking coming here by yourself?" Bo says furiously.

"I was trying to atone for my transgressions." You reply, eyes prickling with tears. "So I could become a Mandalorian."

Bo looks startled. "You...what?"

"It's silly, but I wanted to make sure I was the right woman for you." You tremble a bit, thinking about some of the history books Bo had lying around her castle that talked about the creed.

"Don't tell me you believe in that." Bo asks, she rubs your arms with her hands, trying to warm you up.

"I believe in you." You explain. "You deserve someone who isn't weighed down by their past."

Bo pauses. "You're so silly y/n." She shakes her head. "I don't care if your a Mandalorian or not, I just want you to be mine." Bo tilts her head as you reach up and runs your fingers through her hair, damp and tossed.

"Oh." You reply, quietly. You smile at her and she sighs and smiles back.

"Please promise me you won't do anything like that again?" Bo says, and you nod. "A verbal answer y/n."

"Yes Bo. I promise you. I won't come here alone again, or try to become a Mandalorian without you there." You answer, and Bo kisses you; putting her hand on the back of your neck to draw you in further. She leaned her forehead against your when you parted, and you tilted your head, curious. She had a funny look in her eyes, like she couldn't believe what she was looking at.

"What is it?"

"I saw...I don't know what I saw down there." Bo shakes her head. "I think it was the mythosaur."

You laugh. "Okay?" You giggle. "You don't believe in that stuff anyway."

Bo gives you a look and you pause in your teasing,

"What? I wasn't awake Bo." You answer.

"I know it's just...it bothered me." Bo shakes her head, thoughtful. "I don't know what it means.." When she looks at you next she stands up and pulls you with her. You look up at Bo with a small smile.

"Maybe it's a good sign?" You offer, and Bo hesitates, just for a fraction of a second. You see a flicker a worried expression across her face, like she needs to tell you something-

"I love you." Bo tells you and you feel your heart skip. She's never told you that before, her actions yes, but this was new. You opened your mouth and looked stunned for a moment before speaking.

"What?"

"I said I love you-" Bo makes a funny sound, surprised when you kiss her desperately. She grins at you when you part,

"y/n?"

"I love you too Bo." You tell her, and as she draws you in her arms again, the mines seem a little less dark, and a little less lonely.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

[daughterofthequeen]

Things Aren’t Always What They Seem and Sometimes They Are

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x padawan!reader

Summary: You’re Anakin’s padawan and after your master has a close call you develop nightmares of his death. Every time you close your eyes you see it, so you decided staying awake is the best way to keep your mind at ease and keep your master safe.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, platonic relationship, crying, nightmares, reader uses she/her pronouns, small mention of blood, reader has at least shoulder length hair, description of throwing up, description of death, light description of head being cut off, detailing insomnia, I made my own cw battle, I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything

A/N: I just needed this. Either Anakin can be used, but both Anakin’s are the same to me. Also readers nickname is stub btw due to her stubborn nature(gimme Ik). In this storyline Ahsoka is Kenobi’s padawan, but Anakin still uses Snips for Ahsoka since they’re still always around each other due to Ahsoka being readers best friend and Kenobi also always being around. This is also longer than I planned, sorry.

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

This is not happening. This is not happening! It’s impossible, he’s survived far worse than this, right? A building exploding with him still inside it was a piece of cake when it came to my master. So why isn’t he answering his comm, and why can’t I feel him?! His force signature is gone!

He’s dead.

That’s why I can’t feel him. Everything around me was basically nonexistent to me, all I could focus on was the rubble in front of me that had my master trapped. He couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be, and I refuse to believe that he is. I wanted to go search for him, to help get him out of there because he needs me, but I couldn’t move and all I could hear was my heart beating loudly in my ears. Until a louder noise snapped me out of it.

“COMMANDER!!!” Rex yelled as he grasped me by my shoulders and was roughly shaking me, which snapped me out of my shock. “Commander the tank lifters are here to remove the debris.”

“Hurry, Rex.” After Rex leaves to go give the orders I turn back to the rubble as I tried to dig deeper into the force to try and sense my master’s force signature. I came up empty handed until I felt a pull towards the other side of the destroyed building. I followed it until I heard a voice. Dooku. I know that slimy voice from anywhere. I hurriedly hid behind a large rock, that I could tell used to be a wall, as I listened to Dooku’s conversation.

“And you’ve found nothing?” Dooku voiced to a battle droid.

“Nothing. We’ve looked everywhere.”

“Hmm” Dooku wasn’t so sure, Skywalker wasn’t easily terminated, how ironic it would be for him to be taken out by a simple explosion. He closed his eyes to focus on any life signature, but the only ones he found were weak and they were all similar in some way, confirming they were just feeble clones. And he was about to call this a success until he felt a stronger force signature, and it wasn’t under the rubble, definitely a Jedi. Dooku opened his eyes and looked to his right, looking straight at the stone you were hiding behind, but before he could act his holoprojector went off. “Yes master?”

“Return to your castle, I have more important matters for you to tend to.” A blue tented hooded figure spoke.“Now.” The hooded figure quickly added sensing the hesitation his apprentice gave off.

“Yes, master.” The holoprojector cut off and Dooku called for all the battle droids to fall back, and they left taking their victory. And their victory? The termination of Anakin Skywalker.

I quickly ducked behind the destroyed wall before Dooku could see me, even though I was certain he could feel me. But to my luck he was called away, I waited for the last separatist ship to fly away and that’s when I left my hiding spot. I started looking around the same area Dooku was to try to find any sign of my master, but there was none. A sickly feeling washed over me, I was close to letting the breakfast I had this morning back up, but was able to keep it down. Though I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears.

“Master?” I whispered fearfully, my voice not able to speak any louder without cracking.

“Master.” I said a little louder, as the tears started rolling over at this point.

“MASTER! WHERE ARE YOU??!!!” I finally screamed, the tears are now unstoppable and so were the sobs. The cries broke free. I was sobbing uncontrollably, and soon found that my legs were not able to hold my weight anymore as I dropped to my knees. The pain from the rubble that was made up of stone and metal went unnoticed. Bracing my hands against the ground to keep myself up and grounded as much as I could. I started pleading to the force to give Anakin a few more strings of luck, so he could make it out of this alive. So caught up in my own pain, I didn’t even hear the stones moving to my far left, let alone the foot steps.

After Anakin no longer felt Dooku’s presence and when he was sure he wasn’t coming back he used the force to move the destroyed stones that were surrounding him and some of his troops away from them. And they started climbing their way out from the rubble. After he made it out and helped some of his men out as well he looked around making sure there was no danger as he was catching his breath. When he looked to his right, he spotted his padawan. His padawan who‘s supposed to be on the other side of the explosion sight. What is she doing here?! Dooku and his droids could’ve seen her and he wouldn’t of been able to get out from under the rubble in time. It’s like she does the complete opposite of what he says, to stress him out on purpose. He sighed and started his walk over to his padawan, and when he did he seen and heard the predicament she was in. She was crying? Why is she crying? He wondered if she was injured. She was clutching her hands to her chest, which made him worry even more. He hurried to her side, and as he dropped down next to her, he grasped her shoulders, turning her towards him to look her over.

“What is it? Where are you hurt?” Anakin’s heart was racing at this point as he panicked. All he knew is he needed to help her, but his padawan on the other hand had a different reaction upon seeing him. Regardless of his efforts to get her up she wasn’t moving, and she heard nothing he was saying. All she could do was stare. Her master was alive? How? His force signature was gone and that only means one thing. Death. So how was it her master was kneeling in front of her trying to make sure she was okay? For the second time that day she had to be shook harshly to snap her out of her shock. But it still did no good to help her understand what was going on.

“(Y/n)! What’s wrong?” Silence.

“(Y/n), talk to me!”

“Master?” Was all that she could whisper out.

“Where are you hurt? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.

“You’re alive.”

“Wha-? Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The building- I mean you were still inside. Your signature was gone.” Having to explain what she thought happened only brought the tears back, unable to stomach the loss of her master, someone who’s like a father to her, and the closest she would get to having one. The thought of losing him was unbearable, and not to mention against the Jedi code. Attachment was forbidden, and she knew her attachment to Anakin was way more than it should be. She threw herself into him, much to Anakin’s shock. Her face buried in his neck, with her arms wrapped around it as well, as she let the rest of her tears out.

Anakin’s heart broke at the sound of her sobs, they sounded so broken. The original plan was to plant the bombs and get out of there which you were able to do successfully and get to the extraction point unscathed, but the separatists knew about their plan and next thing he knew hundreds of battle droids blocked them in. He was able to keep the ceiling from crushing him and his men around him, and was able to cloak his signature from Dooku. And that meant from everyone else as well, so he could see how that might have scared you. Wrapping his arms around his padawan, he made sure to keep a firm comforting grip, letting her know that he was here and not going anywhere. She cried harder at his promise, she could feel it, he was telling the truth.

𝟺 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛:

It’s been 4 months since the incident, 4 months since I believed my master was dead, 4 months since I’ve had a good nights rest. Ever since the Battle of Aravion I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes my darkest fears come to life. So I do my best to stay awake as long as I can. Some would say that’s unhealthy or dangerous with me fighting in a war and all, but I’m doing fine . . . .mostly.

“Hellooo, Coruscant to Stubs.” I hear my master say as he comes into my line of sight, snapping his fingers in front of my face which I turns snaps me out of my daydream. “You with me?”

“Sorry, Master. What were you saying?” Shaking my head to clear and focus my thoughts.

“I said if you don’t focus you’re going to get stunned, and I’m sure you don’t want that to happen, right?”

“No, master. I’m sorry, master.”

“Sorry?” Anakin mumbled to himself, you never say sorry to anyone even when you are, unless it’s in front of the council or something, you show your apologies more so with actions, not words. And there’s usually a snappy comeback by now. What’s going on with you?

“It’s fine, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” I’ve might’ve said that a little too quickly. Oops.

“Stub, I know you. What’s wrong?” Anakin knows how to get me to crack. It’s just something about his soft voice that makes me feel like he could fix whatever’s going on with me. No matter how big or small. But not this time, my problems will go away on their own. I just hadn’t got the incident through my system is all. After all, part of becoming a Jedi is being able to let go of your personal feelings, and that’s not something that you can’t rely on people for, it’s a matter of you.

“There’s nothing wrong, I was just wondering when our next mission would be. We never stay here at the temple for very long. I guess I’m just a little anxious.”

“Yeah, I was like that too at the beginning of the war, but I just learned to relax whenever I’m given a peaceful moment. It keeps your head clear and it helps keep you balance.”

“I will try.” I took a deep breath as I turned away from my master and walked back to the where the 501 boys were waiting. I got into my starting position, lighting my lightsabers. I had to focus, that was the only way to get Anakin to believe me, so I had to last my usual time or he would know something was definitely up. I gave Rex a nod, letting him know that I was ready. He gave the signal, and for the next three minutes it was going well. Until I was hit in the back, then everything went dark.

BOOM!!!

I groan as I sit myself up. I must’ve been stunned about 5 or 6 times, my body isn’t usually this stiff after waking up due to growing a tolerance. But wait a minute. Stun shots don’t sound like explosions. I quickly stood up to scan my surroundings only to see I was in the middle of a battle field. I must’ve been hit with a blaster shot, but I didn’t feel any pain besides the stiffness. How did we get onto a battle field, we were just in a training room a few minutes ago.

BOOM!!!

I turned towards the front and could see nothing but fog. I lit my saber and started deflecting the blast that were coming my way. Maybe they couldn’t wait on me to wake up. What was the mission again? Wait. My master would never leave me behind, regardless of the mission, unless it was safer somehow. So where is he? I looked around again and heard a groan this time. I turned to my right to see a trooper. I quickly ran to help in any way I could.

“Trooper! Are you ok?!”

“I’m fine as I can be commander.” He groans.

“What battle is this? What was the mission?”

He coughs harshly. So harsh blood comes up. “The plan was to blow the factory. Groan. I suspect the others have made it there already.” He cuts himself off due to coughing more.

“Help will be here soon trooper stay awake.” I tried comforting him as I squeezed his hand. Trying to keep my emotions at bay.

“They knew we were coming. Gasp. We didn’t stand a chance. But you insisted we go on with the plan. General Skywalker agreed, trusting your judgment. Gasp. Half of us were wiped out. You walked us to our death.” All of a sudden the comms in his helmet we’re getting louder. I heard the screams of the troopers in pain. The yells of orders being thrown out by Rex. The explosion that seemed closer than it should’ve been in the comm, like it was right next to that poor trooper that was unlucky enough to get hit. I back down towards the trooper I was comforting only to see he was deadly still. And I knew he was. His eyes were staring straight up towards the sky. Like he embraced the call of death on his life. I heard the sobs and even looked around to see where they were coming from, but they were coming from me. I did this, all this was my fault. This was my mission, the troops were following my orders, I lead them to their deaths knowing it was a trap to begin with. I hurriedly stood up and started running forward. I moves as fast as I could until I could see the building and could hear the explosions more clear. I ran until I got to the front of the lines using my saber to block incoming blasts, and thankfully as always Rex was there.

“Rex!”

“Commander, you’re alright!”

“Yes. Where’s General Skywalker?!” I had to yell for him to be able to hear me over the sounds of battle.

“He went to set the bombs, he should be back by now.”

“I’ll go help!” But I was stopped, a hand gripping my arm.

“The bombs are about to detonate any second!”

“Anakin is still in there!”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you go in!” After that statement the building collapsed in a fiery blaze. We were far enough away to feel nothing but the strong wind the explosion put off.

“Rex, hurry and get the tank lifters here. I’m going to find Anakin.” And I took off regardless of Rex’s yells. I made it to the blast sight, but upon arrival Dooku and his mindless droids were there. I hid behind a large rock when I was struck with a hard case of deja vu. This has happened before, maybe the first time was just a vision. The force letting me know everything was going to be ok. I peaked around the corner seeing Dooku talking through a holoprojector to a cloaked figure. After their conversation ended, Dooku ordered all the droids to load up and evacuate. After he left I ran to where I was last time waiting for my master to unmask his signature. When he did I hurried to that area and helped with moving the debris that was around them. After getting him and the troops out safely I walked to my master to check and see if he was ok.

“Master, how are you feeling?” I was a lot calmer then last time, a little too calm. But he’s fine maybe for once things will actually go our way.

“I feel fine, but where were you stubs. We could’ve used your help.” He was out of breath, but still managed to be sarcastic. He was fine. I let out a light laugh.

“Come on master, let’s get you back to the transports so we can get you checked for any brain damage. Well, more than usual.” I smirk and turned to walk off, but felt he wasn’t following, so I turned only to see him standing really stiff.

“Master, what’s wrong?” I was so close to him. My hands were on his shoulders just in case he might fall. Suddenly, a red light pierced through my masters chest and would’ve passed through the top of my head if I hadn’t of moved just in time. Only to realize it wasn’t just a light, it was a lightsaber!

“NO!!!”

As my master dropped to the ground Dooku was standing right there over him. The color of his lightsaber reflecting on his wrinkled face. I paid him no attention though, I ran to my master hoping by some miracle he was still breathing. I lifted him up and moved myself behind him, so he could lean on me, hoping it would give him some kind of comfort. But maybe it was just to comfort myself.

“Master! Master, get up! Get up!” I was trying to pull him up, help him stand, so we could get out of here, but the only response my master gave was falling to the side, hitting the ground. “No! Master, get up. No, no, no, no. Let’s go. Please, let’s go.” Rows of heavy tears rolled down my closed eyes as I was sitting on my knees praying that this wouldn’t be true. I grabbed my masters ungloved hand, still warm though it has only been a couple minutes since it happened. It felt like hours. Dooku didn’t even have the courage to give my master a fighting chance. What coward stabs someone in the back, and calls it a honorable victory. Falling forward, I hugged my masters dead body as I sobbed so loud the stars could hear me across galaxies. My voice coming out in squeaks as I try to tell him how sorry I am, how sorry I was of failing him, how I didn’t see Dooku coming, hoping he would believe me, or at least hear me in the afterlife.

“Feeble child.” Hearing his voice only made me angry. I gripped my sabers and ignited them, quickly turning around striking Dooku down where he stood. And of course he was able to keep himself up, all he did was drop to his knees. But what I planned next no one could walk away from. I slowly stood, and walked towards him tauntingly, I wanted him to know what was coming. Before he could even attempt at grabbing his saber, I made sure to cut through his useless hands. I then lifted my sabers, crossing them at his neck as I looked him in the eyes, pulling my sabers apart. The body dropped and I watched as the severed ball rolled in the opposite direction. I looked down and seen a red lightsaber, but it wasn’t Dooku’s. I looked over to my other saber seeing that they were identical. The red I was seeing was coming from my lightsabers, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. And unbeknownst to me, my eyes reflected the damage I’ve done as well. A piercing yellow with red rimings, the eyes of a sith.

I gasped as I quickly sat up, looking around. I was able to slow my heart enough and calm my raging brain to notice I was in my room. How’d I get here? Was everything that just happened a dream? There’s was only one way to find out, find Anakin. Fearfully, I got up and walked out of my room, cautiously but quickly searching for my master, too riled and unfocused to use the force. I walked straight across the hallway to his quarters and knocked. It went unanswered, taking it upon myself to open the door, only to find he wasn’t there. Everything left untouched his messy bed from yesterday still in the same state it was, saying he’ll fix it later. I took off to the training room, still nothing. Then to the cafeteria. Nothing. At this point I was starting to worry. I didn’t want the grand masters to see me like this knowing they would sense my fear and unease, but this was Anakin, I’ll risk it. I went to the council room, also empty. This sickly feeling washed over me, and I ran to the closest bathroom. Passing Obi-Wan and Anakin padawan in the process.

“Stub?”

“I thought you said she was resting?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms at his former padawan’s ability to keep up with his own padawan.

“She was. Why is she up this late?” He mumbled, his confused frown deepening as well. Even if she was up, why was she running through the halls? Either her and Ahsoka were sneaking around in the pantries again or something was wrong. Without so much as a warning to Obi-Wan, Anakin took off to follow his padawan. He caught up to her only to see her burst into the women’s restroom.

“She had to use the bathroom.” Obi-Wan stated the obvious.

“Why not just use the one in her room? I think somethings wrong master. She’s been acting strange lately.”

“Anakin, your padawan is your responsibility. You should know why she’s been acting differently.” He scolds.

“I know that, Master. But-”

“But what?”

“She usually comes to me when she’s ready, so I don’t push it.”

“Anything could be going on with her Anakin, whether she wants to or not it’s your job to find out what’s causing her trouble.”

“That’ll just push her further away. I know Stubs, if I push to hard it’ll just delay the progress of her telling me. I know because I’m the same way.”

“You’ve never been that way with me.”

“That’s because I knew you years before I even became your padawan. Stubs and I are only a year in.”

“And you both are already so much alike that you would think the two of you share the same brain.” Anakin rolled his eyes at his masters comment and walked up to the women’s bathroom door, but when he did he could sense waves of fear going through you. He almost walked into the room, turning towards Obi-Wan seeing if he would stop him. It’s not like anyone else was in there, they only felt her.

“I’ll keep watch to make sure nobody else goes in. Go.” Anakin nods, closing his eyes as he walked into the bathroom just in case you were actually using it.

“Stub?” He calls out softly, his voice echoing throughout the walls. His only reply though was the sound of soft gagging. “Stubs?!” He called again this time his eyes are open as he ran and found the stall you were in. It wasn’t even locked. He found you on your knees, head above the toilet dry heaving into it, while also trying to catch your breath. He went to get some paper towels from the dispenser, wet them, then came back to keep your hair out of your face. Once he was sure you were done, he knelt down in front of you and turned you towards him, brushing your hair behind your ears to keep it out the way and started cleaning your face. He was worried, yes, but he knew you didn’t needed him playing 20 questions right now.

“Can you stand?” He spoked as softly as he could.

The whole time you didn’t know who was helping you, you barely noticed someone was there helping you at all. But when your eyes focused as you looked up, a small gasp came from you.

“Master.” A sense of deja vu washed over him.

“Are you able to get up?” He started to panic because tears started rolling over your cheeks. He was about to ask what was wrong but your body slamming into his stopped him, again. Confused? Way more than he was before. Worried? Even more so. Anakin maneuvered you so he was able to pick you up, and carry you out of the bathroom, simultaneously throwing away the paper towels. The door opened and he came face to face with Obi-Wan. Who only gave him a ‘take my advice’ kind of look. Receiving a tired sigh from Anakin.

“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow Master. Good night.” To which Kenobi responded back with a good night of his own.

He made his way back to your room as he constantly looked down at you to check and make sure you were ok. Your eyes were barley open, you looked exhausted, as your head laid in his chest. You should be, he wondered how long it was going to take you to break after not sleeping for months. He was hoping his heartbeat would’ve put you to sleep by now. He knew you thought you were keeping it a well kept secret. That’s the whole reason you both haven’t been on a mission yet, he asked the council to give the both of you a few days off, refusing to let you put yourself in anymore unnecessary danger. He was surprised the council agreed, chalking it up to Obi-Wan putting in a word for him. He could’ve just banned you from coming on missions until you told him what was wrong, but that would’ve just made you retreat and hide your restlessness better. This was the best choice. Making it to your room, the door slid open, and he gently laid you down on your bed. He was about to let you rest and get to the bottom of this in the morning, but your hand quickly grabbed his, keeping him from leaving.

“Don’t go.” You whimpered, breaking his heart of what felt like the thousandth time that night. He complied and released a heavy sigh.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with you Stubs. I’ve given you enough time to figure this all out and tell me what’s going on, but this has gone to far.” He kept his voice low to let her know he wasn’t upset with her just worried. You sat up regardless of him trying to lay you back down but true to your nickname, you’re just stubborn. He stayed where he was kneeling in front of you, letting you have the height of the conversation, physically and metaphorically.

I couldn’t look him in the eye knowing that I would start crying again.

“I just had a bad dream, that’s all.” Trying to play it off as nothing.

“Yeah. One among the many for the past few months, right?” That caused me to lift my head involuntarily. How did he know?

“How-“

“Look Stubs, I understand what it’s like to have constant nightmares, ok? I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me about them.” He chuckled, an unamused one with a confused frown on his face.

Looking back down towards my bare feet, trying to keep the tears at bay. But failing at that too, a breathless sob breaks out.

“I just- I just don’t understand why they keep coming back! I mean I’m starting to think-” I cut myself off not wanting to speak into existence. Instead, I shoved my face into my hands. I’m not sure I can keep going with these nightmares, they keep getting worse.

“You’re starting to the think they’re visions.” To which I nodded to. “Are they the same dream or is it a different one every time?”

“It’s a different one ever time, but they always have the same outcome. You said you’ve had nightmares before. How did you stop them?

“Tell you what, if I tell you about my dreams, will you feel comfortable enough to tell me about yours?” Anakin didn’t like sharing his past with anybody, but for the sake of getting his padawan to trust him completely, he would do anything. You gave him a nod, to which he nodded back.

“It wasn’t that long ago actually. It was around the very beginning of the clone wars. They were about my mother.”

“Master-“

“And how she died. I didn’t understand it at the time, but they weren’t nightmares. They were visions.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

“I’m not telling you this so you could feel sorry for me. I told you so you would understand when things like this happen you should talk about it to someone not hold it in, because one day you might be able to save a life.”

“But if it is a vision. . .I fail.”

“Not all visions are set in stone. And they can be almost impossible to understand by yourself.” As he explains he reaches out to gently grab her hands giving them a gentle squeeze.

“They’re about you.” Going back to looking down at my feet.

“What about me?”

“You die. And I’m always to slow to save you.” Looking up to see his expression, he doesn’t look scared if anything he looks amused. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask confused.

“Is it ok if I see it?”

“How can you do that?”

“Easy. Hold still.” After he says that his hands move to the side of my head, our eyes closed , and our foreheads laying on one another’s as he searches for the memories. When he finds them they suck him in deep, so deep he has to take a deep breath to keep himself grounded. Your fear, your pain, your anger. But right before he pulled away, he was able to see where they all started. Guilt flooded through him. He didn’t realize how much he scared you. He pulled away and moved to sit next to you on the bed. He paused for a moment trying to figure out the best way to reassure you.

“Listen, Stubs. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sorry I frightened you. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I was afraid. Everything I was feeling, everything I am feeling is forbidden for a Jedi to feel. And I didn’t want you to look at me any different.” I replied, looking the opposite way shamefully.

“Stub. I am the last person to judge you. I have your back, just like I’m sure you have mine. Whatever I can do to help you, I will do. But I can promise you, I’m not going anywhere. And you don’t have to be scared of that happening anytime soon, or at all for that matter. Understand?”

“Yes, master.” Not giving him time to reply. I threw myself into his side, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He returned the gesture, pulling me into him even more.

“Bed time.” He pulled away, lightly pushing me to lay down, and pulled the blanket over me.

“Master? When’s our next mission?”

“We don’t have any, and we won’t until you’re well rested.”

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know. We won’t be completing any assignments for a while. I requested to take some time off, due to my padawan deciding it’s ok to go into battles with little to no sleep.” He smirked knowingly.

“You knew.”

“Of course I did. Now get some sleep, please.” He replied as he turned to leave.

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

His playful smirked turned into a soft smile. “Good night, Stubs.”

“Good night, master.” I responded as I laid down already half asleep, ready to catch up on all the months that were missed.

A/N: The longest fic I’ve completed, but it had to be done🫡. Proofread, just let me know if I missed an error, I hope you guys enjooyyy.

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

7

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him

I hadn't felt this empty for a long time.

The sensation of dry skin from all the tears shed, the difficulty breathing through my nose, the shortness of breath that struggled to stabilize.

It was like watching a child have a hysterical crisis.

Except I wasn't a child.

I had only experienced a similar pain once before. My mind had erased most of that day, I remembered random images, the fire, the rubble, the smell of burnt flesh, the black hands... small. Still...

