#jedi ofc

[rae-gar-targaryen]

darling, how could i fear any hurricane? [qimir/the stranger x force sensitive!reader]

Summary: Neither the backwater planet you’d chosen for yourself, nor the sanctity of your own mind, is safe from the nightly visitations of your dream stranger. Is he real, or just another trick of the mind? And what of the power he promises? Desire, he’d spoken of. Desire, desire, desire…

Pairing: Qimir/The Stranger x Force-Sensitive!reader [my reader is written ambiguously, but as with all of my reader inserts are written with a Latina!reader in mind]

Warnings: 18+ please – fingering, dry humping, the brief mention of choking, Qimir being a seductive motherfucker, relatively minor smut, all things considered. The briefest descriptions of violence; reader has female anatomy.

Word Count: 5.7k of sinful soliloquy and definitely no manipulation. No, you want this power, don’t you??

A/N: Breaking my writing drought with this. I don’t know if it’s any good, and no one asked for it. But I’m glad to be sharing my writing again. Please be gentle!! Also, if you’ve ever read my Mandalorian x princess!reader fic, there’s an easter egg in here for you!

--

The verdant planet of Vorduun was known for very little – A small, outer-world, far from the shiny Core planets that boast chrome, progress, and bureaucracy. Lush plantlife, a fertile place with brimming riverbanks, and jungles teeming and thrumming to life with flora and fauna at the turn of the seasons. Off the edge of the map. Off the edge of the world. A perfect place to hide.

To lose yourself. 

And the night is stifling, to say the least. Of all the Vorduunian summers you’d endured in your self-isolation, this one had to be the worst. The months’ long deluge of spring rains had made for a stiflingly humid summer, the green jungle steaming with sticky heat. If a saving grace was to be found in the swelter, it was that the night skies were unlike everything you’d ever beheld – a far cry from the fluorescent pollution endemic of your years on Courscant. 

Tonight's Vorduunian sky is no exception – a clear expanse of rich velvet, stars like diamonds crushed into the smooth folds of the expansive sky. Twinkling and winking richly down at you through the gaping slats of the shack you now called home. 

You twist, a serpent in your own threadbare bedsheets, attempting to find comfort in the sticky summer heat of the planet, chasing the elusive promise of coolness as you flip your pillow to the other side with a huff. 

Kind of a sick game, if you thought about it. That if you weren’t running from something, you were chasing something else. 

At present? Chasing a good night’s rest. Preferably dreamless, if you were honest. Your dreams of late are plagued with all sorts of incomprehensible flashes, feelings of being watched, feverish and hazy. Your subconscious’s foreboding certainty that if you’d only just turn around, you’d be met with a face that was not your own -– the disquieting sense of something, or someone, lurking just around a corner. Sprinting down echoing hallways with promises, greatness, a warrior's oath, all just out of reach, certain that if you’d slowed your pace, whatever was pursuing you might just snatch you, an unseen stranger.

Other nights, the dreams were different – the unflinching and unchanging grin set in a mask of metalloid teeth, baring themselves at you . Of ever-watchful eyes judging, as you forced yourself through training drills. The disapproving shake of your Master’s head, his disappointment palpable and always, always directed at only you . The seizing terror of being dropped into combat with no saber – of being skewered through by an unseen shadow with a red plasma blade. Of walls closing in on you. Of the Knights whom you had once considered your friends turning their backs on you while you fought tooth and nail. Of your lungs filled with your unreleased screams – of terror or frustration, you weren’t sure – pulling you down beneath the surface of your failure until you drowned in the disappointment of others’ unfulfilled expectations. Of hands on an unseen body tinkering with phials of something, producing poisonous concoctions of sickly green that the unseen stranger dripped down your throat, pouring them past your lips with sure, warm fingers pressing on your tongue. You swore you could feel the poison upon your waking, the phantom feeling of liquid shredding your veins with horrific heat, your heart thundering. 

Other nights the dreams were different yet, still. Of shadows shedding their inky cloak to reveal hands that caressed. Of hands that held you and wiped your tears. Of thorns falling from vines – leaving what once had pricked and scratched you to now soothe with velvety softness as the vines wound their way around your wrists, tugging you into an unseen embrace with whispers of promises humming in your ears like the tufty wings of insects. And you would go willingly. Of the warm breath of another in your ear, their body warm behind you, distinct in its softness from that of the sunwarmed cliffs the two of you would watch the sunset from, just you and your unseen stranger. Of those same metalloid teeth melting into a radiant smile of brilliant white, beheld in a sharp jaw – the critique of disapproving masters replaced by his balmy, sublime approval. 

Of the tease and taste of his cinnamon lips brushing your own, the fluttering fan of lashes along the peaks of your cheekbones. Of warm, wan whispers of want , desire , soothing your ears. Of warm, fine-boned, assured hands atop your own, guiding yours in a sensuous glide along your own skin. Promises of m ore, more, more as silken lips slipped their way along the column of your throat – your hitching gasps met with his rumbling hums of satisfaction that lasted in your ears for the duration of the following day. Of the gentle lapping of water over smooth-rocked shores, a hand grasping yours with a promise of power. Yet again of more, more, more, if you’d just … Well, you weren’t sure. 