I took a deep breath with my mouth open, before focusing on regulating my breathing. I was alone in the cabin, having instructed Sam to check for any tracking devices on the ship and Yord's communicator. The one Sol had given me had already been destroyed, thrown to the bottom of the room in a outburst of rage.

I struggled to get up from the chair, moving slowly toward the small bedroom. At this point, my entire body was aching with a dull pain. I couldn't tell what was real or what was paranoia. At first, I even thought that all this stress might have been too much for the baby. A scan from Sam showed no severe damage, but he wasn’t a medical droid, and I needed to be checked before hiding again.

In the room, I reached the small bathroom with a shower. Sam had already prepared some clothes in a corner. The sight made me smile, yet my heart tightened in a painful grip.

There was nothing sweet about all this. I was miserable.

A wounded animal in need of care. Weak. Physically and mentally.

I turned on the faint lights above the mirror and looked at myself.

It was certainly an ironic scene. Just a few hours earlier, I had been in the same situation on the Jedi ship and then alone in this bathroom, which was very similar to the previous one, but everything was a hundred times worse.

Bloodshot eyes, a swollen, red face, dry skin, streaks of mucus on my chin, lips almost bleeding from how much I had rubbed them with my sleeve and bitten them. The vacant stare, the messy hair... I was ruined.

If I had been honest with myself, maybe I had never been healthy. Not as a Jedi, not alone, not as a Sith. But this was the bottom of the barrel.

The little dignity I thought I had, the pride, the faith... what had they led to?

I undressed slowly, my arms burning with pain, the marks on my skin evident and almost distinct in multiple colors—purple, black, red, blue, and lighter around the edges, the older ones starting to take on a greenish hue. I removed my pants and underwear, then took a deep breath. One hand gently caressing my belly, more tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I held them back.

I needed to stop. I risked harming myself. Even Sam had reproached me for putting too much stress on my body. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was to harm my child before he was even born. It would be just another failure on my part, but I didn't think I would survive the psychological consequences.

I turned on the hot water and waited for the small bathroom to warm up. As soon as the steam began to fill the room, I stepped into the shower under the warm stream. I washed slowly, partly due to my aching body, partly to enjoy a moment of peace. There were many things to do. I couldn't immediately retreat to the farthest corner of the galaxy. I needed to gather healthier supplies, recover my credits from various accounts, ensure the ship was safe from tampering, and check that I had no one on my trail.

Yes, Sam was checking and had been keeping an eye on the ship the whole time, but I couldn’t know if Qimir had gotten his hands on it earlier. Hours had passed, and I was fairly certain he had managed to escape, but he hadn't sent me any messages or tried to contact me through the Force. Everything was too calm.

Maybe he was carefully planning his next moves. After all, now he had a more important reason to keep me close. Five months ago, he hadn't let go, even though he continued his objectives, and time had passed, maybe even with the belief that I would resurface alone. But now, things were completely different.

I knew what he wanted deep in his heart, in his raw and simple desires. Revenge against those who had hurt him. And me. And now our son was indirectly the perfect symbol of his dream, the product of us both as a family, alive and corporeal.

I needed to prepare myself psychologically for what would come next. Even though it was clear my body wasn’t capable of handling it, I struggled to react to his presence. My only option was to flee.

Or if things really went south... I wouldn’t care anymore. I would report him to the Jedi Order if it meant keeping him away from my son. It was already ridiculous trying to help him once, yes, even to protect myself, but everything that came after I could avoid.

I stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat better, though the pain had not subsided at all. Washing away the tears from my face had been therapeutic. I put on a pair of loose pants and a long black robe that reached my knees, deciding to skip the underwear. I had had enough of my miserable hours, feeling the underwire of my bra pressing against my flesh was the last thing I wanted, and no one would notice the lack of underwear.

I wanted to sleep. Lie down and forget everything for a while. But I knew that if I relaxed now, I would open my eyes hours later or worse, not want to get up at all. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

It took me at least five minutes to put on my shoes by myself.

When I finally managed, I opened the bedroom door, with Sam waiting outside.

"Did you check everything as I asked?" He gave a small affirmative nod while handing me the holo pad Yord had given me.

I should have destroyed it. What would I even do with it? Contact him? If he were interested, he would have called me earlier or... no, I was delirious.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I recalled Qimir's words. He was right, I was delirious.

I went back to the cockpit, my backpack waiting on the co-pilot's seat, and with a sigh, I slipped the communicator back in. I tidied up the things I needed, decided to tuck the lightsaber into the large pockets of my pants. Since I would be wearing a cloak, I doubted anyone would notice, but I preferred to carry something familiar. Even if I didn’t use it, it would be enough to scare almost anyone, though I preferred not to show it too much.

We arrived at our destination a few minutes later. The planet was a very popular docking destination, especially for those making long trips, as the surface didn’t offer much entertainment for the inhabitants. The docking area was the main commerce zone, legal or otherwise, with a financial flow so significant that even the Republic turned a blind eye to certain dealings.

The logic was quite simple: there were multiple docking levels, marked with different colors or numbers. At first glance, it seemed just a normal numbering system, but each symbol provided specific information for dockers, and if you were ignorant of the matter, you just had to look at the colors.

Green = legal

Purple = illegal

I landed on a lower level, a purple platform with some tool symbols painted on the side. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and, accompanied by Sam, descended the ramp calmly. My feet cried out in pain, especially after resting for a few hours on the ship, but I ignored the discomfort. I would rest eventually.

From the landing area, there was a narrower path overlooking the void, with lights visible below on the artificial pillar. It made little sense to stop here if one wanted to visit the actual planet. Even though there were means to descend directly, it made more sense to land on solid ground.

As I moved away from the ship, I saw two Togruta approaching me with a tool cart in tow. I pulled my hood over my head and stopped a few steps from them.

“Ma’am” they greeted with a nod, which I returned. I then handed them a pouch with some credits, which they tucked into their pockets.

“I need to buy some supplies, but I have a few doubts. I would like you to check the ship internally and externally for any tracking devices or tampering. If you find something like this, please inform me immediately” They nodded before handing me a small device with two lights.

“If we find anything concerning, we will immediately trigger the red light. We assume that any external device will be destroyed if found...?”

I nodded. "Of course, I expect the utmost discretion" I said, and resumed walking. However, one of the two men called out to me, "Excuse me, if you need supplies, my brother runs a shop on the floor above. Right next to the elevator, yellow sign. He has a bit of everything... even some extras if you ask"

I nodded again, and we parted ways. I reached the elevator and decided to take a stroll to see if I could find anything useful. I gathered some credits in various pouches that I slipped to the bottom of my bag, careful not to be seen, and passed by the shop that had been suggested to me, paying a droid to bring the supplies directly to the ship until I decided to stop at a small restaurant.

A counter overlooked the kitchen, with a dozen neatly arranged tables outside. It had a slightly dated appearance, but it was nice and, above all, quiet.

I ordered something simple, and it arrived quickly since there weren't many customers. I ate while waiting for the signal from my ship. People and aliens of all kinds passed before my eyes, but I could barely focus. I was distracted, confused, and not hearing from Qimir was eating me alive. Was this his plan? To torture me with silence? To wait until I let my guard down or to drive me insane?

As I finished my meal, a female voice from a nearby table caught my attention. "Congratulations" a woman in her fifties smiled warmly at me. I immediately recognized her armor as part of one of the bounty hunter clans scattered throughout space. She gestured toward my stomach, and looking down, I noticed that seated, my belly was quite noticeable due to the shirt that had rolled up around my hips.

I placed a hand on my stomach in a small caress and forced a tight smile. "Thank you." I hoped the conversation would end there, but clearly, the woman wanted to chat. "How many months along are you?"

I held back a sigh. It wasn’t her fault I was irritated, I didn’t want to respond rudely, and it was better not to anger strangers—you never knew how they might react.

"Fifth... almost sixth"

I had also finished eating, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse. I could have gotten up and left, but I wanted to enjoy sitting there as long as I could, I still didn’t know how long it would be before I was called back.

"How lovely, you remind me of my first pregnancy. My husband and I were so happy..." She looked at me as she got lost in her story. She was a beautiful woman with copper-red hair tied up, a few gray strands in the middle, and wrinkles that showed her age, but she was so charming that it was barely noticeable. Not to mention she was clearly a trained woman.

But what was she doing here alone? I recognized the armor well, they were usually in small scattered groups. I didn’t recall seeing anyone else with the same clan symbol on the floor, nor had I seen her talking to anyone before...

A shiver of fear struck me.

She was here hunting someone. And now... she was talking to me... it couldn’t be true? Had Qimir put a bounty on my head so quickly? Or maybe he had contacted some private party he knew and...

"Hey, girl, are you okay? You look pale, do you need a hand? Is there someone with you?"

I gripped the edge of the table nervously, my other hand slowly reaching for the lightsaber in my pocket, Sam at my feet, ready to attack if necessary.

"Are you here for me?" I asked bluntly. If we were going to confront each other, it was better not to beat around the bush.

She looked at me puzzled for a moment, then her face lit up in realization. "Oh, no, sweetheart, believe me, I was just on a break before joining my people and... wait, are you in trouble? Who would send bounty hunters after you?" She gave me a closer look before seeing the glint in my pocket. I hid the lightsaber, but it was too late.

She looked taken aback for a moment before sitting in the empty chair at my table, leaning slightly forward. "Are you a Jedi?!" she whispered. "Oh, honey, how did you get into this mess? The cloak reminded me of something, but I didn’t think it was like this..."

I looked around nervously, but no one seemed to pay attention. "I... it’s complicated" I didn’t feel like correcting her, it was better not to reveal too much information, especially to a stranger. She didn’t seem to have bad intentions, but it was better not to risk exposing myself too much.

She sighed.

"This is what happens when you raise kids away from the world. Tsk. No offense, but I never liked your Order. What happens with kids and then... was it intentional at least?" She asked, indicating my belly.

I shrugged in response. I didn’t want to feel like I was being interrogated by a stranger or, worse, criticized for my choices. The idea of going down and waiting at the docking platform crossed my mind.

She exhaled slowly as she leaned back in her chair. "And him? Another Jedi?" I looked at her from under my hood and nodded. She rubbed her eyes. "Tell me you’re waiting for him here, please."

The indirect mention of Qimir by the woman at this point seemed like just another joke from the Force.

I held back a tear, quickly wiping it away, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the woman. I continued nervously looking at my hands in my lap, Sam beside me, whistling sadly.

There was a few seconds of tense silence before she spoke again. "Listen. Let’s start over. I’m Eleena, and you?"

I told her my name in a faint voice.

"Alright, Sabrina. Do you have a plan? A place to stay? Do you know what to do?"

I nodded. "Do you think the Jedi are looking for you? They don’t seem like the type to chase a pregnant girl, despite everything..."

I sighed, distressed. The whole conversation made me uncomfortable, but I was glad to get a bit of understanding after all this time, especially from someone outside all the Order and the Force’s mess.

"It’s... a complicated matter" I started moving the plate in front of me with a finger in a nervous gesture, continuing not to look at her, afraid of feeling judged. "Okay. Then I’ll ask you another question. Have you had any check-ups recently?"

I cleared my throat. "Last month, I wanted to go here, but I saw I had to register at the counter and other procedures, so I didn’t feel up to it..."

She calmly got up from the chair, hands on her hips. "I know another place here. A man who helps bounty hunters. I’ll take you there, and you get checked out, okay?"

I looked at her in surprise.

Was she serious? Was she really helping me? Could I trust her?

"But why...?" She offered me a hand to help me up. "I told you, I’m a mother too. We should help each other, right? And besides, I’m always happy to stick it to the Jedi"

We walked through the market area, reached the elevator again, and went down two floors to the workers' private area. A guard stopped us, but as soon as he saw Eleena, he made a gesture and let us pass. The area looked more like a really disorganized warehouse, with a few tables scattered around and various people on break eating or dozing in chairs. We reached the end of the corridor and went through a side door. There was a small corridor with white walls and another door at the end.

Eleena knocked, and after a moment of silence, the door opened. A massive man, perhaps around two meters tall, welcomed us and let us in.

It was clear that they knew each other. They exchanged a few words while I looked around, still followed by a curious Sam. The place was a storage room cleaned and reorganized as a medical room. Despite the heavy air, it was... nice.

In the end, I managed to get the check-ups I needed. Fortunately, I was fine, although the droid that gave me a quick scan announced the few bruises on my arms and a high stress level in my body. Eleena gave me an intense look but said nothing. I tried to pay them for their trouble, but the man refused, saying, "Friends of my friends are my friends"... or something like that.

Just in time to receive the signal on the communicator, I could finally board the ship and leave. Eleena decided to accompany me to the landing area. I returned the device and paid extra for some minor repairs that had been done.

"I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t know where else to go. I was thinking of buying a medical droid on the way home" I stopped in front of the ramp as Sam opened the hatch and boarded to check the supplies that had been loaded.

"It’s all right. I’m glad to help, really. The galaxy is already full of assholes, and doing a good deed every now and then doesn’t hurt" I held my hands under my stomach before giving a small bow with my head. "It doesn’t matter. Thank you for everything"

I started to board, but she stopped me. "Listen. I won’t ask for anything else, but I think I have an idea of what’s going on with you. Tell me the truth, it’s just you and the droid, right?"

I bit my lip before nodding.

"Then take this. I don’t care if you use it or not. I feel better knowing you can contact me" she handed me a holo-pad which I took hesitantly. "If you need to kick some Jedi ass, my people and I are here. Even for free, believe me, it would just make us happy"

I looked at her for a few more seconds before pulling off my hood and giving her a gentle smile, perhaps finally more at ease after all the tears shed. "I won’t forget this"

We said our goodbyes, and I finally boarded the ship, reached the controls, and started the engines. The holo-map was lit up next to me, with Sam asking where we wanted to go as he analyzed the various marked locations.

"I don’t know. Maybe somewhere it snows" I whispered more to myself than to him as we flew out of the atmosphere.

[ontherocks21]

Someday I'll Write It:

Lady Vader Part V

The nightmares begin soon after.

Anakin tries to tell her that he's fine. That they will pass in time. That it's just stress and the increasing amount of time he has to spend away from her. Duty calls. More often when one is playing both sides.

She knows he doesn't want to frighten her, but no matter how hard he tries to convince her, she can only hear how hard he's working to convince himself.

The fifth time he wakes bolt upright and screaming, she finally gets it out of him.

"You'll die in childbirth."

Her hands freeze in his sweat-drenched hair, and her blood runs cold. Anakin pulls out of her suddenly intense embrace and flees the darkness of their bedroom. He can't sleep when he's like this, and she understands. Neither can she.

Despite her Emdee's reassurances that "Everything is looking great" (they had ordered the medical droid to be sparing with the details, not wanting to spoil the surprise), despite how utterly nonsensical his prediction of labor fatality is, despite the way she recoils from the suffocating terror constricting her chest, Padmé still feels the ghost of Shmi between them.

For a long while, she lies awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how not to repeat history from repeating itself.

The next morning, she insists on weekly prenatal visits even though routine check-ups are usually scheduled once a month still at this stage of the second trimester. Anakin can't attend them all - Palpatine's iron fist is tightening on the galaxy as is his leash on his apprentice - but the additional reports and the ones he can seem to help him find sleep again.

Until he misses three in a row. Her belly grows larger everyday it seems, and he tells her in a rising panic that he needs to know more.

"I can't schedule any more without raising further suspicion," she says, soothingly stroking his arm. "Bail and Dormé and Mon already have their hands full covering for my absences as is."

"I know, I know," he replies, his brow furrowed and worried. He presses his palm to her navel. "But I need to know."

She doesn't have to ask him to explain. She doesn't have to hear him voice the words he's so afraid to speak.

We need to know who's in there. Who's at stake.

Padmé nods, rolling into him beneath the sheets. He tucks her under his chin, holding their family so tightly against him she thinks he may never let go.

The next visit, the Emdee introduces them to their future.

A boy and a girl.

"Twins," Anakin breathes, his cerulean eyes mesmerized by the holo-sound screen. For one brief moment, the constant undercurrent of tension he wears on his face like a mask he can't shed breaks with a smile.

Padmé's heart swells until she thinks it may burst. She's missed this Anakin, her Anakin. The one who holds hope and light and love in his very soul.

"Twins," Padmé beams back, trying her best to revel in the doubled joy this revelation brings.

And not the doubled reason for fear.

Image Credit: Eli Hyder

[vodika-vibes]

This Love

Summary: In the middle of the war, Dogma's girlfriend's family invites him to their family reunion. And it's just what Dogma needs to push his relationship with his cyare to the next level.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Dogma x F!Reader

Word Count: 1372

Warnings: None

A/N: I was feeling soft for Dogma, so you all get this.

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“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dogma’s gaze flickers from the ticket that he’s holding to the woman leaning against his arm. She’s looking up at him through worried eyes, and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat when he sees her.

Force, I love her so much.

“I am, I promise.” Dogma smiles at her and lightly rubs the worry lines off her brow with his thumb, “You worry over much, mesh’la.”

“I think I have good reason to be worried,” She points out as she lays her head against his shoulder, “I know my grandparents kind of bullied you into this.”

“I’m about to spend a whole month on a tropical vacation with the most stunning woman I’ve ever met, and the whole thing is being paid for by other people.” Dogma lists dryly, “I couldn’t be better if I tried.”

She bumps him with her hip, “It’s not just a vacation, Dogma. You’re going to meet my whole family.”

He laughs and drapes his arm over her shoulder, tugging her properly against his side. “And you’ve met my brothers in the 501st. In fact, I’m pretty sure they spent hours grilling you on your “corrupting” influence before I was able to rescue you.” Ironic, really, seeing as they haven’t even kissed yet.

She squints at him, “Yeah. They did.”

“I am sorry about that. My brothers seem to think that me, and Tup, are still cadets.” Dogma apologizes, again.

“It’s because you’re so cute,” She reaches up and presses her hands against his cheeks, “But you’re certainly no cadet.”

“Thanks for the compliment. I guess,” He replies dryly.

She giggles and Dogma feels a swell of affection for her. He’d do anything for her, she just had to ask. He lightly presses his hands over hers and pulls them away from his face, so he’s able to thread his fingers with hers.

“I do have a question though.”

“Shoot.”

“If we’re taking a private ship to your family's personal planet,” She grins at him, most likely from the disbelieving way that he finished that statement, “Why do we need tickets?” Dogma finishes as he lifts the ticket.

“Security.” She replies cheerfully, “That ticket proves that we’re allowed on the ship. It’s biometrically linked to you.”

Dogma eyes the ticket again, “What, exactly, does the majority of your family do again?”

“Not important!” She tugs him towards the side gate that will bring them to her family’s private ship, “What’s important is that it’s a three-day trip to the island we’re staying on, and we’re the only ones traveling from Coruscant.”

“Wait, what about you’re parents?”

“Traveling from Alderaan.” She replies as she pulls him through the private gate, only pausing long enough to hand her ticket, and Dogma’s, to the massive security droid looming ominously over her.

As soon as the tickets are scanned, the droids back off and she leads him down a long hall, and stops in front of a window that looks out at a private hanger.

The ship might, very well, be the most expensive-looking ship he’s ever seen.

“Are you sure I’m allowed on that ship?” He asks dryly.

She laughs, “It’s just a ship, Dogma.” She turns her bright smile onto him, “People are more important than things to my family. Things can be replaced, but people can’t. Come on.”

“And your family won’t mind that you’re bringing a clone?”

“They’re happy that I’m happy,” She replies as she pushes a button, and the doors to the private hangar slide open. Dogma catches a glimpse of the many suitcases being loaded under the ship, half of which belong to him. “My older cousin is married to a Wookie.”

Dogma blinks and turns his gaze to her, “What?”

“Yeah. She’s very nice. Will rip off your arms if you look at her wife wrong.”

“...The cousin or the Wookie?” Dogma asks.

“Both!” She waves towards the droid that looks like he’s going over the flight plan, and then leads him up the ramp into the ship proper.

If Dogma thought the outside of the ship was fancy, it doesn’t compare to the inside. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that he could hear the sound of the spaceport behind him, he’d think that he just stepped into a luxury hotel.

The floors are carpeted, the walls are covered in wallpaper and fine art, and there’s soft music playing from…somewhere.

“This is a ship?”

“Grandmother likes to travel in comfort.” She taps her chin thoughtfully, “Meals are whenever we want them, and the entire ship is crewed by droids. There are multiple bedrooms and a full sitting room that’s been stocked with the latest holomovies.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this,” Dogma admits.

“I haven’t and I grew up with it.” She lightly squeezes his hand, “This way.” She leads him through the halls, again, and then stops as she reaches a hall lined with doors. She opens the first door and reveals a bedroom with a full king-sized bed and massive comforters. “All of the rooms look like this. So you can take your pick.”

Dogma’s gaze lingers on the bed for a moment, and then he flickers his gaze to her. “Where are you sleeping?”

She shrugs, “I haven’t decided yet.”

He hums thoughtfully and then lightly trails a finger up her arm, “I wouldn’t be opposed to sharing.”

His comment is rewarded with a shy smile and a blush, and Dogma quickly reevaluates his plan.

Originally, he had planned to, well, seduce her while they were in the tropics. But the knowledge that they’re alone on the ship changes things.

A lot.

“You want to share a bed with me?” She asks, looking up at him under lowered lashes.

Dogma laughs softly, “Has that ever been in doubt?” His hand comes up to gently caress her jaw, and then settles on the back of her neck, “The only reason I haven’t brought it up before now is a lack of privacy. For both of us.”

She turns to him and slides her arms around his waist, “I was beginning to worry that you weren’t that interested in me,” She admits and a crooked, almost sheepish, smile crosses her face. “I had a plan.”

“Oh?”

“I was going to seduce you when we got to the island.”

Dogma laughs, his head tilting forward to lightly bump against hers, “I had the same plan.” He admits, “But since we’re alone now—” He trails off. 

He doesn’t have to finish his sentence, as she surges up and catches his lips with hers. Dogma reacts immediately, his arms folding tightly around her to pull her as close as physically possible.

Kissing her is better than he ever imagined, and he imagined it a lot.

He tightens his hold around her, and takes a step backward, into the bedroom behind him. She lets him. More than lets him, she eagerly allows him to direct her towards the bed.

And she giggles as she topples onto the bed, looking up at him with an adoring smile. “Dogma,” His name is a sigh on her lips, “I love you, you know that?”

Dogma grins at her, feeling lighter than he has since the day the war started, “Yeah, cyare. I knew.” He settles onto the bed next to her, reaching out to smooth his hand against her cheek, “I love you too.”

She tugs him down into a kiss, and then shifts so his forehead is pressed against hers, “So,” She murmurs, “Do you think I’ll actually deserve the accusations of corrupting you after this?”

Dogma laughs, “Maybe I’ll corrupt you.” He teases.

“Mm, I look forward to finding out.”

With that, Dogma settles on the bed next to her, and curls his arms around her, lightly burying his face in her neck. “Cyare?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you convince the GAR to give me a month's vacation.”

She just hums and lightly runs her fingers over his hair, “Don’t you worry about that. You’ll understand when you meet my family. For now, Dogma, let’s just watch a holo and cuddle.”

“Whatever you like, cyare.” He mumbles, his voice muffled by her neck.

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[darth-kote]

The Bug Collector - Codywan, (~10.5k words, rated t-m for descriptions of fear and slight violence)

𓇢𓆸

The very first time Cody lays eyes on his general, he also happens to be met with a sharp glean in his visor: a ray of light bouncing off the silk of a spider's web that had been set up in the tree behind the Jedi, similar to the way the rest of Cody's men are setting up camp just east. He's thankful his helmet's over his head so his darting eyes don't act as a dead giveaway to his distraction. First impressions last, the voice of Alpha reminds him, causing him to straighten his back and stand at attention. "CT-2224, Sir." He needs to be good at this, to make his general happy. He doesn't want to think about what Nala Se might do to him if he isn't up to her standards. "Reporting for duty. The rest of the men are unloading the weaponry and setting our post." He maintains his posture, and his eyes never leave the spider for long. That is until his Jedi turns around to face him.

"Ah, good." The man before him had seemed smaller to Cody before; with a brown cloak draped over his figure, he'd been almost formless. But now, the hood has been pushed back, revealing a full head of hair the color of a... well, Cody didn't know what to compare it to. It was unlike any clone Cody had met; he imagined a wild beast would be proud to don the mane. It's like gold and blood and iron. His eyes, oppositely, are like pools – not raging waves, but crystal clear, calm pools. "I've been awaiting your arrival." Cody is brought back to the moment by a kind smile, the sort that has only ever been offered by his little brothers when they wanted his attention. "It's good to meet you, eh.."

"CT-2224." He reminds his general.

And there it is again, that smile. Cody hadn't said anything to earn that, and the sense of confusion must somehow become apparent to his Jedi, as he explains. "I remember the number the Kaminoans gave you, yes. But is there something else you'd like to be called?" Cody understands the prior hesitation now, and he feels like a reject clone for being so slow to compute. Now, though, he is left torn between the fear Nala Se has instilled in him and the Jedi's magnetic draw. It feels like a hand has been extended toward him even though they are still separated by meters. The spider still rests, fat, in its web, and Cody is relieved.

Cody swallows, tipping his chin down in contemplation. He knows the Jedi has no facial features to go by - only his body language, which he is mostly thankful for. The name Cody, Kote... it is something only his brothers call him by, and never within earshot of an outsider. He isn't sure if he should trust the Jedi general so quickly, especially with something so close to his heart. But he figures that if he is blindly willing to die for the man, he'd better kriffing know his name first. He deserves a proper prayer said for him when if he dies, at least. "Cody."

Now, the Jedi's face contorts with a wide, toothy grin. "Beautiful. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cody." The name rolls off his tongue like it's the most natural thing, and it causes something inside the clone's gut to quiver. He's used to the number assigned to him, the awkwardness and mismatch he feels in his bones when someone uses it in conversation – like his body knows the label is a restriction. It feels like what he imagines a restraining bolt to feel like on a droid, intrusive and cold. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," he says and holds out his hand.

Cody gathers the sing-song to be the Jedi's name, and he grasps the held-out extremity without hesitation. He smiles back at the man despite the expression's lack of reception, feeling welcome in every sense of the word.

𓆙

Cody's gut instinct had been right. Obi-Wan has proven himself quite trustworthy to the clones and to Cody himself. He's been the general's right hand for just short of one standard year now, and the battles they've fought together have been hard on both of them. Cody has seen many brothers come and go, just as Obi-Wan has witnessed more Jedi fall than he ever brings up in conversation with Cody. They've deliquesced into a comfortable dynamic nurtured by long meetings in each other's quarters, shared laughter in the depths of hyperspace, and acts of utter selflessness.

Obi-Wan prays over the bodies of Kote's brothers, entertains their questions about his jetii lifestyle, and even encourages them to create a culture of their own. All of this proves he sees them as equals – as living beings that are connected to the Force despite what anyone else might try to have them believe. He once told Cody, to his face and without a drop of hesitation, that he deserves to be humanized. It shouldn't have kept him awake as long as it had the night he'd heard it... but he'd be lying if he said it didn't gain the Jedi his utmost respect. Of course, the Jedi treats just about every living thing with complete care, which Cody never forgets after getting the shab off Geonosis.

"No, no. Sir," He says disapprovingly, helmet cradled in his arm as he enters Obi-Wan's quarters to restrategize for the next campaign. A heavily fortified glass container sits atop the general's desk, and the Jedi is in front of it, watching the contents squirm and thrash intently. Cody chuckles dryly, then, "Tell me I'm dreaming. It's just a... bad dream." He carries on talking to himself, trying to soothe the pit of anxiety that's starting to form in his chest. He's never mentioned his fear of bugs outright; it's pathetic that the Republic's "finest clone" could have a fear as maladaptive as his. Besides, blasters usually made them easier to deal with. The worst is when they (the bugs) come into his territory.

"Not a dream, Cody," Obi-Wan replies, causing a new wave of worry to wash over the clone from head to toe. What if it gets out? What if it bites him? Or worse, his jetii or brothers?

"Don't let your worries get the best of you." Kenobi turns around in his chair, and Cody can see his hair and beard aren't as well-groomed as they might typically be in the war room or when he prepares to speak to the Council. In no way is he a mess (Cody doubts that's even possible.), but he is in a more defenseless state than Cody has ever seen. The marshal commander can tell from the stray flame-like hairs and the verging-on-bloodshot eyes that his Jedi has been sitting over the desk for some time. "This," he motions back to the jar behind him, "is one of the worms used by the Geonosian Queen to... force her will upon her people. I'm sure that if we can return it to Coruscant, research could be done to reverse its effects."

Cody is now squatting low near the wall, his eyes going back and forth between Obi-Wan and the grotesque being beside him. "There's not much difference between us and them, you know." The Jedi's words catch Cody off guard. Sometimes, the general has a way of knowing exactly where his commander's thoughts are. He's heard, time and time again, that the Jedi don't have mind-reading abilities, but when Kenobi pulls something like this, he has a hard time not getting suspicious.

"As far as I'm concerned, we are very different from it. It crawled into... brains, Sir. I saw it, we both did. My brothers they-"

"Weren't themselves, yes." Cody watches the Jedi rise from his chair and waltz to the kettle atop his counter across the room. "I'm not saying they're harmless; nothing alive is. I would just like to have more research done on it, in case something like this happens again. This worm may be the key to similar cases in the future." Cody nods, trying to see from Obi-Wan's perspective.

They both stay quiet for a moment, the only sounds filling the bedchamber being the water starting to boil for tea and the brain worm's slimy squirming. It seems rather docile in the container, but Cody knows that if Grievous were to intercept them, the jar would surely be knocked over and the bug released. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, not wanting to think about what if. He is here, sitting safely on the floor of his general's quarters, back against the wall, armor on, his helmet less than an arm's length away if he were to need it.

"I won't let it out of my sight," Obi-Wan once again breaks his reverie, stepping closer and offering a mug of steaming liquid. Cody has tried it a couple of times, and he prefers caf's stronger bite to tea's mellow kiss, but he is glad to have something in his hands to keep him grounded – to warm his lips, which had started to tingle from the coldness of space. Cody sips it, forcing his facial muscles not to give away his disdain for the beverage, and he makes sure to thank the Jedi standing above him. "I assure you, it'll reach the capital without any of us being harmed." He says it with such conviction that Cody begins to feel the knots in his stomach unravel, just loosely. And there is a lilt in Obi-Wan's tone that causes Cody to feel warm inside, and in a distinct way that is not from the tea. He takes another sip before setting it down to grab his datapad.

Obi-Wan chuckles as Cody glues his eyes to the screen. Something about the general vowing, no matter how indirectly, to protect his brothers and himself... makes Cody feel like a pile of macerated fruit: sweet, sticky, sickly. He reminds himself that any Jedi would do the same, it isn't in their Code to stand by when tragedy strikes, after all.

"Now, then, Commander," Obi-Wan sits on the floor beside him, his datapad and tea in hand. "Let's begin."

𓆨

Cody loves being on Coruscant. It's never been where he sees his future when he's done being a soldier, but he finds it much more endearing than the vacuum he's usually surrounded by. There are people, music, literature. And since the entire planet has been terraformed into a city, there is hardly ever a bug in sight, at least not the non-sentient kind that have a way of immobilizing him in fear. Hardly.

Things reach a breaking point one day when the Commander goes for his helmet and watches a long silver centipede climb up the side and make itself at home within. He retracts his hand as if it had been burned by hot coals, and he backs away from the geometric face he's used to associating with his identity. He doesn't like the juxtaposition, the fear striking him at the thought of approaching a bucket that's protected him from so much.

Cody could admit that he hasn't always been the luckiest man, but this? It's starting to feel like the Force is toying with him.

There's no room in Cody's mind for logic now, and he can feel his heart beginning to pick up its pace. He hates how his body reacts when he sees a measly, killable bug. He wants to be courageous enough to take it outside and set it on the ground like Waxer or Trapper would, or the follow-through to put the creature out of its misery like Hardcase had demonstrated many times when they happened to be on a mission together. He's too cowardly to proceed with gentleness and too empathetic to proceed with malice. Cody sighs, keeping his eye on the helmet as he backs himself into the corner. His comm, luckily, is attached to his armor, and he needs only flick his wrist to reach out to a savior.

"Come in, General?" His breath is shallow, wary that his most minute movement could trigger the crawler to come for him. He feels sweat at the back of his neck. After a moment of static: "Obi-Wan?" It has to be him. Sure, it might be embarrassing to admit the reason for the urgency in his voice, but he couldn't tell a brother. They'd never see him the same; he is supposed to be strong so that they could be too, and he's sure he would no longer be a respectable Marshal Commander if this secret were to reach the lower ranks. Or worse, Nala Se.

An uncontrollable shiver runs down his spine, just as the voice he'd been hoping to hear crackles over the commlink, tinny but familiar. "Cody? I apologize for the delay – Jedi business," the words are so casual that the clone almost forgets his urgent business that needs tending to. "Are you there, Commander?"

Cody shakes himself and feels his muscles tense when he sees the bucket teeter as the centipede's weight shifts toward the visor. He forces himself not to take his eyes away, despite the tide of nausea that rises in his throat. "Yes. I... ran into a bit of a problem, Sir. Would you mind stopping at the barracks?" The quiver in his voice causes him to screw his eyes tightly shut, disturbed by the loss of composure. He feels pathetic and weak, and secretly wishes they were on the battlefield so he could prove that he has the mettle to withstand more than most.

Obi-Wan is silent on the other end for a moment, the ambiance of the Coruscanti streets being the only sound resounding over the speaker. "Of course. In fact, I was already headed there." Cody feels the pressure in his ribcage begin to ease just slightly. He doesn't care to ask what business Obi-Wan was originally coming to take care of; all that matters is that he's en route, and the bug would soon be removed from his space.

When his Jedi does arrive, Cody is still standing firmly in the corner. The door opens without quiet hiss, and the two men meet eyes from across the small room. Cody can see the question on his general's face – the singular cocked brow and his twitching lips are the only signals he needs. At first glance, the room looks completely typical: nothing is knocked around or broken, all of Cody's belongings are still there, and, of course, Cody himself stands unharmed. A flash of what seems like surprise enters the Jedi's eyes as he takes in the sight, as if he had been expecting much worse. "Well," Kenobi begins, a relieved chuckle in his tone, "I've certainly seen you in worse condition."

Cody tries to smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes, which are still flooded with dread. "My helmet," he points to it, hand unsteady, "get it out." It sounds desperate because it is, and he watches the Jedi's face shift into a more curious expression, thick eyebrows knitting together as he steps toward the center of the room.

Cody backs himself into the wall and watches as the Jedi carefully walks toward the overturned bucket. When he's right above it, a flicker of delight enters his eyes, and a smile dances on his lips. Of course. He nearly reaches to touch the kriffing thing but seems to remember Cody's presence because he turns to meet the clone's eyes. "Cody?"

The commander swallows hard, his throat dry and taut; he hates whatever it is in his brain that pulls such a reaction from him. "I'm terrified." His voice is breathy and nearly gone. It's an admission at its core, and Cody feels vulnerable like never before.

"That's why I'm here." The statement is matter-of-fact as though it is Obi-Wan's sole purpose to save Cody from his fear. He takes an empty jar from the counter, tilting the helmet slightly and calmly until the centipede topples over due to gravity, its legs and antennae nearly indistinguishable as they tap on the glass. As soon as it's in the jar, a lid is secured on top. "I'll release her in the garden. She'll serve us well there. Better than in here, surely." He smiles and looks through the convex glass with what seems to be admiration.

Once his curiosity has been quenched, he slips the jar into the folds of his robe and turns to face his commander again. Cody is silent. The Jedi had made it look so easy. Probably because it is easy. Cody is the outlier here, not everyone else. He is humiliated at how he'd behaved, and even more so because he still wouldn't deem his helmet safe to wear if anyone were to ask. A thorough cleaning will certainly be in order once he is alone again. He feels ashamed and frustrated. "Thank you," is all he says.

Instead of accepting the words at face value, Obi-Wan offers a hand to the man. "We all have something we're afraid of, Cody. But you mustn't let your fear rule you. It's no way to live." The words are brimming with understanding, and it makes Cody wonder what it is the Sith-slaying jetii could possibly be afraid of.

Rather than prying, he somberly takes the Jedi's hand and queries, "How do I overcome it?" He's warmed by the smile that is given in response. Obi-Wan guides Cody to sit at long last.

"You won't like what I have to say," Obi-Wan shifts his weight and crosses his arms, looking at Cody with a sliver of a challenge in his eyes. "It takes being around the things that fill you with fear to overcome them – realizing the endless possibilities in your head cannot all occur in reality. It's something we Jedi focus on heavily in our training. Allowing fear to rule encourages the Dark Side to prevail. You see, our fears can lead us to impulsivity, greed, and suffering. When we overcome them, we can make decisions with a clear mind and heart."

Cody understands. Or at least he thinks he's beginning to.

A yawn suddenly erupts from his chest, the cortisol thrumming through him. He looks around, a last defensive move, to make sure no other bugs have made their way inside somehow.

"I'll leave you to rest," the general smiles, his hair tousled handsomely. As he makes his way toward the door, just as it slides open at his suggestion, he leaves Cody with this: "If you should need my heroics again, Commander, don't hesitate." And then the room lost all its warmth, just the barracks of another sad soldier.

𐀔

Cody takes a deep breath in as he looks out over the rolling green hills and valleys of Kiros before him. The Togruta colonists, now safely out of Separatist hands, are being trained in basic combat by none other than Cody and his brothers. Whether it is by their own choice or the Republic's, the marshal commander isn't sure, but he's glad to know he won't be leaving them defenseless.

He has been on planets similar to Kiros before, practically unaltered by the people who inhabit them, although it is rare for him to have the downtime to explore his surroundings. He usually does so only to gain intel or perform recon. It's typically a strategic necessity alone. But before and after training, which finishes in the early evening, Cody finds he is free to fill his time however he chooses.

The thing is, he's never been granted this freedom before, and if he isn't careful, he might find himself standing in one spot for hours just contemplating his next move. The vacant holes in his schedule could be debilitating, but he quickly fills his time with busy work and solo missions of little actual importance.

Before any of his brothers, he rises with the star on the eastern horizon, much before their designated hours thanks to the planet's axial tilt. He's grateful to have a tent to himself when, by the second week, he doesn't stop waking in a cold sweat, the tendrils of his nightmare lingering in his mind. The ghostly sensation of some insect crawling over his skin cannot be erased from his memory.

He doesn't attempt to go back to sleep like he had done the first several nights. Why suffer with the silence and his rampant mind when there was plenty to distract him outside?

He rises from his cot and glances at the reflection of his face in the visor of his helmet as he passes it; he won't go without it, but first, caf. He taps the button on the dispenser settled atop a crate, the smell of the brewing beans making him instantly more alert.

On this particular day, he plans to trek across the river surrounding the Togruta settlement to explore the bank and nearby plains; he wants to be sure no Separatist weaponry or droids have been left behind. At least that's the make-believe errand he's assigned himself since he doesn't operate well without one.

Once his tin cup is empty, he sets it upside down to drain like he does each morning whether on Coruscant, The Negotiator, or even Kiros, apparently. He slips his bucket on, the world muffling as the last of his senses are stripped away, then steps into the foggy morning air. Training would not take place since the colonists have decided to spend the day mourning those whose lives were stolen from the galaxy not so long ago. The Jedi and the Clones agreed it was the least they could do to give them space to grieve, though the latter's opinion didn't much matter to the Republic when deciding how its property would be utilized. Fortunately, Obi-Wan's position in the Council had swayed the Chancellor's the Senate's decision to give them all a day of rest.

The clouds hang low as Cody moves through the camp, his brothers sleeping bodies all around him. It is undeniable that he feels responsible for them and assumes the role of their protector with no hesitation, but it also feels nice to know they are all safe and that his wandering off for a few hours at most would do no damage. He deserves it, though it is difficult to remember that fact at times.

Snoring and the creaky shifting of weight begin to ebb into the ambient sounds of the planet granting them fleeting sanctum from the war. Cody is thankful - if not for himself, then for his brothers and their jetii. They deserve a moment of relative peace.

As he follows the dirt path that leads outside the perimeter of the colony, he notices the birds of the planet are perched in the trees above his head, their sleepy cooing not yet turned to morning chirps. He appreciates the colors of their feathers, the purples and blues of which he had no knowledge to draw from to make a fair comparison. He allows himself to lean into the small smile blossoming over his face as he continues to walk on, the moat-like river's babbling becoming louder with each step.

When he pushes through a final stretch of overgrown grass and comes to the water's edge, he surveys his surroundings like any good soldier. The river flows quickly, splashing the banks and wetting the top of his boot, but he knows it is not strong enough to keep him from crossing. He ensures his blaster is safely secured to his person before stepping into the current.

He can feel the water pushing against the plastoid as he takes slow, steady steps, and it flows freely into his armor once the gaps above his calves and thighs are below the waterline. Despite the shocking cold, Cody grits his teeth and trudges through the lapping stream until his knees hit the opposite bank. He turns around and rests awkwardly on his backplate until most of the water has vacated his suit. He stares at the sky, the dark greens and grays beginning to bleed into a sobering yellow. He stands with the rallying of the sun.

Once firmly on his feet, he begins to search the ground for any mines or other traps possibly placed by Separatists and never removed or detonated. He goes on for a few meters, spotting nothing, which he'd expected. Dooku had taken what he came for and left. This is simply Cody's excuse to wander.

He comes to the cliff's edge, and he feels beckoned closer until he can crane his neck to see directly below. The land is ripe and green. He muses about how his stomach remains unflinching despite the drop he could take at any moment, while an arachnid or any of its peers would send chills down his spine. He stares out over the precipice longer than he'd allow if he were on a mission with his brothers. But now, as Kiros' sun lends its warmth to the dirt and animals, he removes his helmet and takes a deep breath in, savoring the crisp air as it enters his lungs unfiltered.

It's then, as his peripheral vision is filled in, that he sees a distant hunched silhouette to his right, veiled by high-growing flora and the fading morning mist. The brown cloak, down on the figure's shoulders and hanging like a crescent down its back, reveals a muss of red hair. Cody's heart leaps into his throat, wanting to call out the Jedi's name instinctively. He fights the urge and instead makes his way quietly toward where the man sits, settled on a rock beneath a shady tree with his legs crossed. He doesn't intend to surprise him – assumes it to be impossible. He is instinctively pulled toward his Jedi's presence and wishes to be nearer, by some logic he doesn't quite understand. Perhaps it's because he is one of the only people to treat his brothers and himself with any consideration.

Perhaps it has something to do with the Force. He doesn't question it, opting to blindly follow orders instead.

He leans against the trunk of the tree, the twisted bark something Cody has never seen before. But the sight he truly cares about has nothing to do with the vegetation. And the sight below the cliffs has long been forgotten.

He stares unashamedly at Obi-Wan, remembering other times he has seen the man in the same position. In most instances, Cody had walked into the general's quarters to find him on the floor, unmoving and absolutely focused. On what, he never knew, nor did he venture to ask. His facial muscles always seem relaxed when he is in this state, and the beauty of it is something Cody has never craved to disturb. Each time, he retreats to the bed or the kitchen chair as he gives the Jedi space to rouse on his own, sometimes dozing off to sleep as he waits, but prepared to work when his name is spoken in that familiar soothing timbre.

Standing here now, he takes shallow breaths, almost afraid he will give his presence away if he inhales too greedily. He feels like he's watching something private while still struggling to find the strength to look away. He wonders if Obi-Wan can feel his eyes on him, has since the first time he caught him like this. Something in Cody knows it's useless to ask, just something his ego brings up to numb the guilt of partaking in such intimate acts as watching his Jedi for a summation of hours. To convince the shame to recede, he tells himself that the purpose of his creation had been to keep an eye on the man, to protect him; for he is a key element to the Republic's agenda.

He feels a hot blade of frustration slice through him at the realization that the man leaving the camp had not been on his radar. Especially at such hours, when no one was awake to accompany him. Perhaps the nightmare hadn't been such a nuisance since it had led him to discover Obi-Wan.

A shift in movement between them catches Cody's eye, and he forces himself to look down to see the abdomen of a plump bee sticking out from the center of one of the horn-shaped flowers scattered about the meadow. Its striped orange and black coloring is like a bright ember against the bruise-hued flowers it swims in. The commander's heart rate spikes helplessly, and he freezes like he has since Geonosis.

"Breathe, dear," Obi-Wan's voice, as Cody has come accustomed to, pulls him back to the world around him and out of his mind. His eyes remain on the pollinator as it dances from flower to flower, her sistren nowhere to be seen. At least it's not an entire swarm. The voice of his Jedi, ever calm and guiding, fills Cody with a warmth no sun could compete with. Despite the wretched bug before him, he tears his attention away from where it rests to find those blue eyes piercing into him as if they were made from the same power source as the lightsaber stowed at his hip, not mere mortal cells. He sighs in relief at the sensation that washes over him.

"Come, sit with me." It isn't said in the tone he chooses on the battlefield, but Cody knows an order when he hears one. He maneuvers around the bug and its feast, not wanting to disturb it and get a stinger in his throat or temple. The thought of it dying afterward terrifies him more. The bee drifts closer to Obi-Wan, who watches Cody sit on the stone before him, ignoring the buzzing creature beside him. They are across from one another, but the Jedi is settled above him like a prince among his people, a lecturer with his students. Cody feels a surge of submission, something he is not used to. He knows Obi-Wan sees him as a worthy partner in the combat zone, but he'd have to admit how difficult it is not to feel like a shiny all over again under the other man's gaze. He glances down to study a patch of moss that has grown attached to the boulder supporting his weight.

"See, you've nearly forgotten her already," he smiles and waves his right hand toward the bee, bumbling about in the flowers. "She wants nothing from us, and neither we from her." Cody likes being grouped in with Obi-Wan. "She gets her meal, and we're able to meditate. Harmoniously." The Jedi looks around the space as if there is something Cody isn't seeing.

"Meditate, General?" The word has been used by the jetiise throughout his time around them, but it never held much meaning to Cody. "Is that what you were doing?" His mind returns to the image of Obi-Wan with that tranquil expression.

"Indeed. It's pertinent that we Jedi take the time to clear our minds and refocus. Of course, it's not just us who can practice. Anyone can benefit from quietening the mind..." He trails off like he's thinking of someone else who could use such a practice, and Cody detests the brief but unmistakable burn of jealousy he feels at not being at the forefront.

"Would you ever want to try?" It's what he'd hoped to hear, and now that it's on the table, he's quick to help himself.

Cody nods stiffly, cautious but eager not to disappoint – to be better than whoever had just been on his Jedi's mind. Ideally, traitorously, he'd like to be the only thing on the man's mind. He forces his eyes to stay steady on Obi-Wan. He focuses on the sepia speckles that adorn the jetii's cheeks and nose bridge, noticeably darkened due to the prolonged terrestrial stay. Cody blinks slowly, burning the sight into memory for when they'd return to space and the freckles would go pallid again.

"It's nothing too complex," Obi-Wan begins, his tone becoming that of a wise monk. "Start by closing your eyes." Cody appreciates the air of gentleness and straightens his back instinctively at the words of direction, eyelids clumsily falling shut, the muscles refusing to relax without a fight. Without sight, he can't help the consternation that rises to his ribcage; he only ever closes them to rest to fight the next day. He wouldn't be Marshal Commander of the Galactic Army of the Republic if that weren't the case. And Obi-Wan's recommendation for him to be in the position was enough proof for Cody.

"Perfect."

The word hangs around them for some time, and Cody's mind performs an instant reboot trying to process it. No one's ever used that word concerning him or anything he's done. He knows the Jedi - his Jedi in particular - have a way with words, and he tries to dismiss it as null and void, a mind trick to get Cody to continue complying with this so-called meditation. He inhales, a shaky effort that nearly fails.

"Keep breathing, Cody." He follows orders and exhales before taking another breath in. He tries not to wonder whether Obi-Wan's eyes are also shut, or if he is vigilantly watching his commander do as he says. Then, "Focus on the feeling of your lungs expanding and contracting without effort."

He has never attempted to zero in on something as infinitesimal as his breathing. Even when his helmet's on, the amplified sound of his new ventilation system is consistently overshadowed by what he sees through his visor.

But the trust he holds for Obi-Wan overrides all Kaminoan programming, at least momentarily, and Cody does as he's asked. He breathes in deep to the point his lungs ache beneath his muscles and bones, the dull sort of pain that reminds him he's alive, organic.

A breeze washes over the field, causing the tree's leaves to rustle like an ancient lullaby. The clone exhales as the wind tousles the short-cropped curls ornamenting his head, an unfamiliar but welcome sensation. "Feel what is here and now. The rock holding you up, the wind on your skin." Cody isn't sure, having no visual cues to confirm his suspicion, but he thinks he hears a smile in the general's words.

The thought flees as he mentally reaches out and focuses on the stone's coolness; his perfect posture falters helplessly as his mind unwinds. There's nothing but right here, in this moment with Obi-Wan, who echos this sentiment when he speaks. "There's nothing here for you to fret over, nothing to fix or fear."

Cody's eyebrows twitch as he digests what has been said. Obi-Wan doesn't rush into another teaching point and lets the man sit with the blade of his words plunged into his chest. Cody doesn't know what it means not to scan for tasks that need completing or enemies that require defeating. He feels a tightness in his chest that could rival the grip of a Sarlacc, and an unexpected wetness burns at his lashes.

He isn't sure what the tears mean, and the confusion only draws out a few more. He refuses to open his eyes, remembering the first instruction he'd been given: breathe. He parts his lips, and a breath stumbles through his airway.

As he breathes out softly, he's brought back to the moment and away from the tempest of emotions swirling within. The bee's buzzing has come to a respite, softly emanating what Cody imagines is contentment. He tenses slightly but once again goes back to what Obi-Wan was putting so much effort into teaching him.

He remembers the rock, the breeze, the Jedi before him. The bee is nearly forgotten. His shoulders sag without thinking, the scar on his face shiny with rebirth. He believes he can smell the undertones of the flora, sweet and subtle.

"You're safe. Let the things you notice pass." The discipline finally begins to ease. Obi-Wan doesn't have the same expectations the Kaminoans do, not in this time and place. "You are the only constant, Cody." The tone slips into something personal, so the marshal commander's imagination convinces him, and it compels his heart to clench. He feels it now, an anchor tethering him to this moment - an undeniable focus on the serenity of the man commanding him.

Time passes unnoticed as Cody loses himself in the exercise, a newfound clarity falling over him. The war is distant from this sliver of the galaxy, forgotten and nonexistent; it's just Cody and Obi-Wan. Not even the bee had made it over the threshold with them. He focuses for so long and hard that at some point he realizes he's aware of the Jedi's breathing pattern - the rise and fall as predictable as any moon's. He envisions their breaths being connected, flowing in through one set of lungs as quickly as it exits the other pair, a balance unspoken and natural.

Selfishly, Cody wishes he could remain in this state for the rest of time - or at least until the primary sun Kiros orbits stops burning and folds into a black hole. Logically, externally, he knows his time here is limited - his brothers, the Togruta, and millions more just like them all depended on Cody for something. They're all alright, he thinks, probably still sleeping soundly, not far away. But Cody is still new to releasing control over anything let alone everything.

"How do you know when it's time to stop?" His voice is lower than he intends, nearly breaking like back in his days as an inexperienced cadet. The only real differences now are that scar carved into the side of his face and countless fallen brothers. Hidden deep below his guts and armor is that same irrational, untrained boy.

"You can stop whenever you feel overwhelmed," Obi-Wan states gently, judgment nowhere to be found. "Open your eyes when you need to," he suggests, and Cody does so immediately. He thought it would be like waking from a rare dream and all the peace he'd started to feel would disappear into nothing. He is pleasantly surprised it's not that way at all. He feels lighter than he has in far too long; his mind flashes helplessly back to Geonosis before a deep breath comes in to tame the memory.

He offers a smile of gratitude to his general, who he now notices has a hand half-extended toward the commander's armored one. "Sir?" Had Cody cut his chances of receiving a touch by opening his eyes so quickly?

"I apologize," the jetii practically spits out the phrase, his tone making it clear how honest it is. His hand retracts to rest on his knee like when Cody first joined him. He swears he sees a rose color creep up the man's neck and cheeks as his eyes engage in a careful dance of avoidance.

No. Cody doesn't want to be avoided; he doesn't want to stumble around alone and afraid forever. He knows Obi-Wan won't try it again now that the moment has "passed." But life isn't a neatly edited holo-vid or a novel; it's a messy, complicated, painful battle at times. It requires bravery to get through - stubbornness and determination. Whatever word you choose, Cody doesn't care at this exact moment.

He breathes in and physically reaches out, bursting through the seams of everything he's ever been taught. His hand tenderly rests on the one Obi-Wan had pulled away, the latter's bare knuckles caressing the underside of Cody's gloved palm. It's the most intimate touch they've ever shared, and Cody doesn't require that it ever happen again. He feels blessed that the other man hasn't ordered him to fall back, and he isn't ready to push for more.

Instead of paying mind to the apology Obi-Wan had offered, Cody gives thanks to the man. "You have no idea how much you've done for me." He pauses, trying to find the words. He was specifically designed for war - for death and destruction. He could recite the BlasTech Industries leaflet that had been provided with his DC-15A blaster rifle instantly if someone ordered it because that made him useful. Knowing how to take down hundreds of droids in one fell swoop, how to plan and execute strategies that have earned the Republic victory after victory: these are tasks he was designed to perform well. Emotions, on the other hand, are much more gruesome.

He wants to tell Obi-Wan about the nightmares plaguing him each night or go even further and describe how he hasn't been able to truly relax since the burning red sands of Geonosis bound him to fear. He wants to tell Obi-Wan that he is the one who makes all of it more bearable. "I feel lighter," is where he settles. He nods as he says it, recognizing the truth in the statement.

An unsteady breath escapes him. His eyes are locked onto his Jedi, knowing that much of what Obi-Wan wants to say at any given time can be read through his eyes and actions. The man's face has softened again, eyebrows cocking incrementally with interest, beard twitching from the smile it works to conceal.

"Well, we could make a habit of it - together. It's helped me many times, and Anakin too, if you'll believe it. I know it's daunting when it's new, but you did so well, Cody." The clone easily follows the string of words, filled equally with attempted diversion and outright praise. He feels his flesh get warmer. His blacks are suddenly suffocating.

"I think that would be helpful," he says as he unclenches his jaw, almost afraid to let the full extent of his enthusiasm be known. He glances back down to where their hands meet. Though it may never reoccur - or perhaps for that exact reason - Cody begins to rub a small oval into the thenar muscles in his Jedi's hand. He silently hopes his general will feel the difference the next time he wields his lightsaber. He expects nothing in return; all he's received from the man has been more than enough.

ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

Something feels wrong.

Cody stands under the cover of a plant he's never seen before this campaign. It towers like a spindle into the sky, the underside incandescing bright purple. There are hundreds more like it all around him, like a forest of tentacles or insectoid legs emerging from the dirt to trap him there like prey. Umbara is a planet of utter darkness other than the few bioluminescent lifeforms that have evolved with it; Cody is certainly not one of them. Luckily, the night vision built into his helmet is getting him through.

He grits his teeth and tilts his head to glance at Obi-Wan, a few meters to his right in a similar anticipatory stance. His lightsaber is disengaged to minimize foreign lighting that would give their position away. He worries about how limited the jetii's vision might be, knows his general is probably rather unperturbed by the matter. He trusts Cody not to leave him behind in the darkness, just as he would if their situations were reversed.

The rest of the men are closer to the perimeter of the capital city, ensuring no straggling Umbaran soldiers are lying in wait before they begin their assault. The general and commander follow not far behind to cover their tail. Although nothing stands out to him as he listens to his surroundings, Cody can't help the unease that rises in his chest. A deep breath enters his lungs through his ventilator, grounding himself to the present. Focus.

Obi-Wan nods in silence in the direction the rest of their men have headed, signaling that they should keep moving. Cody forces himself to let go of the last of his concerns for Waxer and his platoon; he must trust that they will see each other again on the other side of this long and treacherous battle. Instead, he brings his attention back to where the Jedi's thermal signature had just been through his visor, now another patch of darkness. His heart drops into his stomach, and a splinter of fear pricks his mind at the loss of the man.

"General?" He asks through his commlink before slowly crawling forward through the brush. The sounds of artillery fire descend upon the landscape as his men engage the enemy somewhere further north, distant but near enough Cody feels stuck.

Before he can rationally decide what to do next, an ear-splitting scream rattles through his comm and pierces deep through his armor and into his bones. He knows exactly what it is before he sees it, and the grunt of his jetii that follows right after forces Cody's legs to sprint forward to find where the man had gone. His boots sink into the gray-tinted dirt without thinking, the previous worries about all the vines and Vixus now residing in favor of being brought back to Obi-Wan, who he can hear panting in exhaustion.

Just then, he breaks into a small clearing, the shadows seeming to garner an unfathomable amount of mass. The flora here is impossible to make out, seeming like monsters a child would imagine in the darkness of their closet. The only light comes from the beast pinning his jetii to the ground. The banshee is huge, nearly covering Obi-Wan's entire body with its own. Its biological lighting is green in a way Cody despises, nothing like the lightsabers he's seen some other Jedi carry. It makes him think about the lower levels of Coruscant or a radioactive spill tainting the molecular basis of everything it touches.

Its wings are splayed out around it as if attempting to lift the general's body, but something has stopped it in its tracks. It makes snarling rabid sounds as its mandibles extend and try to shred the flesh of Kenobi's face. Cody freezes as he takes in the scene before him, and he catches sight of the general's face contorting with effort. His hair is a mess around him, sweat beading on his brow. It's now that he realizes the Jedi must be calling on the Living Force to keep the creature at bay.

Even in a moment like this, where his life is being threatened so short of notice, he is able to focus enough not to let his fear overtake him, and Cody will never stop admiring it. During the beginning of the war, he had dismissed the man as reckless, and he has kicked himself for it many times since. Now, though, he tries to take a page from the Jedi's book.

He reaches for his blaster rifle, knowing he can't leave Obi-Wan to fight the thing alone any longer. But his hand doesn't land on the metal of his weapon. It continues to swing through the empty air until returning at his hip. He nearly cries out when he feels it isn't at his side. How had it fallen and he not notice? Kriff, perhaps Nala Se should recall and retire him after all. He panics, unsure how to get the banshee to leave his Jedi besides possibly offering himself as bait.

He can hear Obi-Wan's voice, all those months ago now on Kiros, "Breathe, dear."

He isn't sure if it's just a memory surfacing organically in his time of need, or if it's the jetii influencing his mind, but he finds that he doesn't care either way. He does as the Jedi always reminds him and breathes.

There is a metallic hint to the air that enters his lungs and swirls about - different, but nothing he can't get used to if that's what's needed. There is nothing but him in this brief moment, and he is reminded by the Force that he has made it through worse than a banshee and a few shadows. Obi-Wan has survived worse, and with Cody's help, he'll survive this too.

He opens his eyes, not noticing that they'd fallen shut; he remembers a time when he'd stare at a caterpillar or another similar bug for hours when he was particularly on edge and too mortified with himself to ask someone else to handle it. He inhales through his nose; the past does not exist, only now.

He assesses his options, and wonders if he should comm for backup; he knows he won't distract his men for anything. He considers jumping on the creature's back, but he despises the idea of touching it or being carried away to be mauled and eaten alive. Then he sees it, the sheen of the banshee's light reflecting off that cool metal he's had in his hand many times thanks to his general's constant running head-on into the next problem needing to be solved. Cody has always made sure to retrieve and return it to its brandisher.

Now, he bends to wrap his hand around the saber, engaging the crystal without a second thought as he straightens his spine.

He feels a power surge through his body that not even his blaster had ever made him feel. The blue light emanates from the blade like a celestial spirit in his hands, and it causes all the shadows that had surrounded them to recede. The beast trapping Obi-Wan screeches as if its putrid heart has somehow been filled with terror for the first time. Cody chokes on empathy, imagining the beast sitting with that feeling he knows intimately well.

He steps forward, swinging the saber out in front of him, a defensive pose that he hopes will send the banshee running takes over his muscles instinctively. He's never wielded a lightsaber or any other longsword, but he's watched Obi-Wan in battle enough times to be able to imitate some of his confidence.

When the creature remains on top of the general, claws on either side of his head, Cody knows he won't be able to spare its life. He sways the sword, the sounds of it cutting the air almost as comforting as the voice of his Jedi, though not quite as sweet. He swears he feels a swell of pride surround him, choosing not to dwell on how it hadn't come from within. He raises the blade with both hands gripping the hilt, its light dancing across his features as he swings down hard and fast.

Another scream enters his ears, one of pain and regret and death. Cody can't distinguish whether the sound is from the insect or himself. The banshee's leg is sliced clean in half at the joint. Blood and gristle are cauterized by the heat of the blade - even the chosen weapon of the jetiise offers some mercy. The creature wails in presumed agony, losing its balance and falling to the side like a spider-roach sprayed with pesticides. It thrashes and its wings shake, the ordeal more than Cody's senses can handle.

He forces himself to move around it and pull his Jedi out of its reach, the lightsaber having been disengaged but still in his palm. When they're a safe distance away from the bug, Cody finally looks into his general's face. His hair is wet with sweat close to his scalp, utterly exhausted from the Force work. The commander wants nothing more than to tear his helm away from his face and nuzzle into the jetii's temple. He wants to press his lips there and sob a disorderly, chest-racking sob.

Soldiers don't do such things, though, so he settles to press a thumb into the other man's beard. It's a light touch, almost ghostly, and he wishes they were back on Kiros more than ever before.

The Jedi's eyes flicker to his saber, still resting in Cody's right hand. He notices, sitting up and holding it out to the man it belongs to. He feels a jolt of pride as he looks at it, eyes adjusting to the darkness now that the fight has concluded. But it's mixed in with a sense that he'd done something very wrong, like taking a brother's bucket and wearing it as his own.

"Thank you, Cody," his Jedi speaks quietly, his fingers latching around the marshal commander's wrist instead of the lightsaber. Cody swallows at the sensation, aware they should keep moving despite what they've just endured. He nods silently before remembering Obi-Wan's lack of sight.

"Of course," it doesn't exactly translate all of the emotions in his heart, but it does enough for now. At least he thinks so until Kenobi starts to offer him praise after praise.

"This is more than a weapon, Cody," his hand twists to tighten their grips around the helve simultaneously, "and not everyone who wields one knows when to quell their power. You're disciplined in ways the Kaminoans can't comprehend." His tone is admiring, proud. The touch, the words - Cody feels like he'll melt into the dirt below if the Jedi gives him anymore. He can hear and feel his heart pounding against his sternum like a prisoner in Citadel Station, desperate for escape.

He nods and moves his other hand to rest on top of where the two men meet at the lightsaber; it's the thanks he can't vocalize. Obi-Wan's expression is steady whereas Cody's feels unsure and stiff, and he appreciates how understood the jetii always makes him feel. No matter the layers of darkness, armor, and social conditioning (or lack thereof), he appreciates how Obi-Wan always looks at him like a person. He never looks at him like the test-tube experiment gone wrong he often feels like.

"Now, how about we join our men?" General Kenobi asks, that resilient smile creeping over his lips. "They'll be needing our expertise soon, I'm sure." It's an attempt to bring Cody's mood up, and the clone can't help the curt chuckle at the Jedi's cockiness that rears its head more than is technically appropriate for someone so dedicated to the Order. Of course, none of the clones complain; they've learned many of their favorite witticisms from the jetii, and Cody finds it endearing to hear his brothers try to replicate the general's delivery.

He stands first, then pulls Obi-Wan up with little effort since their hands are conveniently clasped together over the lightsaber, which subsequently goes back to its owner.

Both standing, Cody is overwhelmed with relief that he'd been able to do what had been needed to keep the other man alive. He almost goes down the terrible path in his mind that would make him wonder about all the things that could have gone wrong. He manages to catch himself before spiraling out of control, shaking his head and taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts.

As they slip back into the Umbaran flora, Cody follows his general's lead, his gaze firm on the nape of the other man's neck.

𓇙

The suns hang high in the sky, beating down on Cody with relentless heat. He welcomes the burn as he studies the stark shadow of his hand against the eroded stone of Obi-Wan's abode, the darkness of his fingers caked with an off-white plaster. His breathing is coming and going in a steady pattern, only because he has carefully labored it to be that way, helping to keep his mind focused on patching the cracks in the wall.

From the corner of his eye, he sees something dark scuttle a path through the harsh sand. He looks down to find a scorpion rushing by his boot, glinting like a blood-drenched jewel. He narrows his eyes against the particles floating in the wind, watches as the arthropod finds sanctuary in the crevice of a nearby boulder.

He remembers the voice of his general, all the lessons he'd been given. He's ached for that guidance for far too long, and it makes his chest tighten at the memories he's been struggling to keep oppressed since the last time they were face-to-face. Utapau. Order 66. His skull still aches in the spot where it'd been sawn open to remove his implant, his curls starting to grow back to conceal the new scar. He's not used to the silence of his own thoughts without those four haunting words underlying them. Good soldiers follow orders.

A deep breath fills his lungs; his attention is brought back to the task at hand. He fills another fissure in the wall with plaster, smoothing it with the pads of his fingers - he makes sure to be diligent with his work, having no other way to make himself useful in this place. Though things have undeniably changed, Cody can't help the yearning for their bond to return despite having no way to earn it back. He and Obi-Wan had once trusted each other blindly. Yet he had given his brothers the go-ahead to shoot him down; the rather benign nightmares about insects have been replaced with the memory of that day, and Cody knows it's deserved. He is the one who had shattered things while knowing their already-delicate nature.

He risks a glance to his right, finding Obi-Wan kneeling in the nearby shade provided by a makeshift awning, eyes closed, and muscles relaxed. He's meditating. Of course, he is. It's not quite the same as before the fall of the Order, but then again nothing is. His beard is full and a tad scraggly, not having access to the razors, mirrors, and gels he used to take advantage of, and his hair is longer than Cody's ever seen it. He swallows hard as the guilt washes over him like a wave, wondering uselessly if any of this would exist if it weren't for his weakness. He returns to his assignment on the wall, focusing on each breath entering and exiting his lungs.

During the night, the two sit in the confined kitchen of the desert home. A pot of soup simmers over a fire; it isn't a lot, but it's flavorful and comforting compared to the rations Cody's eaten practically his entire life. Their dishes rest on the table as the men sit across from each other, the winds outside audible from where they reside.

"What did I tell you?" The Jedi smiles as he listens to the sound of active weathering, bringing Cody's attention away from the grain in the wood of his spoon. He'd been focusing on trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb the nightly routine of the other man, so it takes him a second to catch up to the conversation.

"Oh," he says, his mouth falling open before closing again. "The sandstorms. Is it a nightly thing this time of year?"

"Most nights, sadly. It's a pain if the walls aren't tended to properly," he sips his soup - choosing to forgo the spoon - which is no longer scalding from the fire. Cody remembers the man's predilection for food on the colder side, and it comforts him to see that hasn't changed. "I've not had the energy recently." The jetii looks down into his bowl, an almost bashful look on his face. Cody recognizes a roundness to the man that hadn't been there during the war, a rosiness to his cheeks when he came home from the market with new fruit for Cody to try that morning. The clone has only been here for a month at most, and Cody can't deny the ease with which Obi-Wan seems to be settling into his new life. Something he can't yet say for himself.

Of course, there had been much time in between, which Cody had not been here for. He doesn't know exactly what Obi-Wan is going through or how he's dealing with it, but he's pleased to hear him laughing more than he ever did during the war. His brow furrows because he remembers thinking neither of them would be able to laugh again after everything that happened.

"Thank you for taking care of it." It's said in such a measured tone that Cody can't pretend to mishear or misinterpret it.

He jerks his chin down toward the table, "Of course, General." As soon as it slips off his tongue, he wants to throw himself into the fire their dinner is cooked on and keeps their bodies warm at night. He expects a scolding - the Empire likes dealing those out much more swiftly on the clones than the Jedi had - but one does not come.

"I don't know how many times I have to remind you to call me Ben before it sticks." A toothy grin lets Cody know he's not in too much trouble, but he digs his nails into his palm as a reminder to himself not to make the mistake again.

"It's my pleasure... to do what I can, Ben." He looks up and meets the man's eyes, that same crystal-like blue he's always known. "I want to make up for what I've done."

The jetii's eyes soften at his words, seeming to know what he means despite the lack of clarity. Cody's heart tightens as the man stands abruptly, his sand-colored robes sweeping the floor. He takes the few short steps to close the distance between them, and he's looking directly into his old commander's face. His hand comes up and the tip of his thumb traces the curve of the clone's scar from where it starts on his forehead and ends at the apple of his cheek. "Cody, none of that was in your control. You must realize that before this guilt consumes you." Obi-Wan bends so that his forehead comes to rest on Cody's, their eyes still locked until the Jedi's slip shut.

The clone can feel his hands beginning to tremble and his throat constricting. He makes fists in an attempt to calm his nerves, but it makes no difference when a tear tickles his lashes and spills over the edge.

"You've come so far," his jetii whispers, their breaths mingling in the dark. And that's all that Cody's battered mind can handle; a thunderous sound rumbles through him, a sob that's waited years to be freed. Tear after hot, burning tear rolls down the man's face, his hands still fisting into nothing at his sides. Obi-Wan covers his knuckles with his palms, reminding him that he's physically not alone. "None of this is because of you. You only did what you believed was right. I have never blamed you for anything that's happened, Cody."

The words cause a heavy weight to lift off his chest, just slightly. He's carried this shame with him for so long, it's hard to convince himself to fully forget all the pain. It'll take time, which seems alright since they have so much of it now. He'll have to meditate more on how things tend to happen for a reason, perhaps with Obi-Wan as his teacher if he'd have him. He nods against the other man, their foreheads still touching, and he breathes in through his nose as the sobs begin to calm.

No sand or scorpions would be bothering them tonight, thanks to Cody. If he has any say in it, and he does, he'll make sure to patch the walls each day so that Obi-Wan sleeps soundly each night until his rapid aging catches up with him and steals his final breath.

[mandos-mind-trick]

The Soldier and The Spy

Summary: You're a Separatist spy. It's only ironic that your soulmate fights for the other side.

Pairings: Fives x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral, 69, face sitting, Fives is subby, Republic bashing hardcore, enemies to lovers but it happens fast, Soulmate AU, ANGST

A/N: So this was very different when I first imagined it and then this idea took over. It might be the first angsty fic that doesn't have a clear happy ending. Let's just say it's only happy if you see it that way. I actually don't hate this one, but you might hate me for writing it.

MASTERLIST

Your feet pound against the stone path as you run. Just a bit further. You’re almost to your ship. If you can reach it, you have a greater chance of escape. Of course, you had to navigate around the warship hovering in the atmosphere, but at least you wouldn’t be vulnerable and on foot.

You can hear them behind you, the clacking of their plastoid armor, the occasional calling out of orders and directions. Your only advantage is your lack of armor. You’re lighter, and faster, and you knew where you were going. 

You scramble up the steps onto the landing platform, not slowing as you race towards your ship. 

You’re almost there, just within reach when a hand shoots out, grabbing your elbow. You feel a pop in your shoulder as you’re violently redirected, your back slamming against the side of your ship. You’re quickly pinned, staring up at a clone’s helmet. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he stares down at you. He must have been on foot, so how had he managed to pass you? 

“You give a good chase, sweetheart,” He says, pinning you tight against the side of your ship. His vambrace digs into your chest, making it hard to breathe. “But not good enough.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Those words have been printed on your chest, just over your heart, for the last ten years. You spent countless hours trying to imagine just what situation you’ll find yourself in where those words make sense. You spent hours picturing just who was going to say them to you. 

You certainly hadn’t thought it would be this. Nor had you thought it would be a clone saying them to you. 

“You’re one cocky bastard, aren’t you?” You smirk, knowing he’s had that line printed on his skin too. 

You can see when it registers, his hold on you lessening just slightly as he processes the situation. You’re one step ahead, using his surprise to your advantage. You drive a knee upwards, hitting him right where his codpiece ends. He doubles over, releasing you enough that you can slip out of his hold, running for the ramp of your ship. 

You’re almost there, but he recovers faster than you expected him to, your body going rigid as he stuns you before you drop, falling unconscious. 

***

You wake in a cell. You could guess where you were before you even opened your eyes. You’re stretched out on a cot, hardly more than a metal bed. It’s certainly not the most uncomfortable place you’ve woken in before. You push yourself to sit, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. That clone must have dislocated it when he grabbed you. 

Your soulmate. 

The clone that’s your soulmate. 

Ironic, really, that you would end up on opposite sides of the war. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. As a clone, he had no choice on which side he fought for. Clones. The Republic’s loyal flesh machines that would happily lay down their lives for a system that doesn’t care about them. The Republic would resort to using living beings to fight. At least battle droids aren’t alive. They don’t feel, they don’t breathe, they barely think. 

You sigh, trying to move your injured shoulder. A deep ache burns through you, your shoulder hardly moving at all. It feels tight and swollen, and you can just imagine a huge bruise on your skin. 

“Excuse me.” You say, turning to face the energy shield keeping you in the cell. The two troopers stationed outside turn to look at you. “Can I see a medic? I think your buddy dislocated my shoulder when he grabbed me.” 

They share a look before one walks away. You hope they are actually getting a medic. A dislocated shoulder is hardly the worst injury you’ve had to live with, but you’re not exactly thrilled about being injured on an enemy ship. Not that you had any hopes of escaping. There were probably thousands of clones crawling every inch of this ship and the chances of you getting into the landing bay to steal a ship successfully were small. 

Going up against hundreds, if not thousands, of trained soldiers by yourself? Well, you’ve already lost to one. 

You’re left waiting an immeasurable amount of time before more troopers arrive, flanking whom you can only assume is the Jedi general. You’ve never met a Jedi before. You’ve never really seen one either. Part of your job was to avoid them at all costs, and you’ve been successful, up to this point. 

You assume they’re not here to fix your shoulder.

You meet the gaze of the Jedi as he and the two troopers enter your cell, not backing down despite how much you’d like to. His gaze is sharp, piercing right into you like he’s reading your very soul. From what little you know about Jedi, he might actually be doing that. He looks young, though. Not much younger than yourself. 

“You’re more well behaved than I figured a Separatist spy might be in this situation.” He says, breaking the tense silence. 

“Then you must not have much experience with Separatists.” You counter, testing the boundaries. 

A smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You gonna make this easy on me?” 

You scoff, leaning back against the wall. “You really don’t have much experience with Separatists, then.” 

The Jedi shrugs. “You don’t have to talk to me. I know the Republic will do their own questioning when we arrive. If you’re willing to talk now, it might make that a little easier.” 

You stare at him for a moment. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to force me to talk with your little magic tricks?” 

He smirks. “That’s only reserved for dire situations. The Jedi look down on using the Force to interrogate even Separatists.” 

You sit up a little straighter. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not like most Jedi?” 

He smirks at you before turning to one of the troopers behind him. They both leave your cell, leaving you behind with one of the troopers. It’s the one that caught you. 

Your soulmate. 

He and the other clone leave the cell, leaving you and your soulmate alone. He stands there, staring at you for a while. You stare back, right into his visor. You wonder what he’s thinking, what his plan is. He could reject you. You had heard something about clones rejecting their soulmates. Maybe he hopes rejecting you will force you into speaking. 

“You just gonna stand there or are you going to interrogate me?” You ask, breaking the silence.

He finally moves, lifting his hands to remove his helmet. You stare at his face, pretty much what you would expect. You know what the clones look like, generally. He has the standard face, the standard haircut. He has a goatee, though, and an Aurebesh “5” tattooed on the side of his head. His eyes are brown, deep and expressive as they stare at you. 

“I’m not here to interrogate you.” He finally says. “Like the General said, the GAR will take care of that once we get back to Coruscant.” He stares at your face for a moment. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

You huff out a laugh. “You wouldn’t be saying that if I wasn’t your soulmate. If I remember correctly I was just some ‘Separatist scum.’” 

His jaw clenches, brow furrowing as he stares at you. “Why would you join the Separatists?” 

“Why do you fight for the Republic?” You counter. 

You’ve backed him into a corner. You know it, and he knows it. 

“If you actually knew the truth about the Republic you fight for, I don’t think you’d be so willing to lay down your life for it.” You say. 

“The truth?” His fists clench at his sides, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. The clones really are just mindlessly loyal. “What, the propaganda the Separatists feed their citizens?” 

“You don’t think the Republic feeds propaganda to its citizens too? You think so highly of a Republic that is just a bunch of cushy Senators that sit in a building and debate endlessly while their people die by the thousands across the entire galaxy every day.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, starting to get angry. 

“No?” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Maybe you should start paying more attention. What are you really to the Republic? Just another number, right?” 

He turns his back to you, shoulders squared. “I’d never join the Separatists.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” You say. You’ve pressed some buttons. You know that. “Aren’t you supposed to reject me?” 

He deflates a bit, his head drooping. “We’re supposed to. It’s what the GAR wants.” 

You close your good hand into a fist. Just another way to dehumanize their human army. You’d expect nothing less. 

“Most of us don’t agree. We don’t follow that rule.” He turns back around, staring at you. “It’s not fair. To us, or to our soulmates. The General doesn’t care either. A lot of them don’t. I’m not going to reject you. I made a promise to someone, and even if he’s gone, I’m keeping my half of that promise. I need you to promise me something.” 

You stay quiet, staring at him, waiting for him to continue. You’d never agree to a promise unless you knew what it was. 

“There will be GAR officials waiting when we land to take you into custody. I don’t know exactly what will happen after that, but I can imagine they’ll question you. They might offer you a deal. Whatever happens, just don’t mention our connection. Don’t say anything about soulmates. We were put together for a reason. We’re not just going to meet this once and that be it.” 

You stay quiet, your gaze on the floor. He’s asking a lot of someone he just met, someone on the opposite side of the war. As much as you want to believe him, you know you’re likely headed to a prison cell where you’ll spend the rest of your life. Stealing Republic data for the Separatists was not a good look, and the likelihood of them offering any sort of deal is slim. You don’t know enough about the Separatist leadership or plans to offer much in exchange. You just break into Republic information systems and steal its data. 

It’s not looking good for you. 

“I can’t promise anything.” You finally say. 

You can’t look at him. You don’t know why, but you can’t bring yourself to look at his face. Shame burns through you, and you hate it. He’s just another clone, someone who could die tomorrow for all you know. 

He’s your soulmate. 

He sighs, putting his helmet back on, moving toward the energy shield. “Fives.” He says, pausing before he steps through. “My name’s Fives, because my designation number is all fives.” 

He leaves you then, not turning back to look at you. 

You keep your gaze down, your face burning as tears start to form. You hate it. You hate that you feel this way. You’re not supposed to care about them, about anyone. You get data, you deliver it to a designated spot, then you get paid. That’s all you care about. 

You don’t care about a stupid clone. 

You sit, fighting tears for another immeasurable amount of time. It’s hard to tell how much time has passed with no chronometer. A window would have been nice, at least to have something other than grey walls and the troopers guarding your cell. Staring at them only makes you feel worse. 

More troopers arrive and for a moment you’re scared you’ve landed and you’re about to meet your fate. They approach the cell, speaking quietly to the two troopers outside before the energy shield is lowered, three of them stepping in. You stare at the one approaching you, the medic’s symbol on his shoulder. 

He kneels down in front of you silently, scanning your shoulder. “Dislocated.” He says, putting the scanner away. He stands, taking your arm in his hands. “I’ll reset it on three. One, two.” He pushes on your shoulder, an audible pop sounding as it moves back into place. 

You let out a yelp, glaring up at him. “What happened to three?” 

“You would have tensed on three.” He says, pressing against the joint with his fingers. “Makes it easier for both of us if you’re relaxed.” 

He pulls an injector from his belt, stabbing you in the shoulder with it. You make another noise as he injects the bacta, rubbing your shoulder when he’s done. A bit rough for a medic, but you are the enemy here. 

“Thanks.” You say, already feeling the pain lessen as the bacta works. 

He stares at you for a second, obviously taken aback by your politeness. Just because you’re a Separatist doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole all the time. 

They leave you alone again, left to nothing but your thoughts. You almost would have preferred another interrogation. 

***

You’re carted away by more troopers as soon as the ship lands. It’s a bit ridiculous just how many of them are there. They must not successfully capture Separatists often. 

You’re immediately taken into an interrogation. It’s a good tactic, really. You’re exhausted and hungry and just ready for them to throw you in a cell for the rest of your life already. 

You don’t make it easy for them, though. It’s not your nature. 

After days of grueling interrogation and a lack of sleep, they finally offer you an ultimatum. You’re surprised they’ve offered you a deal, but perhaps the war was not waging as well as they liked to make it seem. 

Life in prison, or work for them. 

Neither of the options are ideal, and both are the same in a way. Your life would be under intense watch and scrutiny regardless, but the chances of you getting eaten or worse under the GAR’s watch was significantly less. 

You only regret choosing to work for the GAR a little. Your data scraping skills were less important to them as your code breaking skills. Turns out they aren’t as skilled as they like to pretend, and the absolute nonsense the droids used to encrypt the Separatist files is hard for them. 

If it keeps you out of a prison cell, then whatever. You’ll do it. 

Maybe Fives had been right. 

You force that thought out of your mind as fast as it arrives. You’ll deal with that later. 

You have enough to worry about with the GAR’s incessant chokehold on you. You swear you can’t even use the fresher without them constantly surveying your every move. You get it, they’re just trying to make sure you’re not going to betray them or try and run. It’s not like you really have anywhere else to go. Or anyone to share secrets with anymore. 

More than likely the Separatists would execute you as a traitor if you tried to return, and even if they didn’t, what do you really have to return to? 

Besides, your soulmate is here. 

You hate yourself for it, but you kept his promise. You didn’t breathe a word of Fives and your connection to him. They didn’t ask about your soulmate, other than taking note of the words on your chest at intake. Easy identification, you know that. Not that you were really planning to escape. Not that you have the skills to even try. 

As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but think about Fives. Where he is, if he’s alright. You know it’s just the connection talking, the beginning of your bond that had been formed when you spoke the words to each other. It’s only going to get worse the longer you’re apart from him. He must know you kept your promise, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. You can imagine the cocky smirk on his face when he realized you hadn’t spilled anything. You had kept his promise despite not agreeing to. 

Maker, you hate yourself sometimes. 

As the weeks pass, and you continue to prove your obedience to the GAR, they begin to lessen their chokehold on your every movement. You know part of it is the shifting of the war, the Republic barely managing to keep a leg up on the Separatists. You manage to get some freedom, able to go places within a short distance from the base. It’s in this new found freedom, you get back into contact with Fives. 

One of the 501st troopers approaches you while you’re away from the base, and for a moment you think he’s there to take you back, but instead he passes by, slipping a comm device into your hand. You slip it into your pocket, grabbing what you need before heading back to the base. 

You shut yourself in the fresher, the only place you have any privacy, pulling out the comm device. You stare at it for a moment. This could be a trap, an attempt by the GAR to either out your soulmate, or out you as not being as loyal as you tried to make them believe you were. 

“Hello?” You give in, speaking into it. You don’t care, you need to hear Fives’ voice again. The need, the itching under your skin to be close to him has almost become unbearable. If you can just hear his voice, maybe it will ease the ache just a bit. 

“Hello, mesh’la.” His voice comes through, your breath leaving in a relieved huff of air. “It’s good to hear your voice.” 

“I didn’t think it would really be you.” You say, leaning your head against the wall. You’re relieved to hear his voice, if only as proof it’s not a trap. 

“Why wouldn’t it be me?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Did you think this was a trap?” 

“Yes.” You admit. “I wouldn’t put it past the GAR.” 

“Then why did you use it?” 

You want to reach through the comm and slap the smirk off his face. “Maybe because I was hoping it was the Separatists coming to rescue me.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. “I probably wouldn’t joke about that.” 

You glance around the ceiling of the fresher, half expecting to find a hidden camera or a recording device. “Probably not. They’ve had quite the chokehold on me for a while.” 

“I know. It took some planning just for this to happen.” He sounds tired. Weary. You wonder just how badly he’s been feeling, since he has to still fight a war on top of everything else. “You didn’t say anything.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, pulling your knees to your chest. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“I’d like to see you again.” He says, his voice so soft, so disarming.

“If you can pull that off, I’ll be impressed.” You say. 

“I have something in the works. We’ll be returning to Coruscant soon. Just be prepared.” 

“That’s helpful.” You say. 

“I can’t give too much away. It has to seem genuine. If the GAR suspects anything...” 

“I know.” You say. “It’ll spell trouble for us both. I’d rather not have to go to prison if I can help it. I very much like having my little bit of freedom.” 

“I’d like to not be decommissioned either.” He goes quiet for a moment. “I have to go. Just keep an eye out in a few days.” 

“Okay.” You say, trying not to smile. 

You hate the way he makes you feel. 

*** A Few Months Later ***

You anxiously pace the small living area in your tiny apartment. You haven’t been able to sit still since the comm message came in last night. You barely slept, mind too busy racing to rest much. You look a mess, despite your best efforts to make yourself appear put together. 

Maker, you have it bad. 

Over the last few months the GAR had continued to loosen its watchful hold over your life, and they had allowed you to move into your own apartment just off the base. You know they’re still watching, still making sure nothing suspicious is going on, but you’re glad for a little bit of freedom. You know they’ve also done it because the war has been shifting even more. Things are not going as well as they’d hoped, and allocating resources to watching ex-Separatist spies who willingly defected to join the GAR was not high on their list anymore. 

You’re glad for the privacy, because it makes seeing Fives easier. The first time he’d seen you after your defection had been a process that involved his general and his captain. A quick fib about needing your help with some data they had on board had led to you and Fives fucking in the empty barracks. It had gotten easier to sneak away as the GAR loosened its hold on you. 

You’ve only seen Fives three times since then, as his trips to Coruscant were becoming few and far between. You hate it, the time you have to spend apart. It’s getting harder and harder as the bond continues to strengthen between you. You’re going insane, and talking isn’t enough anymore. You want to be with him all the time, but you know that’s not possible. 

A knock sounds at your door and your heart jumps. You swallow the nerves, the excitement. You don’t want to look like you’ve been waiting for a visitor if it’s not Fives. That would raise questions and that’s the last thing you need. 

You take a peek out the viewport before opening the door. “Fives!” 

“Hello, mesh’la.” He smirks, opening his arms. 

You tug him into your apartment, letting the door close behind him. You wrap your arms around him, tugging him down into a kiss. He meets your lips eagerly, his hands roaming all over your body as if to make sure you’re still whole, still real. 

“Someone missed me.” He smirks, trying to pull away from your lips, but you tangle a hand in his hair, pulling him back. He laughs, his hands settling on your hips. 

Your hands tug at his armor, starting to take it off piece by piece. 

“Easy, little loth cat.” He says, stilling your hands. “We have a few hours.” 

You give him a look. “If you don’t hurry up and get inside me, I will kick you out on the street.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughs, letting you tug him back towards the bedroom. 

You tug your own shirt over your head, helping him remove pieces of his armor. He’s already half hard, your hand ghosting over the bulge under his blacks. He lets out a quiet sound, hips attempting to push against your hand, but you move it. 

“Evil.” He grunts, looping his fingers under your waistband. He tugs your pants down, eyes widening as he sees the lack of underwear underneath. “You were waiting for this.” 

“Yes.” You say, tugging his shirt over his head. “I need you so kriffing bad.” 

“We’ve got a few hours.” He says, tugging his blacks down his legs. “But I have to leave early. We’re shipping out to Ringo Vinda in the morning.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your toes to press your forehead against his. “I hate when you have to leave.” 

“I know.” He kisses you softly. “I’m here now. That’s what matters.” 

You kiss him back, letting him lead you backwards towards the bed. He turns, lifting you into his arms before he lays back on the bed. He pulls away for a moment to groan in satisfaction, going lax under you. 

“I miss how comfortable this bed is.” He says, stretching his arms out.

You shrug. “I’ve slept in better.” 

He grabs your thighs, tugging you closer. “Cheeky.” He tugs you further up his body. “Sit on my face.” 

You breathe out a curse, moving yourself so you’re hovering over him. You grab onto the headboard, his hands closing around your thighs to tug you down so you’re sitting on him. His mouth immediately meets your pussy, already wet. You’ve been wet since this morning, thinking about having him all to yourself once again. Your fingers were never enough, and it only made you miss him more. 

He closes his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. You let out a cry, tangling a hand in his hair. It’s been a while, too busy to even bother getting yourself off. Your hips grind against his face as he shifts slightly lower, nose bumping your clit as he licks at your opening. He groans something inaudible, his tongue pressing into you as his hands guide you to continue grinding against his face. 

He sucks on your clit once more and you’re cumming, legs shaking as you soak his face. He holds you there, licking you clean as you come down from your high. You shift off his face, his skin shining with your slick.

“Kriff.” You whisper as you stare down at him, his eyes dark with lust. “That’s a good look on you.” 

He smirks wickedly. “Well, hopefully soon it’ll be a permanent look.” 

You make a quiet noise, biting your lip at the thought. Having him whenever, wherever you want. That’s the dream. “My turn.” You say, turning around so your back is to him, laying yourself flat on his stomach so you’re face to face with his cock. 

He groans, hands spreading your folds. “That’s a beautiful sight right there.” 

You take him into your mouth as he presses a finger into you. His groan vibrates through your body, the stretch of his fingers making you moan around him. He breathes out a curse, slipping a second finger into you. He pumps them lazily as you suck his cock, keeping your hand tight around the base. You debate sucking the soul right out of him, but you want him to cum inside you. You want him inside you. Badly. 

You pull yourself away before he can cum, making him whine. You sit up, moving so you’re straddling his hips. You give him a smirk, his lips parting as he stares at you. 

“Oh, kriff.” He breathes, staring at you wide eyed as you grab his cock, sinking down onto it. 

You moan at the stretch, your very soul seeming to relax as you take every inch of him. He’s so big, no matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s breathing heavily under you, eyes wide as he stares up at you. 

“Feel so good.” You moan, rocking your hips just slightly. “Missed you.” 

“Kriff,” He curses, hands gripping your hips. “Missed you too.” 

You curse, lifting yourself up just slightly before sinking back down. “So good for me.” You say, tracing his chest. 

Something changes in his gaze at your words, his hands tightening around your hips. You’re already sensitive from your first orgasm, sweat beginning to slick your skin as you bounce on top of him. His eyes lock onto your breasts as you move, hands cupping your ass. You’ve been trying to figure out which is his favorite, but you haven’t been successful. 

Maybe he just likes all of you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

You continue to move on top of him, bouncing and grinding as you chase your second of what will be many orgasms tonight. Fives is moaning and whining under you, close to his own orgasm. You watch his face, the way it morphs into nothing but pure pleasure as you squeeze around him, drawing his first orgasm of the night from him. 

His hands are bruising around your hips, your hand slipping around to your front to circle your clit. You cum a second time, shaking above him as you brace your hands on his stomach. He watches you through lidded eyes as you cum, drawing your pleasure from him. 

He pulls you down onto his chest, smoothing his hands across your back. You’re both sweaty and panting, but you’re far from finished with each other. 

“A minute.” You breathe, letting yourself go limp on top of him. “Gimme a minute.” 

“That good, huh?” He smirks. 

You make a face, shaking your head. “You cocky bastard.”  

***

“Fives?” You ask, tracing patterns on his chest. It’s late, both of you well fucked and satiated for the time being. You know he has to go in a couple hours, slip out of your small apartment and head back to the base. 

He hums in response, eyes closed and half asleep. 

You take a deep breath, scared to bring up the topic you had been avoiding speaking about. You hadn’t trusted to talk about it over the comms, needing to say it directly to his face. “Would you ever consider deserting?” 

He’s awake now, eyes snapping open. “What?” 

“Would you ever consider deserting the GAR?” You ask again. 

He sits up, practically pushing you off him. “Why would you even ask that?” 

You sit up, pulling the sheets up to cover your chest. “I’m scared, Fives.” You admit, voice wavering. “I overheard something, and it’s scaring me.” 

“What did you hear?” He asks, brows furrowing. 

“I caught part of an encrypted conversation. It was something about some plan to wipe out the Republic using the clones.” 

Fives stands from the bed, shaking his head. “That’s...that’s ridiculous. You don’t even know if it’s true.” 

“But what if it is?” You plead with him, staring at his back. “I’m scared, Fives. If anyone finds out I overheard that...we’re all in danger.” 

Fives stares out the small window in your bedroom, hands closed in fists at his side. He’s wound tight, like a coil about to spring. You stare at his back, begging for anything, any sign that he might believe you.

“What do you expect us to do?” He finally says, turning around. 

“Leave.” You say. “Go somewhere they can’t find us.” 

“I can’t just abandon my brothers. Especially if what you heard is true.” 

“Who could we even tell that would believe us?” You ask. “For all we know every high-ranking GAR official is in on it. If this is as big as it’s sounding, everyone could be in on it.” You reach out for him, your hand shaking. “I’m scared, Fives. I don’t want to lose you.” 

He sighs, taking your hand, letting you pull him back onto the bed. He wraps his arms around you, holding onto you tightly. “You won’t lose me.” He kisses your forehead. He pulls the sheets around you, surrounding you with his warm embrace. “Right now, let’s just forget about the war. Forget about everything. We’ll worry about this tomorrow.” 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu, @endofthexline, @padawancat97 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @rosechi

[dragonrider9905]

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

@photogirl894 Morgan, this is for you!!!! ❤️ I really hope you like it!!!!

Summery: Being a Jedi in the rise of the Empire is difficult. First because an old friend has become an enemy and second, you are in love with the Sergeant of Clone Force 99,.

But perhaps where you lack words, a song can change everything and say what is in your heart?

Warnings: Talk of blood; arguments; each thinks the other is dead but they're not.

Notes: I wish I wrote the reprisal to Dancing and the Dreaming but I did not; I attached the YouTube link to the song. The artist is amazing 😭 please check it out!!!!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46476934

Just start the story, right? Here you go XD

“What on earth are you thinking?”

You never argued with Hunter in all the time you’d served as the Batch’s general nor while on the run with them. You’d had disagreements but never arguments, so this sudden outburst caught you off guard. You stood up taller and straighter to exude an air of confidence, lifting your chin and setting your jaw. Your hand immediately went to the hilt of your saber, feeling the gold trimmings and etchings for comfort. Your blade was unique…yellow in color and you wanted the hilt to display that, even if it did call attention to itself. It was black but traced with gold designs of your choice …ironically, this was your only tell of uncomfort. He often picked up on it, but you noticed he didn’t now. He was too busy reprimanding you. 

You sighed. “Hunter…”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t talk, or don’t go through with it.”

“Both!”

You scowled and crossed your arms over your chest. 

Hunter paced about like a wild animal being pinned down, a look of desperation in his eye you’ve never seen before. 

“She’s coming for me, Hunter. I have to do this to protect you. To protect Omega!”

“She’ll kill you!”

“Well thanks for the vote of confidence in my skill.” 

“This has nothing to do with your skill and you know it. It isn’t a matter of ‘can’. Would you be able to kill her?”

You opened and shut your mouth a few times, trying to formulate an answer. He didn’t know what you had planned (he’d die the moment you told him for sure, so you kept it to yourself. By the way he was acting though, you wondered if he’d read your mind. You hoped he hadn’t acquired that skill. You’d be screwed.) 

You had to say something to placate Hunter, but you didn’t know what. Yelena, the Inquisitor who was after you, was a long time friend from the Temple. You couldn’t contradict the multiple late night conversations you had with Hunter, telling him about how close you were, and crying over the loss of her to the dark side. You even admitted once you wouldn’t be able to do it if you had to. You were stronger in saber skills but her connection to the Force was uncannily strong, and quite frankly, frightening. 

“That is beside the point.”

“It is ENTIRELY the point!” He threw his hands up in the air and turned from you, grasping the back of the pilot's chair. 

“Hunter…” 

Your voice was soft but it faltered. You reached out but stopped, uncertainty taking over. You’d loved this man for some time, but you never had the courage to tell him. You’d faced battle droids, sith and death itself head on with a heart of steel, but saying those three words terrified you. You were sure he didn’t feel the same. He couldn’t possibly. You wanted to believe that this outburst could have meant that he cared for you but it couldn’t. You didn’t know why exactly he was acting like this, but you knew it wasn’t that. You were his general, and only ever just his general. It was his job to look after you and old habits die hard.

His shoulder’s drooped. 

“Ner ka’ra…”

Your head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised. You didn’t know that phrase. You never heard him say it before.

“I…we can’t lose you too. Please. Don’t.”

You blinked, and he was in front of you, towering over you, eyes boring into yours. His hands had come to be on your upper arms. His grip didn’t hurt, rather offered a sort of comfort and support. You could feel the vibration of every fiber of his being begging you to stay, an unspoken desperation.

You started to chew your lip and he remained silent, seeing he was getting through to you. You didn’t need to use the Force to know his breathing was heavy and uneven, or to feel the slight shake of his ever steady hand.

But what you did feel from him…anger, confusion, fear and something else? Something he was hiding…

You were going to step into his arms, to give him a reassuring hug when an image appeared before your eyes. You gasped and nearly fell to the floor. 

In the mud of your mind, you thought you could hear Hunter calling your name. It echoed in the vast nothing that encompassed your head. Your legs started to give out and the grip on your arms started to dig. You realized you were falling.  

You were heaving for breath. 

Yelena was sending you a message: Come, or Hunter would pay the price. 

Resolve set in, unlike before. Your spine straightened and you set your jaw, letting your eyes bore into his.

“No, Hunter. I’m leaving. I have to. Please…know it is for the best because…I care. Tell the others I said goodbye…and that I love you all, will you?” 

And you were gone. Somehow you released yourself from his grip. Somehow you slipped away from him.

The feeling of you remained. A slight tingling causing his fingers to twitch. Hunter’s mind drifted to the first time…well, the only time he ever danced with you. 

Notes came from the musicians' old instruments in the town square. A song long forgotten by many civilizations rang out and danced between the walls and the old cobblestone streets. Your heart nearly jumped in your throat from the giddy excitement. A buzz traveling from your brain to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“I can’t believe they know this song! They know it!” 

You clamped your hands over your heart, shutting your eyes, swaying to the music and humming along the opening notes. 

“It’s an old song from my home,” you smiled nostalgically, sighing into the land of memory.

The peace and happiness that settled over you was not lost on Hunter and he was glad Omega had requested the musicians to play it. He smiled, watching you, taking the picture of you in. It was some sort of holiday in town and everyone was in a giving mood. Wrecker was off somewhere eating food, Tech and Echo doing who knows what, while you, Hunter and Omega went exploring about town. 

You had a wreath of flowers in your hair, little blue ones he thought you called “forget-me-nots.” They were your favorite, you’d told him that while gazing at the crown. The flower stall owner must have overheard you, because he gave them to you for free. Hunter was glad he did…you looked beautiful. The blues complimented the purple garments you wore. Ugh, he was staring and he had to stop! But it was keeping his mind off the fact he was trembling when he placed the crown on your head himself…

Omega heard you humming this tune one day and asked what it was called. “For the Dancing and the Dreaming.” you replied. “Someday, I’ll teach you the dance to the song. Right now, we gotta finish these repairs, ok kiddo? We can learn the words as we go, so long as Tech doesn’t mind the noise.” 

Hunter hardly considered it noise. Your voice was one of the most lovely things he’d heard in a while *coughs, correction, ever*. Hearing you and Omega sing and laugh quickly became his favorite sound in all the galaxy. The harmonies you two created were…not as pleasant, at first. But the more the two of you sang and learned from each other, the better you got. They tried (and succeeded on a few occasions) to get Hunter to sing along with them. His deep baritone voice added something special to the music, or at least that is what you said, and he pretended like he believed you. 

Apparently Omega hadn’t forgotten your promise to learn the dance.

Omega praddled up to your side, something curious in her eyes…Hunter had seen this kind of mischief before. What did Omega have up her sleeve?

She called out your name in a sing-song voice. “Won’t you pleeeease show us the dance! Please!”

You laughed, hardly needing the encouragement. 

“Alright. But I’ll need a partner.” 

You smiled sweetly at the girl, expecting her to volunteer. She put on a troubled face; Hunter knew her well enough to know it was staged. Though you knew her well, you didn’t have the talent of seeing through some of her acting yet. 

“I…I think I should watch first. I’ve never danced before. Why don’t you dance with Hunter?!”

Ah, so that is what she was up to.

“Oh, ok.” You shifted a little uncomfortably. You coughed and cleared your throat, extending your hand to him with a tremor. “H-hunter, would you like to dance?”

What was he going to say? No?

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged, trying to play off the awkwardness. He cleared his own throat and took your hand, following you to the center of the town square (or circle, in this case). Omega giggled and followed close behind, keeping enough of a distance not to ‘ruin the magic’. 

“It’s sort of a proposal song.” You coughed again. “It goes back and forth between the lovers…and so does the dance, here it goes like this.” 

It would be a little difficult to start in the middle of the song but you thought you could make it work. You raised your hand, trying to explain the steps, getting Hunter to do the same. He placed his palm against yours. You took a deep breath in and your heart beat fast. You looked into his eyes and got lost. You froze, forgetting the steps you had just taught him. He was looking at you too, and you wondered what he was thinking. 

The music jarred and stopped suddenly, waking you up from your daydream. You looked up, surprised at the musicians. The old man with the violin smiled knowingly at you and nodded, restarting the song.

Your voice rang out in a clear, perfect tone. Though you started to draw a crowd, it only felt like it was the two of you. Your vision tunneled on him, creating a cloud around everyone else. 

There was nothing but the two of you. No sound other than the music and your breathing and heart beats. No sight except the one in front of you. No feeling beyond your partner. 

You started to turn, and Hunter followed, anticipating your moves and catching your cues. You missed Omega’s satisfied, adoring eyes at how well her plan had worked. 

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me

No scorching sun

Nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And love me for eternity”

Hunter made up his mind to follow you. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. There was no question. 

He never thought about anything less.

— — —

The rocky, mountainous planet was kind of intimidating…you had to watch your step otherwise you could fall into a rocky canyon, a muddy ravine, or into deep, unending nothingness. The skies were gray like the world of rock around you, a storm threatening every minute. A rustling sound came from behind you. You spun around to find not your failed friend, now enemy but…

“Hunter, what are you doing here?” 

“I’m not letting you face her alone.”

“She’s a master manipulator! Do you know what she’s capable of when she abuses the force! She could paralyze you or worse! She can instantly spot a weakness and know how to exploit it.”

“I can’t let her hurt you.”

“Hunter…”

“Ahhhh, look who finally decided to show up. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

A voice you knew so well. Once full of sun and light now dark and foreboding. You knew it but didn’t recognize it. 

“Yelena.” 

“Took you long enough.” She crossed her arms, annoyed. “Surprised you brought the boyfriend considering my offer.”

“Boyfriend?” Hunter was taken aback. Yelena smirked at the new revelation. 

“Yes. Don’t tell me she’s never told you how she feels about you. She had feelings for you during the Clone War…just imagine how it’s grown.”

You felt your face burn a deep red. You felt Hunter look at you more than you saw it. You pointedly ignored it. 

“I won’t join you. I can’t join you.”

Yelena shrugged. “Hm, should we let the man have a say? After all, it seems you’ve been keeping things from him. Here’s the deal, good looking—“

You felt yourself die on the inside. Yelena swayed on her hip, she knew the effect she was having on you.

“I told Miss Perfect Jedi, here, she could either join me…or I’d rip her apart…” Yelena stepped forward; you extended your hand protectively in front of Hunter, moving to take the front. She still wasn’t looking at you though, she was addressing Hunter with a cruel gleam in her eye.

“Know how I’d do that?” Her smile was cold, and reveling in the ice. “By hurting you, precious.”

Hunter was stunned. From what he remembered of  Yelena was…she never bluffed. She always threatened truths…which made her promises terrifying…if she was threatening this…that meant?

He was frozen in his spot. He should have heard the blade ignited. He should have seen the glow of promised blood. He should have moved. But he didn’t, until it was too late. He felt an invisible grip hold him, invading his mind.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move.

Nothing.

“Yelena stop! This isn’t you! You’re hurting, don’t let that destroy you!”

“You could have the same power. Join me!”

“Love will always be more powerful than hate. It takes more strength than to yield. Only the weak succumb.” 

Anger crossed Yelena’s face…a boiling anger, and Hunter knew you’d crossed a line. She came forward, saber raised. 

Hunter watched helpless as you placed yourself between Yelena and himself. 

NO.

He watched as you embraced the red blade, saber going clean through you. The red blade entering and leaving your body.

Why would you do that for him? 

Why?

His lungs refused to let in air. The tips of his fingers turned cold and his hands went numb. He knew he was clenching his fists but he couldn’t feel it.

He watched as you gasped, saw the single tear leave your eye, heard as an exhale of finality left your lungs as your body crumbled to the ground. 

“My dear, that wasn’t very smart. Now you’re dying and he’s going to pay the price like I warned you he would.”

Yelena kicked you and Hunter saw your body slacken. 

His muscles were tense and exhausted themselves from trying to move, trying to get to you. Anger flooded his veins like lava. 

“Do you know why she always planned on taking the blade? You’re wondering why she didn’t just fight me off with her superior skills? Oh you didn’t know that; then let me tell you…Because she thought she could save me. Seems like she thought that would save you too. Looks like no one here is getting saved.” She grabbed the bandanna off his head. Letting it fall in place.

“Say goodbye, she’ll die before you reach the top…if you ever do. Personally, I’m rooting for your survival. Won’t that make the future interesting?”

With that, Yelena dropped him over the side of the cliff.

He free fell.

Down.

Down. 

Crash. 

All was black. 

Last thing he remembered was seeing you laugh and how much he wanted to hear that again. All he wanted was to hold you. If he couldn’t in this life, maybe you could dance in his dream….or together again in the next.

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need of mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me

But I would bring you rings of gold

I'd even sing you poetry 

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me

To love and kiss, to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life's sorrows and delights

I'll keep your laugh inside me

Startled, Hunter jolted awake. Pain flashed across his body but he wasn’t as hurt as he should’ve been. Looking around, he saw he broke through layers of rock and landed on a cushioned area. 

Thank the Force. 

His relief was short-lived however. How long had he been asleep? Were you still alive? How long did you have?

Would you be laying there pale and motionless, waiting expectedly for him to come to you though he never came? His stomach lurched. It was near sunset…you couldn’t have survived this long.

Hanging his head, the tracker felt lost for the first time.

— — —

You woke up alone. 

Abandoned. 

You were right. Yelena couldn’t kill you either. You knew she didn’t have it in her. Maybe your act did some good yet. If only Hunter…wait. Hunter! You felt the earth around you, trying to evoke the memory of what happened there from the dirt. 

You wished you hadn’t. Wanting to scream, a sob came out instead. Tears blurred your vision but in the mixing of colors, and swirling surrounding…red caught your eye.

Dragging yourself over to the spot where Hunter’s bandanna lay abandoned on the ground, you reached out and gently picked it up, bringing it to your face. Tenderly, you ran your fingers along the emblem, feeling the familiar fabric. Bringing it to your lips briefly, a new resolve filled you. You had to get up. Find the body. Honor him one last time.

You gasped and dragged yourself up, hands pinned to the wounds at your side. 

No.

He was gone.

The sobs came, and you didn’t hinder the tears as they fell shamelessly from your eyes down your cheeks. Your side burned as if the saber was still inside you, twisting itself in circles, but that was nothing compared to the heaviness you felt in your heart. Your grief was overwhelming and threatened to subject you…but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

He wouldn’t want it. You’d live for him. It was your fault he was gone. You couldn’t give up when he sacrificed everything for you. An Inquisitor once boasted to you what hate could do for the will to live. Well, he had nothing on love.

The wound looked bad, but you bound it. You could beat this yet. You had to. You had to find Hunter, even if his spirit was one with the Force.

Unexpectedly, something pricked your brain…a happy memory turned bittersweet. A memory in the form of a song…you couldn’t sing that one now, but you could sing something in his honor. 

Slowly the words came to you, and in as steady of a voice you could muster, you let the old melody carry the new words. Words you hoped conveyed to him what you felt. 

Strain started to seep into the words and when you reached the apex of the song, all the sadness, anger, and bitterness was released in a word. You fell to your knees, and looked to the sky, letting the last note soar like you knew his spirit would.

More tears came but quietly, and a peace of resignation which somehow, somewhere, you knew was from him, settled in your heart. 

— — — 

My dearest one my darling dear

He knew that voice…. And that tune. It was yours. You were singing your song. He’d know it anywhere. How often had he gone over it in his head since the day you sang it?

Wait…

It was and it wasn’t. It sounded the same but the words were different…it felt different. 

The tune seemed to surround him like a shroud. Grasping his heart. Squeezing it tight. Threatening to suffocate him where he laid.

It wasn’t fair…that you were killed. Your body lying motionless somewhere above him. He should be there crading you right now. Holding you. Reassuring you in your last breaths everything was going to be alright, only to see your eyebrow of disbelief and slight annoyance as you told him not to lie to you. He’d find some way to stop the blood; some way to keep you alive…or bring you back.

 He should have told you long ago how he felt about you. About how you were his dream. His soulmate. The only dance he wanted to dance. He wanted to crown you again like he once did with the flowers you liked best (how appropriately named now!) And now it was too late.

Your voice seemed to echo what was in his heart. But there was something about it that was so strange. Perhaps It was because he never heard you more sorrowful or angry than he ever remembered. 

It weighed on him; his heart threatening to break free from its cage with its violence. The heaviness that sunk in.

My mighty one has fallen

Images of Hunter laughing, smiling filled his mind. Unbidden, the flash of a vibroblade slashing countless enemies in smooth motions. The light of a yellow saber you loved that he used once when you both were pinned down and you tossed it to him in exchanges. The classic stance of a leader he always took, once on purpose, now out of habit.  

The children weep for their protector

Flashes of the Batch flashed before his eyes. Omega inconsolable. Wrecker no better. The sorrow and rage he knew so well in Crosshair that he abated whenever he could. Tech mumbling, lost. Echo kneeling, shoulders dropped, hands gripping his head wondering what he could have done better. 

The loved ones will be praying

He saw…you. For the first time ever with real grief and anger, yet something so soft he could have thought you loved him. You gripped at the wound in your side while your hand clutched at something else. He tried to focus on what he was seeing, zeroing in on your hand. You brought it up to your chest…gripping it like it was your lifeline, the only thing keeping you grounded to reality. 

The unmistakable strip of red fabric, painted with a skull. 

So we part again my love

He heard your real voice, strong and confident as ever, and realized it wasn’t in his head. Your voice rose above everything and rang out so clearly. He didn’t understand how it was possible but the realization hit Hunter that he was seeing your thoughts and hearing you as if you were one. Your voice was raw and agonized in pain as you called out. He resolved he’d get back to you at any cost. 

My darling one

As he climbed, dancing figures floated in his vision, a ghost of beauty; the phantom feeling of your hand on his haunted his mind. An invisible hand guiding him to the top, telling you where to place his grip safely. 

More memories came…strangely enough, strengthening him and not hindering. 

Late nights on the Marauder…special innocent moments he dared not dwell upon as such, in case you didn’t feel for him the way he felt for you. Slight touches of hand, secret knowing looks, late night conversations.

And so the gods above will bless thee…

A vision of his family happy, all together once more, as they should be, but in a place he did not know, yet felt like home. Crosshair pretending to be annoyed with a laughing Wrecker—though the traces of a smile could be seen, Tech rambling off some facts with a smile, Echo crossing his arms and making a sassing remark, Omega playing with all the friends she’s ever made and a few he didn’t even know. 

You and him.

Holding hands and beholding the family before them. 

So the song ended…As the high notes lingered in the air, voice carried softly in the gentle breeze, Hunter almost reached the top.

The song stopped but the music echoed from stone to stone and brick to brick as the musicians let the tune linger a little longer, hearts not ready to completely give up the melody. 

Your voice was gone. Your breath was gone, though you were driving it in heaves. Hunter was staring at you, and you at him. It was only the two of you. You, standing, blushing like a rose, questioning, uncertain. Him doing the same.

The chasm between you so far, yet only an arm’s reach away. Something so easily breached, yet near impossible to attain.

The final notes lingered, vibrato on the violin, a voice of the flute.

Hunter looked at you like he never did before, and your heart, for the first time began to hope, maybe, you could have a future. Perhaps he felt the same.

You had your eyes closed, trying to meditate. The air cooled and was a salve for your burning heart. It nipped at your nose and numbed your hands already, resting motionless on your thighs. You didn’t know how long you were kneeling there, still and silent, but your muscles felt stiff and unyielding. You knew you had to go, but you couldn’t. Not yet. You wanted to find him but something told you to stay a little longer yet. You didn’t know why, but you trusted anyway. 

Somewhere, a bird started singing its farewell to the day. A lone call, begging it’s partner to assure it, it was still there and would return to it soon. 

The single tune soon turned into a duet, and a smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t help but feel everything would be ok.

The tune was beautiful, one you never heard before. You wondered if it was a mating song or perhaps these two in such perfect harmony knew each other so well they completed each other? 

In the cacophony of notes, you heard your name. 

Your eyes jolted open and you tripped over yourself.

The deep, husky voice couldn’t be real, could it? It was hard to tell because tears clouded your vision once more.

“Hunter? You’re alive! Hunter?!” You tried to get up, gasping at the pain you felt in your rush. Hunter was by your side in an instant. He fell to his knees, embracing you. All you could hear was your name repeated over and over with sobs in between loving gibberish coming from both of you. 

In a moment of silence, Hunter brought his forehead to yours, a smile tugging at his lips. He chuckled airily, a tear falling from his eyes.

“I thought I lost you…but then, your song…it gave me the strength to climb and find you.”

“You heard it?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes were closed contently, just basking in the feeling of you being there. His hand cradled your face, thumb gracefully stroking your cheek. You brought your hand up to his, entwining his fingers with your own. Bringing your clasped hands down to your heart, you brought your other behind his neck.

Seeking silent permission, looking into his eyes, you saw all your love reflected back at you. His gray eyes started to match yours, melting to brown and glowing with the golden sun finally defeating the storm. 

Hunter lowered his voice, lips next to your ear. It was nearly a whisper; his voice dry and wavering in the tumultuous emotion he was feeling. Yet despite that, it was the most beautiful you’d ever heard him sing. 

No scorching sun

Nor freezing cold

Will stop me on my journey

If you will promise me your heart

And love. And love me for eternity”

He didn’t have a wreath of flowers, but he did the next best thing. 

Untangling the cloth from your hands, he tied the red ribbon around your head, placing a gentle kiss on your crown.

It was your turn to huff. Your throat swollen with tears, yet your voice found a way.

My dearest one, my darling dear

Your mighty words astound me

But I've no need of mighty deeds

When I feel your arms around me

Hunter smiled, then wrapped his arms around you. You laughed fully now and giggled when he lifted you. 

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

You laid your head on his chest, all anxiety and pain replaced with peace and love..

I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me

He wasn’t going to let you have the last word. 

I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With ne'er a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you will marry me!

If you…..would marry me.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RdtQqWHLWw  song by Emma Amaya

[steeb-stn]

I saw you were looking for prompts and was wondering if you could do something for Crosshair and maybe him helping Omega when she gets hurt/np ofc

hi friend, ive got some ideas for this one that im excited about, just wanted to share a little preview! Thanks for the prompt!

-

He’s about to turn away when he sees something on the side of her neck, something that makes his heart stop - a red spot, is that - 

He grabs her sleeve where it’s pressed against the iron bars, jerking her back towards him. 

Surely they wouldn’t - not on a child - 

(And what about this place could possibly make you think they wouldnt?) 

But surely Nala Se wouldn’t have let them, wasn’t that the whole reason Omega was here in the first place - 

(right, because the clones themselves were always so much more important to her than her precious work)-

“Crosshair!” Omega tries to pull away from him, face scrunching up in annoyance, but his iron grip on her shirt sleeve remains steady.

“What is that?” He can’t get her any closer through these bars, dammit, but it looks like- “What is that on your neck?” 

“Oh.” She puts her free hand up to the spot. “It’s a bug bite, I think. I had to clean the kennels, and I think something got in there with the hounds.” 

Is she lying to him? He doesn’t know why she would - embarrassment, maybe? But she seems fine otherwise - sure, she looks tired, but definitely not like she’s been a few rounds with a torture droid. No ligature marks on her wrists that he can see. 

Just a small red welt on her neck, with a central puncture. Several red lines around it, like she’s been scratching at it. Years of camping out on bug-infested planets with mosquito-magnet Wrecker has him speaking on reflex. “Quit scratching it.” 

She jerks her hand down like she’s been caught and scowls at him. 

He turns his back to her, shrugging off the lingering panic. “You should disinfect that. Who knows what filth is under your fingernails that you’ve been inoculating it with.” He tries to erase the image of her strapped down under the needle of that damned droid, and utterly fails. “Go away.” 

[squad-724]

I'd love to know what your Vampire AU wip is about! :)

“Tech, we're pinned! Can't you cut off this part of the facility?!” “It's a prison Hunter! Their controls have multiple safety components that I need to override manually for each individual corridor!” The five clones, members of Bad Batch, were currently running from the droids of the Citadel. Ironic, wasn't it? A few months back Echo ‘died’ during a mission here. Now, with his new squad, he was once again running through the dark gray halls, this time his enemies were the Jedi, the same he sacrificed himself for. But not anymore. When the Batch received a coded message from Rex they got themselves into the craziest mission they have ever heard about. Torrent’s general had been killed less than a year into the war, protecting the chancellor from an assassin. His secret was never revealed to the public, only known by the jedi Order and his family, the 501st. That he was a vampire, a sith made species created to hunt down Jedi, believed to be exterminated with their masters. Over millennium after one was recorded a Jedi of the name Qui Gon Jinn found a young boy, able to transform his arms into bat wings, being used as an execution pet by a Hutt. After killing the slug the Jedi took the child to the temple. Anakin always said the Jedi were reluctant in him joining the order, the reactions to him trying to find friends raging from fear to outward hostility. It took the vode weeks to make their general spend his free time outside his quarters, eating and training on his own. If not for Rex catching their Jedi rummaging through their synth blood freezers they would probably never know what he was. And none of them cared. Not for his inability to stand in the sunlight, his wings, long fangs or how his eyes shone in the darkness. Every clone knew how their general would slice the palm of his hand to feed them his blood when the medics weren't able to arrive in time. None of them flinched when a shadow flew over their heads in the night sieges. They knew how to calm him down after his senses went haywire, wrapping him in blankets and shutting down the lights. The information of his sacrifice for the chancellor hit the 501st hard. They were assigned to many Jedi after that, all quickly resigning from the leadership of the chaotic battalion. The clones that served under Skywalker had a small bat painted on their buckets, to honor their late general. After a dozen Jedi refused to lead them, the leadership was assigned to Rex, who made them one of the most efficient night legions, specialising in battles taken in darkness. Thanks to that the troopers of 501st were immediately able to recognise their brothers on Umbara, preventing a bloody friendly fire Krell sent them to. The traitor was their last Jedi general. The captain turned commander was hit by Skywalker's death the hardest, the symbol of the bat taking most of his chest plate, over his heart. Only the closest of troopers to him knew how close that relationship was. That's why, when commander Fox called him over a year after Skywalker's death to tell him his cyare was alive, Rex began to act immediately.

Part 1 >:]

Rexwalker vampire Anakin au

[hellhound5925]

HERE IT IS 🙌🏻 THE MOMENT LONG AWAITED

Cyare Verd

*OC Raven x Hunter

A/N: Welcome back! I apologize for taking so long but ☝🏼 I edited my original story up to the fourth chapter only to decide I still didn’t like it so guess what I edited the same four chapters again 😅

I’ll start by saying, yes it still follows the season two storyline of The Bad Batch (unoriginal I know) but I did change it up quite a bit. If your looking for Omega (lol) shes gone 👋🏼 I was never a huge fan of her so I wrote her out 🫣 otherwise, I hope you enjoy the new version of my fic. I will be taking it off Wattpad and AO3 in the meantime so I can finish making edits.

Oh, one last thing. If you would like to be tagged please drop a comment or send me a message ☺️ Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking time out of your day to read this. It means the world to me.

Anyways. Without further ado 🤲🏻 I present to you my updated fic 💖

Prologue/Background

Raven (If you see this. It’s the Pov for the following)

​Before order 66 went down, I spent my time on Kamino training new batches of clones for the Grand Army of the Republic. I met many of the troopers who lived there during the time including Sargent Hunter of the infamous Clone Force 99. Our interactions were usually quite brief but there was a certain charm about him I enjoyed from our very first encounter. However, I was there to perform my duty to my clan and that always came first.

​It was an honor to continue the legacy my father - Kal Skirata - left behind. He and my brothers - the Null ARC’s - have been off trying to thwart a plot they didn’t realize would lead to order 66.

​During that time, Kal’Buir had asked that I stay on Kamino not only for intel but also to get out any defecting troopers.

A friend of mine, who is another Mandalorian by the name of Aspen, posed as a supply ship for myself. She would drop off supplies or bring me an array of random items I asked for to validate her being there. Aspen would then smuggle troopers to Mandalore where they were to live out their days as they wished. A part of our clan. Clan Skirata.

When order 66 did finally happen, my brother Ordo had warned me to prepare for something big that would be happening soon. Whether or not he knew exactly what I’ll never know.

For the first few days, I lingered on Kamino waiting for any one of my brothers or Kal’Buir to contact me but it didn’t come. About a week later a droid appeared in my quarters with a message. ‘Get out now. You’re in danger Sen’ika (little bird).’ Kal’Buir was the only one who ever called me Sen’ika - mostly because I hated it but he could get away with anything.

Shortly thereafter, I packed my things discreetly and called for Aspen. She came within a rotation claiming the usual - that she was here to deliver supplies for me - and to my surprise they let her in.

The minute I was on her ship, the two of us left. We ended up on the planet in the mid rim. Where Ord Mantell became our temporary home.

Chapter One: Cid’s Parlor

Raven

Standing out in the busy streets of Ord Mantell, the sun beats down on my beskar fighting the darkness that rests on my shoulders. I will my feet to move it’s as if this weight is too much for them to carry.

My irritation radiates off me as the thunderous pitter patter pounds in my head each time a citizen passes by - must be nice to live so carefree - I think to myself. Yet they pay me no mind, even though the very nature of my armor is intimidating.

The dull black shein of a well-worn helmet that sits upon my head, with the infamous T shaped visor. The rest of the plates are the same color with a few iridescent feathers poking out from underneath. Ironic right.

This armor is my pride and joy. It was a coming of age gift - if that's what you want to call it - from my father. Kal’Buir was by far one of the greatest Mandalorians in the history of our people - though my opinion might be biased.

A wave of sadness washes over me at the thought of him, my family, my brothers, and my best friend Aspen. Shaking the thoughts from my mind I tell myself they wouldn’t want me to sulk. Aspen would smack me if she were here. Unfortunately, the two of us had to go our separate ways after getting into some trouble. What else is new?

Aspen has always been the friend I can count on for anything. We met as kids on Mandalore and practically grew up together. Once we were old enough, the two of us would drink - a little too much - and run our mouths. Sometimes I’d come home with a black eye and Kal’Buir would say ‘I hope the other guy looks worse’. With a osik (shit) eating grin he knew I could handle myself.

Eventually that trouble caught up to us. When I had been on Ord Mantell before, she and I got into it with a group of merc’s and Cid saved our skin. Usually I didn’t pick fights we couldn’t win but that time I did.

That was just after our home was bombed by the Empire. My family. My clan was there as far as I know. Rumor has it the surface is no longer safe. The blast destroyed everything and killed everyone. Grief does funny things to people.

Since then Cid feels we owe her every time she calls. Aspen was smart enough to ignore her but I can’t leave business unfinished. I don’t like owing people anything.

Bitterness courses through my veins and I find my feet moving through the doorway.

Hunter

Cid's Parlor is loud and crowded - as usual. Which for enhanced senses is why I prefer the solitude of the ship. Let’s not even get into the stench of hot bodies and alcohol might put me over the edge.

I take a deep breath to steady myself and push out the overwhelming sounds and smells, in an attempt to tune back into my brother's conversation. Echo and I were discussing whether or not the Marauder needs maintenance. Which is true it does. However, we don’t have the credits.

One glance over at Wrecker and its obvious Tech is beating him - again - at dejarik.

With a sigh and a gentle swirl of the pint in my hand, I watch as the amber liquid spins like a world pool. The sickly-sweet smell of blood orange and yeast reaches my nose. I let myself get lost in it for a moment, the scent totally washing over me.

The weight of the things we have had to endure begins creeping in. My men. Their safety and well-being are my responsibility. Crosshair.

Before I’m sucked too far into the void, my senses pick up something that wasn’t there a moment ago. Dark, sweet raspberry, rose. I’d recognize that scent anywhere after the hours I’d spent committing it to memory.

Lifting my gaze from my glass, it’s pulled like a force of gravity as a Mandalorian female enters the parlor. A warmth washes over me mixed with a little relief at seeing that all too familiar T-visor. I can’t contain the shock that creeps on my face at her presence or the memory—

‘Alright everyone, today we go over the basics.’ Her voice is crisp but not cold, giving orders and yet…silky smooth. I could listen to her speak to the regs all day.

She continues barking out orders which I recognize as the basics for hand-to-hand combat. I stop listening about half way through just to commit her to memory.

Covered head to toe in dark black beskar, her visor drifts over the group of men before her. The small frame is quite a contrast to the 6ft Clone troopers in formation. She has such a commanding presence, exuding confidence. My eyes roam over her curves and stop at the dual westar -35’s attached to either side of her thighs. For a moment I swear my heart might leap out of my chest—

Raven Skirata.

My trousers suddenly become constricting forcing me to shift uncomfortably. We only ever ran into one another a few times on Kamino. Mostly casual conversation about war efforts. The sound of her laugh when I told her about some of the things we’d improvised on missions, is one my brain never lets me forget. I never did get the courage to ask her about herself.

Raven crosses over to the bar and my eyes follow her every move. It’s only now that I notice she’s skinnier than I remember. Her complexion is quite pale in comparison to the dark circles under her eyes. The sight causes my chest to tighten. What the hell happened?

"Long time no see. I was starting to think you wised up" the Twi-lek bartender says by way of greeting. There's a long pause as the Raven drops her shoulders considerably.

"Unfortunately, I'm a little low on rations to be wise" she shoots back, that silky smooth voice taking on a sarcastic tone.

Having caught the attention of a rather large man - whose been talking loud enough for everyone in here to hear - he leans over to speak to her.

"Wow, that must be real beskar.......Wonder what kind of price someone would pay for th-that...." He slurs a little at the end.

In one smooth motion, Raven ejects her vibro-blade from her vambrace - the steel practically sings - slamming his head into the bar top with the other hand. A loud thud follows. Some of the patrons stop talking to stare while the Twi-lek laughs.

Pressing her blade to his throat she leans in close she sneers, "Try to take it from me and I'll find out how much someone will pay for your head.”

The man proceeds to mumble and she cocks her head at the bar tender as if in annoyance. Letting go of the man he slumps to his knees before getting up and stumbling away, hand pressed to his temple.

I have to work had to suppress the smile that threatens to creep onto my face, the corner of my mouth twitches anyways.

"Don't mess with Mandalorians" Echo chuckles, drawing attention. Raven glances our way tensing. Mentally I command myself to look away but I can’t. For a moment I swear, even through her visor we make eye contact.

Raven

After I’m satisfied I’ve put this man in his place, I let go and he slumps to the floor. Comments fly from over my shoulder but there’s that voice I’ve heard thousands of times that stands out.

I can’t help but turn and that when I see them. The red and white plastoid. Thanking my ancestors for the helmet, I roll my eyes at just how ironic it is they are here. Sargent Hunter and the Bad Batch. He and I have spoken a few times on Kamino but the others I’ve never officially met.

Frozen in place, I stare for a second. The Sargent doesn’t take his eyes off me with an unreadable expression. If I’m lucky he won’t recognize me - I think to myself. Forcing myself to move, I turn back to the bartender with a finger in the air, signaling I’d like a shot.

My gloved hands make their way to my helmet and gently slide it off, letting my messy blonde braid at the back of my head fall. Lately I find myself caring less and less about what I look like.

Placing my helmet on the bar top, I take a breath to steady myself before taking the shot. The burning liquid a welcomed punishment if nothing else.

The bartender nods over my shoulder and I sign knowing what's coming.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes" Cid says, throwing an arm over me like we are old pals.

I roll my hazel eyes "I'm not here because I want to be. Lets get on with it" I grumble.

"No 'Hi Cid, how are you?'" She asks.

"Nar'sheb (shove it)" I say in my native tongue with a polite smile on my face. She has no idea what I said to her but there's a snicker from someone close by.

————

"Remember what happened last time you threw your attitude around like that? " Cid scolds me as we enter her office.

Picking dust off my flight suit I sass, "I'm not here to discuss my 'attitude'. What's the mission?"

Cid moves behind her desk and crosses her arms "Fine, I need you to help out a group of fine gentlemen." She starts to explain, her tone a little too...chipper.

I raise a brow, shifting my weight and hum my dissatisfaction.

Cid immediately gets defensive, “Look it’s not my fault you mandos like to find trouble. You’re just lucky I was there to bail you out. Besides, these guys could really use someone with your skills. Dooku's private stash is being relocated by the Empire and I want you to help them get as much as possible".

The fact that she said Empire had my attention and attitude immediately shifts.

"I thought you might like that and I promise I'll give you 20%" she continues noticing my mood lighten.

"30 and it's a deal" I counter.

"Hey! I gotta pay those other guys too. I feel I'm being quite generous.”

I guess for considering who I’m speaking with… "Fine 20%, Now who are these guys?"

"They call themselves the Bad Batch. Wait here I'll go get them" she doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she heads out the door.

For a moment I stay where she left me and contemplate my next move. I can either play it like I don’t know them and take the chance their Sargent will recognize me or…

With an annoyed sigh, I stride over to her desk and set my helmet down before scanning the book shelves. Most of these I’ve read during my ‘spare time’ when Cid let me crash here before. Not surprisingly, there’s nothing new.

Leaning my back against one I take my gloves off and unbraid my hair. The blonde waves fall loosely over one shoulder ending just below my breast. It’s a wonder I ever let it get this long but a part of me just can’t bring myself to cut it.

I make myself comfortable at her desk, leaning back and kicking my boots up on it, When Cid flings the door open and scowls at me. My stomach ties itself into knots but I try to seem disinterested by playing with my hair.

There’s a chance these guys decided like the others to side with the Empire. But the odds they did and they are here? Slim but not zero.

Pushing off the desk I stand and stroll around to the front, leaning against it. A few golden strands fall into my face with the movement. My hands naturally side down towards my blasters holstered at my sides. A defense position that’s become muscle memory. The Sargent eyes follow my every move.

"Take it easy there Mando these are the good guys."

Cid rolls her eyes after seeing my body language. Once again in typical Cid fashion she hid this from me, likely knowing I wouldn’t come.

The largest one of the 4 pushes past.

"I'm Wrecker! I like to blow stuff up!" He says very loudly, sticking out his hand. My body is further tensing.

I hesitantly shake his hand, which compared to mine - even with gloves on - looks like it could easily crush it.

"Wrecker, I feel that last part was not necessary" says the one holding a datapad.

"I am Tech by the way.”

Nodding by way of greeting, I quickly glance over at their Sargent. Had I blinked I would have missed the split second of recognition before the mask of a leader slid into place.

The one with a socket arm glances over at him. Probably from the tension radiating off of me. Those amber eyes see me for exactly who I am.

My breathing picks up, but I quickly get it back under control. The former doesn’t seem to notice, not taking his eyes off me.

I decide to meet his gaze with a challenging one. Hoping to hide whatever it is he sees.

Shaking his head like he’s having a difficult time dragging himself from thought, introduces himself.

“I'm their Sargent-well was their Sargent...Hunter and this is Echo" he gestures to socket arm.

Echo waves at me with his socket and a soft smile. I nod slowly and clear my throat.

“I know who you are.”

Tech lifts his eyes from his datapad to look at me once again. Before he or anyone else can I say anything I continue,

“Raven. Raven Skirata.”

————

When I start towards my ship - alright so it's not really my ship, I stole it - I was so deep in thought I almost didn’t hear someone call out to me.

"Wouldn't it just be easier if we all went together?"

I stop not bothering to turn around "How do I know you won't leave me behind?"

If these are the clones I’ve heard so much about, there’s a good chance I can trust them. However, my instincts are telling me not to. Echo, almost like he is reading my mind says,

"You can trust us, we aren't like the others".

The sorrow in his voice fills the space between us, making me uncomfortable. I roll my shoulders, hands flexing at my sides.

Without saying anything I head up the ramp to my ship, gather a few things in my pack, and come back out to see Echo standing where I left him. The rest of the group must have gone to their ship. With a small nod he leads the way.

As we approach, I stop for a moment before heading up the ramp to admire the hull before me. An Omicron class attack shuttle but it’s been modified. It’s just as impressive if not more so in person. My brothers - specifically Mereel and Jaing - would have loved this thing, I can practically hear them fighting with even Ordo for who would pilot.

With a few steps up the ramp, I peer inside and it’s notably clean. Briefly I take in the surroundings noting the others up front in the cockpit area. Echo glances back at me sensing my hesitation.

“I’ll show you around”

I tip my visor towards him appreciatively, without saying a word.

————

Echo finishes the tour with the bunks, two on the left and two on the right. He gestures to the right, showing me which one is mine and offers me a gentle smile. With a quick glance I realize there are only 4 of them.

“Hunter usually stays up in the cockpit. You get his bunk.”

Great.

I nod my appreciation again and take my pack off my shoulder. The only things in it are a couple changes of regular clothes and some rations. I've not got much to lose that isn't my beskar these days.

Placing my pack on the lower bunk, the mythosaur skull on the back of my gloves stare back at me with hollow eyes. It’s almost like they know. Our people are gone. For a moment I wonder if anyone will even remember what it means.

I forgot Echo was still standing there until his throat clears. He says carefully, “Your father is Kal Skirata.”

My heart starts to thunder in my chest at the mention of his name. I finish settling my pack before I turn to face him. A part of me wants to answer but it feels like my mouth is full of cotton. I mentally thank my ancestors for the visor between us.

“He was one of my instructors. In my early days I mean. He was always really good to us. I heard about what he did...he got some of us out.”

Silence fills the space. I slide my helmet off, tucking it under an arm. Unable to look him in the eye, my boots seemingly interesting all the sudden.

“He’s gone.” My voice almost doesn’t sound like my own. Distant.

“Too many good people have been lost because of the war. I’m sorry to hear that.”

In his kind words, the galaxy feels a little less lonely. I finally lift my head and meet his gaze, seeing the loss there.

“I’m sorry for your loss too.”

Echo only offers me a somber smile in response. My walls go back up and I decide to change the subject. It comes out a little sassier than I had intended.

“So, you all have enhanced something or other right? I mean I was on Kamino and spoke to your Sargent a few times but mostly what I know is what I’ve heard.”

”Each of us had a unique quality. Wrecker is brute strength, Hunter has enhanced senses, and Tech is really smart.”

”Wasn’t there another member? Crosshair?”

Another sad look from him, “He chose the Empire.”

“Ah” I nod my understanding. “How do you fit in here?”

He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles.

“I was originally with the 501st under General Skywalker. We were on Skako minor and I was blown up. Captured by the Techno union and they made me mostly a machine.” Echo lifts his socket arm as a reference.

“My Captain. Rex. He and the Bad Batch rescued me. I owe them everything.”

That name. Captain Rex. It sounds familiar. ”No offense but you just met me and you trust me enough to tell me all this?” My sass once more evident.

He smiles and says “Your father spoke highly of you.”

My throat closes up at the same time pride washes over me. When I don’t respond he continues.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in” and with that he turns and heads toward the cockpit.

I watch as he reaches the others and takes a seat. Unable to do anything else other than process what he just said.

————

It takes me a while to recover from the conversation. A part of me hesitates to comm Aspen but I can’t risk compromising her.

Instead, I take my time to check my weapons (two blasters at my hip, vibro blade in my vambrace, and the various blades stashed in my boots and under my back plate). No one bothers to check on me, which is just as well. Finally, I end with checking the HUD in my helmet - which seems to be functioning fine.

Discarding my helmet on the bunk, I head for the cockpit where the others are chatting quietly. The hushed tones likely to prevent me from overhearing. Hunter stiffens as I approach which only confirms my thought.

The four seats at the front were taken up by each of the members. Leaning against the doorway I cross my arms over my chest plate.

"We don't have a reason to trust each other but once this mission is over and I'm paid, I'm gone. You won't have to worry after that.” The annoyance plastered on my face is visible to all.

They all glance at one another except Hunter, his eyes fixed on my face like he’s trying not to look anywhere else. He almost looks hurt at my comment.

"That seems reasonable" Tech says very matter of factly.

”Great. So, what's the plan?”

“Get to Serenno and scout the area." Hunter says turning his attention to space zooming by at light speed.

I sigh, "That's not much of a plan but I can improvise."

Wrecker chimes in, ”Ahaha you’ll fit right in!” Awkward silence fills the space before I break it.

“Right. Well I guess we should all rest up so let me know when we land.” Spinning on a heel, I head for the bunks.

Next Chapter here.

Wattpad link here.

Taglist: @cloneloverrrrr @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @idoubleswearimawriter @savebytheodore @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @jediknightjana @techs-goggles9902 @clonethirstingisreal

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged in the future!

[kanerallels]

Okay here are my many, many thoughts on Jedi Survivor. I'll keep the spoilers beneath the cut, so all who venture forward have been warned!

The way the game started out was so fun!! The stealth heist! The crew members Cal was teaming up with! Being on CORUSCANT of all places!

I really, really love the gameplay over all. It felt like they took the last game and just improved these tiny little details that I remember from the first one. Tiny things that would seem stupid but also made the game play that much smoother!

KOBOH MY BELOVED IT'S SO MASSIVE SO BEAUTIFUL SO GORGEOUS I LOVE IT THERE VERY VERY MUCH

Also I don't know who decided we should get Fast Travel but I would die for them

I'll probably make a separate post about this, but Cal introduced BD-1 to almost everyone he met-- ALMOST. Not Dagan, and not a couple other people that it was clear he didn't trust. And I for one LOVE that detail

Jedha was so fun other than the fact that I almost died every fifteen seconds

CERE!!!!!!!!! AND MASTER CORDOVA!!!!! WORKING TOGETHER!!!!! WITH THE HIDDEN PATH!!!!!

The Merrical was *chef's kiss* absolutely amazing. They are so April and Andy from Parks and Rec I love them

As a fan of the High Republic books, I thought the Nihil references, along with Dagan Gera and Santari Khri, were pretty neat! He was a fun villain to fight

I really really loved... pretty much all the Greez content? How happy he was to see Cal, and the fact that he had a room set aside for him, and the fact that he ventured back out into the fight just to keep Cal safe. I was mostly neutral on him during JFO, but Battle Scars made me really, really love him, and this game definitely built on that! Also I love that he named his saloon after his grandma (I think?)

Rayvis was an interesting villain! I liked him a lot, especially the final battle with him. They did a good job developing his character

Speaking of villains... I do be feeling some emotions about Cal's fight with Masana Tide. I'm a redemption arc girlie at heart, what can I say? But I see why they did what they did

RICK THE DOOR TECHNICIAN MY BELOVED

THE PONCHO!!!!!!!! THERE WAS A PONCHO!!!!!! I GOT TO WEAR MY BOSS BATTLE OUTFIT TO THE FINAL FIGHT!!!!! IT WAS AMAZING

That one scene where the whole crew was at the campfire together and for like five minutes it felt like everything was going to be okay warmed my heart so much

Yeah I don't remember what happened after that (obvious lie)

I like the new open world features, and the bounties you get to hunt, and the customization and stuff! And those Force tear things are terrifying, but I've completed two of them, and plan to do more as time goes on!

Kriff. Okay I gotta talk about the Horrors at some point. Thanks to my lack of self control, I'd seen some spoilers and knew that Bode was gonna betray us. I didn't know about Cordova (sad) and I didn't know about Bode's secret (SO MUCH SHOCK THAT WAS AN AMAZING PLOT TWIST)

I will say, Cere's final battle against Vader was SO FREAKING COOL IT WAS AWESOME PLAYING AS HER

I also love the fact she set Vader on fire. It's ironic

AULSDKFJLSDKJFLSDKJFLSDKJF AND HER LAST WORDS REALLY JUST SHOT ME IN THE CHEST I'M FINE OKAY I'M FINE (more lies)

Uhhh the Tanalorr plot line was pretty cool! I like the idea of there being somewhere safe from the Empire, to prevent Cal from being killed for plot convinience

Bode's betrayal... yeah I'm not gonna talk about that. I'm not ready, and honestly I have an objectively awful take on the whole situation that no one will like

OKAY THE SCENE WHERE BD-1 REUNITED WITH CAL AFTER HE CHASED AFTER BODE AND JUST LAUNCHED HIMSELF INTO CAL'S ARMS I DON'T THINK ENOUGH OF YOU GUYS KNOW THAT I WOULD DIE FOR THIS DROID

The part where BD-1 was going to scan the trontoshell, and Cal called him BD and THEN BD-1 like he was his mom, full naming him into safety. I love it so much

OH ALSO BD AND KATA'S DYNAMIC IS SO HECKING CUTE

(can you tell I love BD-1?)

I also really, really loved Merrin's entrance. Ten out of ten, the only thing I would change is that Cal should have immediately proposed

Oh! And Merrin and Kata's relationship is so fun I really really like it

Ummm yeah I think I've addressed everything there is to talk about (the most obvious lie yet) so yeah! The brainrot is still strong with me so I might end up posting some screenshots and more thoughts later on!

[junypr-camus]

Just a good ol’ fashioned girl-hates-government dystopia. 

Oh, and mind control.

A CITY WITHOUT BIRDS

GENRE: Science Fiction

SUBGENRES: Dystopia, cyberpunk, hopepunk

THEMES: Found family, change, memories, hope

AUDIENCE: Anyone

P.O.V./TENSE: First person, past tense

Memories can’t be trusted in Seranid. Feisty Terry Silver learns the hard way when she’s forced to flee the utopian City of her childhood, charged with a crime she has no recollection of committing.

Here’s what other people say

���really action packed…. incredibly well written and kept up the pace for the whole book” — Vee Ramage

“I must admit I was totally taken in by Terry and the Professor and the supporting characters.”

“What I like most is that it really takes points from our own flaws in society. The use of the separation between the rich and the poor to cover bigger schemes.”

Interested?

You can find A City Without Birds on Goodreads, and it’s on sale on Amazon.

Or keep reading…

Welcome to Seranid.  You’re happy here. Everybody is.

From the ruins of the Pacific Coast rises Seranid, where

“THE CAMERAS AREN’T WATCHING YOU. YOU’RE WATCHING YOURSELF.”

Terry Silver doesn’t know she’s living a lie. She thinks nothing of the status symbol implanted into every Seranidian at birth. She’s unaware of the dissentious thoughts erased from her mind, or the half-truths fed to millions of Seranidians to maintain the paradisial City. Even, of the fact that she may have taken a life. But when the mysterious Professor Camus Remin whisks her from the crosshairs of Seranid’s task force into the Slums, she finds stolen memories — including ones of her long-dead father, and a people trampled by innovation — who call her the Phoenix that will herald the rebirth of the nation. As Terry tries to foment an uprising, she faces more than her own mortality: resurfacing trauma, the deaths of loved ones, and the looming threat of all-out nuclear war. She’s forced to ask herself: what price would you pay for change?

Seranid’s Government rules through division. Knowledge workers: doctors, engineers, teachers, and scientists are kept in the City, a bubble of utopia, while the rest are cast into the Slums, where poverty, disease, and corruption run rampant. Status symbols implanted at birth label Seranidians and feed them propaganda, altering their thoughts and memories to keep them in line. The task force eliminates any remaining rebels.

The Council, the coalition of the six business heads of Seranid, is the guiding force and source of comfort in many Seranidian’s lives. From controlling the weather in the City to providing aid to those in need, they are the sympathetic heart of Seranid. And the driver behind the City’s endless consumerism.

Propoganda

CHARACTERS

Terry Silver: Fatherless and friendless, Terry finds solace in her work: keyboards, droids, and the soldering iron that burned a hole through her cargo pants. Her defiance gets her in trouble when Seranid’s government targets her for something she can’t even remember.

Terry’s first memory | Sketches | Terry’s mirror

Camus Remin: He has a charming smile and a burning passion for physics, but remains a mystery to his students, burdened by past mistakes. He quickly becomes the father Terry never had — but only later does she learn why he saved her.

Quote | Sketch

Marco Luiz: An old friend of Camus and a resident of the Slums, Marco knows the injustices of Seranid’s system firsthand. Both idealist and kind-hearted, he’s quick to sacrifice himself to help those in need — or just cook them some good roast lamb.

OC’s a ten but…

Janette Thornell: Hardened by past failures, the Resistance leader often clashes with Terry. Yet Janette loves those she protects — most of all, Emmy, who knows the secret of her origins.

Janette’s Secret

Emmy Wood: A City surgeon who defected to the Resistance, Emmy is more a scientist than a fighter. But when fate separates her, Camus, Marco and Terry from the rest of the Resistance, the four must learn to fight – and survive – together.

OC’s a ten but…

SETTING

North America, in the distant future…

Three countries share North America: materialistic Seranid on the West Coast, militaristic Leifen in the East, and modest Mirena, caught between the two superpowers. Each has their own way of surviving in this cruel new world, and each has their own flaws.

More Descriptions | Sketches | Leifen | Mirena | Ideals

psst. hey you. 

Thank you for making it this far! I got a little secret… I’m planning on making A City Without Birds free for a few days later this year (date undecided). Please reblog/comment if you’d like to be tagged when that happens!

[eatommo]

Regalia [d.d]

cw: fully clothed vs naked, helmet comes off, PRIMAL PLAY, cat and mouse, themes of stalking, smidge of brat taming, praise kink, pinv, mando'a, unprotected sex, use of restraints, sensory deprivation, pussy eating (from the back), cream pie, Din is also a big softy but won't admit it per usual

a/n: Hello! This might be the nastiest thing I've written for Mr. Din can, I did get a Frank/Matt/Reader request that I am working on so if you see this anon I haven't forgotten about you I promise! As always like/reblog even feel free to message me! I don't bite I promise. This is also loosely inspired by some of my favorite authors who inspired me to come back to writing, and being this is a little over a one year anniversary for this blog I just want to say thank you to these @pastafossa @no-droids @absurdthirst @wardenparker (and many others in my near dead brain) lovely people who contribute so much to my life in so many ways <3

wc: A brief but nasty 2k

You don’t know if it’s his elevated tone or his body language, but you know that he is irritated.  His shoulders are tight, and his posture is iron as you storm up to him, feet thundering and kicking up blizzards of snow with each step.

“Which one of you decided that the inside of the Cave was a good idea?” You pointedly speak at the wall of metal in front of you, knowing that he’s just as irritated as you are. “Because I will be lucky if I get out of here with the tip of my nose.”

 “The kids' ears are turning grey.” He retorts body only growing stiffer as you retreat to the safety of the crest. “So don’t act like you’re the only one suffering.” 

 You glance down at the hovering pod, the baby sound asleep but his forehead scrunches as if deep in thought.  You feel slightly guilty, you don’t know how good beskar is at keeping him warm but you’d imagine there’s a good chance Mando is uncomfortable as well. “Yeah, well maybe if you actually listened to me instead of insisting on finding a bounty that’s probably  buried in permafrost.”

 “I’ll remember that the next time you ask me to get you caf in a marketplace. Credits don’t come from hyperspace.” His tone is as biting as the wind.  “I’m getting real sick of your attitude.”  He turns his head real sharp, not a hitch in his strong pace, “How was I supposed to know the fob would lead us to the wrong place?” 

You grit your teeth biting back an angry retort as you gaze into the blank slate of his visor, “Maybe you’re just losing your touch.”  Putting on a false sense of acceptance in your voice is the best way to get under his skin, and for just a beat of your heart, your resolve falters as silence falls between you.  Did you go too far? He’s the least deserving of this attitude, you know that.

 “Okay, once we get off this hellscape I’ll show you just how good my touch is sweet girl.”  His cadence immediately washes away the smirk on your face and kickstarts a familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. 

Oh. 

Oh no.

You’ve never seen so many trees. There are groves upon groves of thick-rooted trees that have practically slowed your head start to a literal crawl as you duck down into a crouch.

Even with a late start, he’s seemingly tracked you down in what feels like a matter of minutes. The unmistakable heavy steps crush leaves and debris as he snakes through the ravine, getting closer and closer as you do your best to stay quiet. Your breath comes quickly as if the atmosphere is thin.  He’s instructed you to run, not to hide, but fear is creeping up your spine and you scramble to find purchase after the footsteps fade away.  

There’s a brief moment of relief, as you approach a brook, hoping to use it to disguise your trail. You remove your clunky beat-up boots and step into the clear, surprisingly warm water.  You take a few steps across the sandy bottom of the creek, the unusual feeling of wet sand between your toes grounding you at the moment with a smile and a small laugh.  

The lack of cover doesn't even occur to you until it's too late, just a flash of silver in your peripheral and you're launching yourself downstream,  soaking the thin fabric of your pants.     

His footsteps grow louder until they sound like they're tearing down every tree in his path to get to you.  You divert your path, deciding to truly make a final break for it, as you drop your shoes on the bank.  You climb over roots that are taller than your hips and duck under any that you can fit beneath, but the further you get away from the water the more tangled and frequent the trees become.  

Swearing under your breath, you find purchase on a branch, testing its strength before using it to help bolster your other leg over the root.  The hair on your neck stands straight as a flash of red light shatters the branch you're using to support yourself, sending you back to the ground firmly.  You feel the muzzle of Din’s blaster nuzzle into the small of your back.   

“Easy.” Your breath is coming in pants, and your heart is racing out of your chest, does he expect you to fight? But again his voice runs down your spine, calm and his breathing even, “Do I have to restrain you? Or do you think you're ready to surrender?” 

You chew on your lip, the longer you hesitate the harder the blaster digs into your back, and you begin to feel the weight of his body trap you to the root. The wood is surprisingly soft under your palms, “I yield.” 

You feel the sound before you hear it, a great and deep rumbling in his chest of pure satisfaction, of possessiveness, like a vulptex guarding their catch.  “Good.” 

There's an increasing amount of pressure on your body, shoving you until you're practically bent in half over the wood and he’s pulling your hands behind your back.  You feel the weight of something encapsulate your wrist and then the other before you can even protest your wrists are bound tightly together behind your back.  You stammer in surprise “I said I yield.” 

“I know, this is more for…” The vocoder cuts, and you wonder if he’s turned it off or even changed his mind before the next weighted words settle deep in your core, “leverage.” 

Your body involuntarily shutters, fighting the urge to moan as he begins to strip you from your clothes.  “This is what we were doing?”  Confidence suddenly bolstered by the neediness in his movements, practically tearing your trousers down your legs.  “I could’ve been naked this whole time.” 

He’s practically growling over your shoulder, as he tosses his gloves onto the thick branch, “Next time.” He uses his knee to nudge your thighs apart and plants a hand on the wood next to your hip lining himself up, you wince in anticipation knowing the stretch will be painful.  

Instead, you heard a curse, and his body’s warmth is gone for a moment, all you can listen to is metal on metal as he tears the rising phoenix from his back, and he takes the cape from his shoulders, and lays it on the wood beneath you in one fluid motion.  

Kriff, in the heat of a chase and what's likely going to be the roughest fuck of your life, he’s still worried about the roughness of the wood on your soft skin.  Under your breath, you mumble a quick “Thank you.” that he dismisses with a soft caress down your spine. 

He feels the tension in your back beneath his palm, as frantic as the need to fuck you is and his normal urge to make it hurt just a little bit not waning, he is aware of just how big his cock is and decides to drag this whole charade to both of your wit's end.  “Eyes shut for me C’yare.” 

It’s usually unlike you to do as told, but there’s a cutting-edge of a promise in his tone as if he is trying to encourage you to comply for your own benefit.  So you do, and in an even more unlikely turn of events, you hear the hiss of his helmet unlatching. Before your scrambled adrenaline-riddled body can even comprehend what's happening it is being lowered over your head.  Barely cracking an eye open you realize your vision is null, there is nothing but black for your searching eyes to find. 

Your heart beats away in your chest, and the thrill of being caught is now only amplified in a different sense.  You begin to wonder why he decided to take this risk when he is usually so careful, so painstakingly stubborn, but then his hot tongue licks up the seam of your core.  You curse, his stubble is rougher than usual, and it tickles the back of your thighs, as he tortuously licks into your slit, drinking up each bit of arousal he earns.  

“You’re so beautiful for me.” He uses his fingers to separate your lips, displaying the flushed skin of your cunt to his visor-free eyes,  “Mesh’la.”  He plants a single lingering kiss on your clit, letting his nose nuzzle against your entrance teasingly. 

 Your knees buckle as you picture yourself laid out for him, pathetically draped over a root and grinding back on his face naked and desperate, while he is dressed in his full regalia, minus the helmet that he places so trustingly upon your head.  Swallowing a whine, you start to rock your hips against his mouth in a silent plea for something, anything.

In contrast to his profession, he can be incredibly gentle, at least in the beginning.  He suckles and licks at the supple skin of your pussy, coaxing pleasure out of your body with a languid accuracy.  

The sudden change from running for your life to being walked to the edge of orgasm is enough to give you whiplash.  “You’re doing so well for me.” You know he likely can’t see you but you nod anyway, the praise coming from right against your skin as if he can’t bear to leave your pussy for a breath.  “Cum for me so I can take my prize,” Another lingering kiss,  “Sweet girl.”

You continue to rock your hips against his face, and he nuzzles deeper sucking your clit into his mouth and shaking his head back and forth, gently but with haste you can feel vibrating through his own body.  Your climax all but wrestles you to the ground, knees giving out as you practically sit back onto his face, riding the waves of the orgasm with shudders and cries. 

Unable to stop himself he nips at the curve of your ass as he stands up, his cock heavy in the flight suit and weeping against his much cooler skin.  You take the moment to try and catch your breath, chest heaving and body still vibrating more than you ever thought possible. The smell of him is surrounding you thanks to his cape, barely making it past the helmet's defenses.

He’s lined up at your entrance within a matter of moments, whatever patience and grace he’s shown you thus far is gone as he plunges his thick and painfully hard cock deep, striking up another fire in your belly.  

The plates of beskar adorning his thighs dig into your skin, undoubtedly leaving bruises for him to apologize for later, but the pain only adds to the delicious resonating pleasure with each punishing thrust of his hips.  You can hear the root of the tree creaking with his efforts, threatening to break with each slap of your bodies joining together.  The pace is inhuman, he’s fucking into you like he wants you to lose the ability to walk, scrubbing so deliciously against that spot that makes you see stars.  Then he remembers the cuffs. 

One of his hands leaves your hips and wraps tight around the link joining your hands, he starts tugging you back onto his cock with each thrust, fucking deeper than you ever thought possible.  

You start to clamp down around him, and as your body goes limp against him he growls, hunching down to bite on your shoulder.  The cool shock of his chest plate mixed with the feeling of his teeth in your skin is enough to send you barreling over the edge.

The feeling of your pussy baring down on him draws that delicious tingle at the base of his spine up until his brain and his endless praise are scrambled with the white heat of his orgasm.  His hips stutter a few more thrusts, as he pumps ropes of his hot cum deep inside your pussy.  

He manages a loose fist against the log so that he may trail some kisses down your back and across your shoulders, it’s not often that he gets to have these moments with you, “Eyes closed again C’yare.” 

In the afterglow of your orgasms, he gives you the most gentle and loving of kisses on your mouth, before he returns to being the iron-clad hunter you’ll never doubt again.

[1-800-local-slut]

The Scientist Chapter 2

Summary: It's Poe's first day with the Scientist, and after a strange start, Poe's starting to see the Scientist in a very special light

I'm kind of nervous about this chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it! <3

Warnings: smut, masturbation (male), oral, male receiving, Poe loves boobs, pinv smut

Series Masterlist

Next part <3

____________________________________________

It was early, earlier than Poe was used too when he woke up. A strange humming noise, akin to a wheel driving down the hallway woke Poe at 4:30, a full hour earlier than usual. Running a hand down his face, he eased himself up onto his elbows, still on his stomach and squinted his eyes towards the door of his room, trying to identify the noise. As he turned over onto his back, he adjusted his necklace, the cool silver chain with the ring rubbing against his neck uncomfortably. Still, he’d never take it off. 

Then, the humming noise stopped. Right outside his door to be more precise, causing Poe to jump to alertness. Anything stopping at your door in the dead hours of the morning was never great. Still under the thick fog of sleep, he tilted his head to the side and rubbed his eyes to clear them. He heard the sound of something being jammed into the key pad outside of his bedroom and he fully shot up in his bed, watching the door intently. His heart rate sped up, his hands itching to reach onto the floor where he threw his pants last night to grab his blaster. Then, the door slid open and Poe laid there in his bed, expression still clouded in confusion and a bit of fear.

In his door way, a large pink robot, that looked like CP3O but some how more humanoid stood. It had smooth skin, but had some ridges  and very buff looking metal arms. Instead of two legs, it stood on two large wheels. He had never seen this droid before, and wasn’t even sure it was a a droid in the first place. Was that some one in a costume? Was he hallucinating?  

The ‘droid’ (because he still wasn’t entirely sure) glided fully into the room but Poe was ultimately speechless. He was certain he would be fine but at the same time, how had he never seen this big ass thing roaming rolling around? It rolled a few more feet into the room, then bent at the hips, it’s arms now dangling over the ground. Then it’s arm extended and it placed a small flat disk on the ground and rolled backwards. The disk lit up and a beam of light shot up. It was a hologram of the Scientist. Squinting, Poe brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. The morning was getting stranger and stranger, but surely there was some explanation coming. 

“What is this?” Poe’s voice croaked like a frog as he checked the time. 4:35 AM. He was hoping to get this thing out of his room in time to go back to sleep and maybe get another 30 minutes of much needed rest. Surely if this thing was a droid it could talk at the very least. To his chagrin it simple let out a low, deep, buzz and shook its head (rather slowly) which gave Poe the impression that this thing wasn’t easy to communicate with like BB-8. Sighing, Poe ran his hand down his face and rolled his eyes. The droid pressed a button and the hologram began to move.

“Wait, how do I do this?” She asked in confusion. She was sat at a large glass desk that was covered in cups, papers and cheap food wrappers. Her hair was pinned back with a headband to keep her large curls from dropping into her face. She looked confused, which was ironic to Poe. Head of the Science Department but can’t figure out how to record something. It was funny, and part of him felt it was cute. 

“You just talk, I already turned it on babe.” Merca’s voice spoke from behind the recorder.  The Scientist made a small ‘o’ with her red lips and her eyes lit up in understanding. Then she slightly nodded with a small smile. Turning her face back towards the recorder, she cleared her throat.

“Oh alright. Uhm…” straightening her clothes, she wiped her mouth like there was something on it. A small teasing laugh escaped Poe. The woman looked so nervous. She was cute, he’d give her that. But then he remembered that she probably created this large, pink monster that had just rolled into her room.

“Good morning Mr. Dameron. Sorry to interrupt you so early, but I realized I never told you what time we start work. Merca and I are already here, so if you could follow Binksy to us, I’ll explain everything to you and what we’ll be doing. Please pardon the interruption. Also, please wear clothing you don’t mind getting dirty. Okay, is that it?” Her eyes drifted back to Merca and one of her fingers coiled a few strands of hair around her finger. In all truth, Poe stopped fully listening when he realized he now had to get up and go to his new job. However, Poe was more focused on the fact that this thing (surely it couldn’t be authorized to be called a droid) was named Binksy.

“Yeah, just gimme a sec-” Merca’s voice cut out as the recording ended and Poe groaned. Who the hell on base starts work this early? She was already up and ready, probably showered, took a shit and ate breakfast already. He doesn’t even get up and start moving until like 5:30 And she was already up? This proving to be a very arduous punishment.

⭐⭐⭐

Following the droid, he was taken to the same floor as last night. It was 4:50 AM now but the bottom floor was buzzing with life. A bunch of people he’d never seen ran around carrying papers, folders, coffee, and more. Poe looked around in awe, his brown eyes drinking in his surroundings. New sounds were heard all around him and in the large rooms with windows there were people doing work at their messy desks and some people working with small animals. In his awe, Poe stopped paying attention. He continued wandering through the maze of people, until he felt a thump connect to his chest. A short man had run straight into him. Normally if you ran into someone, you’d just say sorry and move on with your busy day. However, it seemed like he had interrupted this man on the most important day of his life and he simply could not let it slide.

“You don’t know how to walk through a fucking hallway? Move!” Shoving him with more strength than expected, his gloved hands left a wet spot on Poe’s black t-shirt. Poe blinked in shock, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as his brow furrowed. He quickly spun to pursue the man but was stopped by a low beep from Binksy. Turning back, Poe rolled his eyes and continued on his path, avoiding more cranky  people. Ironically, many of these people looked exhausted, and some looked half dead and others looked entirely like zombies. Like they had to drag themselves out of their graves to come to work this morning. 

Following Binksy, he realized this place was bigger than the dungeon it looked like last night. It fact, it was quite pretty. Plants, animals, charts and more interesting things stood in each room he passed. They passed the room he had seen last night, and there’s was no one in there. Curiosity filled him. If this wasn’t where the Scientist worked, then where was it? Finally they arrived at the end of the large hallway, and there was a large door. He hadn’t seen this last night. 

“So…behind here?” He asked Binksy. His previous attempts to talk to the damn thing mostly failed, considering it just made low and deep noises that made him uneasy for some reason. The droid shook its head. Then it entered a code into the key pad and rolled in front of Poe’s line of sight so he couldn’t see the code. Stepping back so he wouldn’t get ran over, Poe rolled his eyes. Like he was interested in breaking and entering into a lab he didn’t even know existed until just now.

The door beeped three times and then slid open. Another door sat at the end of the hall, and this space was different from the calamity that laid just outside. There was also an absence of noise, instead there was the low hum of the fluorescent lights that lay under the white floor. 

On his left side, there was a large glass pane showing a neat, well lit office. Inside, Forian wore what seemed to be full colorful padding and was waving around a large stick as he seemingly jumped around and waved his arms, making a whooping noise. Then Poe watched in horror as a large creature slunk out from behind a potted plant. It was no creature Poe had ever seen in all his 32 years of living. Forian slid backwards behind a large cabinet, hiding as the animal slowly came out, hissing. Then it looked straight at Poe, who reached for his blaster but remembered this was one way glass. It had black eyes that peered deeply into Poe’s soul and weirdly red skin, with strange bumps along the spine and black feathers across its body. As Poe stood observing the creature, Forian jumped out, swung down the large stick and knocked the animal on its head. It fell over onto its side and it’s beak opened in what Poe could assume was a horrified squawk. Forian stood over it, beating it until it went still. He stopped, removed his protective gear, put some strange collar on the animal, then grabbed it by a strange talon and threw it into a large cage. The exhausted man plopped down into his seat and then took out a small box, pressed a button and started talking into it. Blinking, Poe slowly turned away.

To his right, there was who he assumed was Merca. Her office was the polar opposite of Forian. It was pitch dark with splotches of neon painted colors across the windows and more. She wore a welding mask and was seemingly doing nothing. She wore large green boots and large yellow gloves. She also wore a very large black coat, more akin to a tarp. She stood perfectly still, with her back to the glass. Poe, feeling creeped out, debated knocking on the glass to see if she was alive, or passed out where she stood. His thoughts were interrupted though, as a slimy substance began to drip from the ceiling and Merca was strapped onto the ceiling in a harness that was helping her crawl across it. Now he struggled to figure out if it wasn’t Merca in the suit, who or what it was, and what was dripping from the ceiling.

 Merca had a large flamethrower strapped onto her back and was breathing heavily. Small tendrils from the black goo were moving around, and some of it was splattered across the room. Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Merca dipped her fingers into the black goo and drew a symbol onto her forehead, one onto her left cheek and one one of her right cheek. Slipping on a large metal mask, Poe watched her kick her small frame to the opposite side of the room, the harness helping her fly. She dropped down onto the floor and turned on the flame thrower, melting down the imposter as she sprinted at it. She violently stomped on it and then took off her mask and flame thrower. He watched her throw her head back and flex her arms in front of her, before screeching so loud that he was able to hear it through the glass. Then she ripped off some cloths she had wrapped around her body. Reaching over, she turned on a light, and all the black goo from the ceiling as well as the random notes scribbled all over the wall in bright neon colors were gone. Instead there was a messy office with overturned tables, chairs and cans of energy drinks all over the place. On Merca, there was a deep, black cut across her arm.

Blinking slowly, Poe turned back around. He opted to simply mind his business instead of concerning himself with people who weren’t his boss. Somewhere deep in his brain he giggled, at calling such a small but mighty woman his boss. Poe wasn’t used to calling any other woman that wasn’t Leia his boss. 

“...Okay…so…experiments are taking place.” Was all Poe could really muster while he glanced back at the droid. Poe couldn’t help but talk to the thing. He wasn’t used to not talking for this long, considering he never shuts up. But instead, he was in a strange office, clearly with a mad man, a crazy woman and a creepy robot. Judging by the sound and swift beating Forian just gave that bird thing, and the violent mashing he just watch Merca deliver, Poe would rather the robot.

“So…he works with animals, and she does welding?” Another low, deep beeping noise. Holy fuck, where was his boss right now, why was he watching people beat animals close to death, and cauterize themselves while talking to a freaky droid? 

“Okay, where’s the Commander?”  He had enough of watching pure insanity take place at just, a glance at his watch told him it was only 5:05 in the morning. 5:05 and he watched a woman preform surgery on herself and a man almost kill a freaky bird. 

Pointing to a large doorway, the droid rolled towards another door. After pushing another keycode, there was the biggest office he’d seen yet. In the office, sat the scientist while people waved papers around, yelling at her and two people were locked in argument. She sighed, seemingly exhausted. Two manicured fingers pressed to her temple as she pressed her red lips together and rolled her eyes. The droid rolled up once more and then opened the door for Poe. Sliding inside, it seemingly entered sleep mode as the two glowing lights that were lit on its stomach turned off. Poe stepped in to the mature, but slightly messy office. She looked very annoyed from the crowd, the loud arguing and more.

“If you could just listen! We need to start spending less money on helping other departments! We can’t put all of our funds into helping keep repairing different issues from different departments, our budget can’t afford it! The biology section is struggling as it is.” He recognized the man as the one who tossed him out of his way earlier. Taking a deep breath, the woman sighed and sat up straight, clearly trying to keep her patience. Poe felt slightly better knowing this man wasn’t just an annoyance to him, but to the Scientist as well.

“Yes, I am aware. It is not my choice to give our budget to others. But in our last meeting, I told secured you partnership with the head of the medical department. You’re budgets are to be shared, and as far as I am concerned, the biology section is no longer under my jurisdiction related to finances. There is nothing I can do to help you, you have a problem take it up with General Organa. Next.” She waved her hand, her voice no longer soft and timid, instead stern and commanding. The man huffed and skulked off to the side. 

“The chemistry section is requesting you to come authorize our next presentation.” A woman with curly orange hair and scar lines on her face spoke to her next. She had purple lipgloss on and handed her a paper. The scientist put on her glasses, as she had a slight pout that made Poe notice how gorgeous she really was. She was focused, and stressed but looked gorgeous none the less. Her energy was commanding and elegant. The way her eyes scanned the paper enticed him, the way her delicate hands and smooth skin ran over the papers on her desk enticed him more. Maybe he was just horny as of late, but something about this woman was drawing him to her.

“I’ll stop by later,” she noticed Poe and her eyes shone in relief, as she took the paper from his hands graciously. He could see why she needed an assistant. Just seeing the madness in the two offices outside of hers caused him great stress, he can’t imagine coming to work and seeing that every morning. 

“Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to Poe Dameron. He’ll be my personal assistant until I have a permanent replacement.” She stood from her seat, and walked over to him, put her two hands up like she was showing something on a game show. Poe smiled and waved. His eyes scanned the room and those in the room looked back at him.

“Hi everyone, it’s nice to meet you. I’m glad to be working with you.” Some people recognized him, and others couldn’t care less about him. Before Poe could fully drink in his surroundings, he felt a soft tap on his arm and saw the woman motioning to bend down to his ear. Leaning down to her red painted lips, he smelt the soft scent of cinnamon, marshmallows and vanilla. He also smelt cocoa butter, and whatever she had been using in her hair was making him swoon. How could one woman smell so good? In a totally normal way (he tried to tell himself that) he wanted to hold her and sniff her. 

“Can you take these and just remind me about them later?” She asked and he nodded, shaken out of his thought. Her voice was soft, like it was yesterday but she had to stand on the tips of her toes even in her heels to get close enough to his ear. Poe flushed at how close she was to him and she went back to her desk, sitting down and crossing her legs over one another. 

“Okay. Whose next?” She asked as two woman raised their hands in unison trying to be picked to go next. A sigh left the her lips. She glanced over to Poe and their eyes made contact. 

“It’ll be a long day.” she took a pause and pinched her brows together. 

⭐⭐⭐

It was now 11:30 AM and Poe felt so tired. He felt like he got kicked in the neck and run over by a train. His eyes felt heavy, he felt like he had aged at least six years since that morning. After that chaotic meeting, first thing in the morning, he watched the woman promptly doze off at her desk for a few minutes. He thought she was dead at first, but  then she jumped up and blew through stacks of paper work. He thought he was busy but looking at her, he wasn’t even sure how the woman was standing. 

Six meetings, two observations, a training session, assisting the medical department, a medical consultation and then dinner with some other people to smooth over something called ‘the glue incident’. Then a few personal errands (dress fitting, scheduling doctors appointments, starting laundry) and all of that just to end with another lab experiment with Merca and Forian. Just looking over the schedule made him anxious. 

Now she had just finished an early meeting and sat on a bench in the hallway upstairs (seriously, with how often she’s had to run around upstairs, how had he never noticed her?) and looked deflated as she sat outside the meeting room. She was the last to leave, after she had to yell at everyone in the room and even threw out anyone who she didn’t need to speak too. Poe and two other people stood in the hallways listening to her yell words he didn’t even understand. Then he watched the other people scamper out of the room. After the other two standing next to him left as well, he watched her leave float out of the room on wobbly legs.  The color was drained from her face, giving her a look like she hadn’t put lotion on that morning and she pressed a hand against the wall before plopping down onto the bench. He couldn’t help but notice her thick thighs press against the bench as she knocked her head back against the wall.

“Hey…4 down, 2 to go!” sitting next to her, Poe tried to cheer her up. She glanced over and lookup at him through her eyelashes, her large irises staring into his. She truly was beautiful. He was studying her face, and his eyes flickered onto her deep red lips. He wanted to know if her lip gloss was cherry flavored of not. She grumbled, shutting her eyes. Long lashes fluttered shut with a heavy sigh and a pang of pity went through his heart. Resolved to at least try and help, Poe walked down the hallways and found a vending machine. He got her a small, iced tea and took it back to her, hoping she would like the salted caramel flavor he had picked. Pressing the cold drink against her neck, he smiled at her as her eyes shot open.

“Thank you…” she said softly, with a small blush warming her cheeks, like she wasn’t used to people doing favors for her. Poe nodded graciously before sitting back down next to her, albeit a bit closer to her than before. She opened the drink and smiled softly. Gratefulness crossed her features. Taking a nice long drink, Poe looked at her intently. Something about her was so graceful and alluring that he couldn’t help himself. A few drops of condensation from the drink dropped onto her neck line and dripped down the curve of her breast. Poe watched intently and nearly broke a sweat. He felt just a bit pathetic.

‘Poe, you’re a grown man.’ He scolded himself. He could feel his blood preparing to rush to his dick and his crossed his legs over one another. He wasn’t even hard, just getting there. Like a slowly inflating balloon.

“Oh that’s cold.” She muttered as she used her hand to wipe the cold water from the depths of her breast. Poe could feel his heart beating in his chest. Holy hell, what was it about something so simple turning him on so easily. Not exactly that, more so just the fact that she didn’t even know what she was doing but was still seducing him so easily. 

Then he saw Binsky rolled down the opposite end of the hall way and any thoughts about to beautiful woman before him died. Poe grimaced at the droid and shivered.

“Did you design that thing?” Poe whispered, partly afraid it would heard him and try to take a leg. Looking over, she sat up when she saw the droid approaching before she adjusted her clothing and stood up. He followed, standing up next to her.

“Binksy? Of course I did, he’s my baby.” She cooed affectionately as Binksy rolled up to them and she stood on top of his stopped wheel and kissed its cheek, leaving a glossy stain. Her nails held his face. Poe shivered, part of him was jealous that the freaky robot got a kiss.

“I put my blood, sweat and tears into him. Six years to be exact.” A prideful grin graced her angelic featured. She planted another kiss on the opposit cheek and glanced down at him. Jumping down and taking a few adjusting steps, she waited for Binksy to announce why he rolled himself out of her office.

“Message from Merca.” The robot then handed the scientist a letter. She took it after thanking Binksy and stepped down. Her eyes scanned over the letter. Her brows furrowed and her eyes quickly reread the lines, and darted almost everywhere. Poe raised an eyebrow himself, now curious to see what exactly she was seeing. Suddenly she threw her arms up in anger, a sigh leaving her lips.

“We have to go make a new fucking X-Wing?!” She asked in anger, her nails pressing into the page.  Binksy nodded.

“An X-Wing was decimated yesterday afternoon. We are now short one, General Organa has made it known we need to create parts for an engine and have them passed to the mechanical department. From there they will begin the reconstruc-” The droid stopped, seeing his creators hand held up and her other hand pinching her eyebrows.

“Thank you Binksy, please tell Merca I’ll be there as soon as possible.” After rather aggressively handing the robot his letter and sending him away. Seeing how angry she was made Poe nervous, but also confused. He didn’t realize it would be the science department rebuilding the inner parts of his X-Wing. He didn’t realize it and now he’ll have to help fix it and he felt angry at himself for adding onto his work. 

“I swear, it’s like people don’t realize when they fuck shit up I have to fix it! There’s a whole floor in here that no one notices until they need something fixed or the AC stops working or something.” She ranted to Poe as he watched her start to pace back and forth. It was a bit funny hearing her rant all angry when she still sounded so cute. Still though, his brain started to wander. She is responsible for making x-wings? That means he’s responsible for making x-wings now.

“...I had no idea you were the one making X-Wings.” Poe admitted, while also nervous she’d realize it was his X-Wing she had to build. No realization was visible and Poe fought back a relived sigh.

“Well, not all of them! But I still have to oversee these things, help with test runs, all that shit. If I don’t then you, and all your friends will explode before we can even get close to the enemy.” She let out a deep sigh. 

“Seriously, who did you think makes your power generators? Those things don’t just come from thin air.” She mumbled and he nodded. He suddenly felt guilty for all the times he blew a fuse in his engine, even the times when it wasn’t his fault. She let out a long, heavy, depressed sigh and moved her hands in front of her stomach in a calming motion. Then again, her angry face was sex. She looked vicious in a way that turned Poe on. A lot.

“Why don’t you take lunch? Just meet me in  my office in an hour.” She suggested to him him softly as she folded her arms over her chest and put her drink down. The way she was looking at him was making Poe crave her for lunch. He could feel his pants start to swell and could only hope she didn’t notice. His throat was dry for some reason. Clearing his throat he coughed a bit. 

“Okay.” He smiled nodded and scampered off to relive himself of his special ‘issue’.

⭐⭐⭐

Poe entered his room with haste and removed his jacket. Plopping down on his couch, his brain started to wander through the day. From seeing her this morning when his brain convinced him she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, to a few minutes ago drops of water cascaded down the valley of her breast. Beautiful. That was the first word that came to his mind as he tried to describe her. Beautiful and brilliant. A full day of following her around and watching her put her mind to work. Getting up, he walked to the bathroom, planing to just wash his hands and find something to eat. As he entered the bathroom, he saw his red towel and got a flash back.

Her red lips flooded his mind and part of him wondered if they would stain his lips with kisses. The heat in his stomach started to grow and his hands wandered to his belt to unbuckle his pants. He wondered what type of bras she wore. Surely, she knew how stunning she was. Maybe she wore lacy bras and underwear. He pictured it, the curves of her skin being enunciated by deep blue lace or maybe a sexy black. Well. Maybe he didn’t need lunch immediately. 

He reached over and pumped some lotion into his palm as his brain began to create a scenario. 

He’d come down into her office, as began to message the lotion over his hard length. She would be down there, obviously. Stressed out and tired as always, and maybe she’d be laying back in her desk chair. A dark skirt with black stockings, from that first night he met her, with a button up shirt. She would get up and see him, and greet him with her beautiful voice. Maybe he’d approach her slowly and would stand over her. Then she’d touch him. She’d reach up and start massaging his hardened dick through his slacks much to his surprise. He moved his hand slightly faster, massaging his thumb over the sensitive tip of his cock. He could picture her pushing him onto the couch and then crawling on top of him.

Confessing that she was attracted to him, unbuttoning his pants and planting kisses on his v-line. His hips would jump from the sensitivity and she would pull his pants down slowly, the fabric rubbing him would be tortuous. Maybe she’d put her knowledge of the human body to use and move his boxers up and down teasingly, precum leaking from the tip. 

“Shit…” He muttered in both the real world and his fantasy. Slowly, she unbuttoned her top and shyly revealed a dark purple lace bra, that had to hold her boobs that were in his eyes the definition of perfection. He felt like she’d wear a front clasped bra. Two mounds that he couldn’t wait to run his tongue over a bite into. He wanted to leave marks all over her breast, leaving her whimpering beneath him. She asked him if he liked what he was seeing and he would nod eagerly. Then she’d kiss the tip and run her tongue over it. Then she’d take his whole dick in her mouth shyly, and glance up at him through her lashes. She’d gag a bit when he hits the back of her throat and he’d lightly grip her curly hair. Guiding her to bob her head up and down slowly.

Poe felt like he could actually feel her mouth wrapped around him. Granted he always had a vivid imagination, this was incredible even for him. His left arm moved faster and he started to buck his hips into his hand. Grabbing the edge of his shirt, he shoved it into his mouth, his moans were getting louder. He felt that familiar pressure building in his stomach and was just imagining guiding her to put her tits in his face. 

In his mind, he had torn through her stockings and unbuckled her bra, freeing her chest. He took one of her brown nipples into his mouth and gently bit down as she let out a shocked moan. He’d take both of his hands and guide her hips down, so her soft silk panties would rub across his dick. He could feel her ridding him while he sucked on her perfect boobs. His muscular arms commanded her body to move up and down. The moans she was letting out were driving him closer to the edge. Finally, it happened. She raised her hips, moving her underwear to the side and then sliding down onto his cock. 

The warm, wet, feeling enveloped him as she let out soft whimpers. Poe had started sucking on her neck, leaving hickeys across her neck. She chanted his named like a prayer for mercy as he moved her body and slammed his hips up into her. Pulling her into a searing kiss, he exploded inside of her. His hips stuttered into his palm and he came hard, feeling a head rush. He had shot all over his stomach and he kept massaging his softening length, his head thrown back while he pressed against the sink. 

When he came down, he let out a soft sigh and ran his right hand through his hair. His thoughts kept wandering to the sexy scientist, who he just jerked off too and was gonna have to meet in 45 minutes. This was going to be a very long and hard punishment.