What you were sure of was that it had been weeks of these dreams. Your exhaustion was tugging at the corners of your reality, manifesting itself into silly mistakes – a slipped knife while cutting your meals, or the prickling feeling of someone watching from the dark corner of your room. At times, you weren’t sure what was real and what was dreamscape. A slow descent into madness, torment that felt justified, somehow –-

This purgatory was clearly your penance for your failure. To atone for the fact that you could never be more than what you are now – a former padawan cast out of a renowned Order, thanks in part to her own passions and propensities, roiling rages, and lilting lust. A warrior stripped of all pomp and credential. A blistering reminder of something never to be, of someone you could never be. 

And so here you were. Piteous and exiled in the jungles of Vorduun with no one other than your occasional unseen dream stranger for company. And what of tonight? Had you slept? Were you asleep? The hazy jungle heat made it impossible to tell. When your days consist of the same, tedious routine maintenance to your little corner of jungle, purely isolated, save for irregular treks to the nearest settlement to barter … And when you tossed and turned your nights away in fitful fugue states of half-awake melded with oppressive dreams – well, who was to say what was really real?  

The ghost of a touch along your exposed shoulder didn’t merit a response … Until it happened again. Causing you to sit bolt upright in bed, eyes tracking the room for any disturbance – seen or unseen. 

That prickle, so like static rippling across your skin couldn’t be the Force. No, no. It was the trickle of sweat down the back of your neck, and nothing else. What reason would you have to feel the Force here, now? 

Just another heated night, just another heated dream….

And now, were your eyes deceiving you, or were the shadows in the corner of your room were moving, swirling into shape as a well-toned arm emerges from the darkness, raised in a gesture of … peace? And the rest of him follows, stepping into the muted illumination from your single gaslamp that sputters in the corner of your room, casting his shadow along the opposite wall, sinuous and slinking as he slowly approaches. 

You spring from your bed, eyes darting to the loose slat in your floor where you housed your ill-used saber, quickly considering the relative size of your room and how many steps it would take him to reach you, arms outstretched, to snuff the life from you before you could call the blade to your hand . 

His eyes track yours, clocking the floorboard, before placing both hands up in front of him now, a plea – 

“You don’t need that,” he murmurs, taking a tentative step toward you. And whether it was the room that shrank around you both, or that was just his presence in your space – so unused to anyone but you – you weren’t sure.

“Need what?” Play dumb, and he won't have any reason to harm you, leaving you an opportunity to strike. Your favorite trick, a minor deception for a tactical advantage.

He steps into the dim, flickering light of the gas lamp, a mild smirk blooming along his full lips, the lamplight warming his skin.

“Your Jedi weapon.”

You glance once more between the loose floorboard and the man slowly approaching you, cocking your head as his features became revealed to you, your mind tickling with recognition as you noted the sharp angle of his jaw and the baleful, syrupy darkness of his eyes –

“You,” you breathe. “I know your face.”

“Do you?” His eyes meet yours, searching. 

Yes. You had a good memory for faces, and his you had seen a few times before. Your trips to the nearest settlement every tenday for the open-air market to barter what you had cultivated from the land around your ramshackle home for fruit, thread, and other goods you didn’t often come by on your own. You had seen him at a stall selling tinctures and other apothecary-type goods. You’d never approached, of course. Hadn’t had a need for burn creams or toxins. But there was no denying the swooping lock of hair that would curtain over his eyes, the sharp angle of his features. The way his eyes would track the movement of the market, hawkish, despite the seeming ineffectual haze in them…

A minor deception, you now realize. But for what tactical advantage?

“The chemist from the bazaar,” you reply.

His lips quirk at your realization – the bud of the smirk now unfurling into a full smile. 

“You’re more observant than I gave you credit for, warrior,” he stands before you now, hands still lightly held up in a gesture of peace. “That’s good… A nice surprise ,” his voice taking on an almost-purr of satisfaction.   

You pause, lips parting lightly. What could he mean by that? 

“Qimir,” he gestures to himself by way of introduction.

Qimir. Likely not his real name. Still, you ponder, an interesting choice. Qimir. Like Chimaera, something ancient and unknowable. A monstrous creature signifying the parable of illusion – the promise of something only too impossible to achieve. You wonder if he knew what his “name” sounded like when he’d picked it.

And you hope your face hasn’t betrayed your whirring thoughts as you continue your assessment, hoping to keep a sweep of neutrality across your features as you address him again.

“If you say so. Business must be slow if you’re here to rob me, poisoner. I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed,” your eyes flit around the relatively bare bedroom, gesturing with your chin to the equally Spartan main room of your little ramshackle cabin. “Not much here of value.” 

He crosses one foot over the other as he takes a step to orbit you, almost swordsmanlike. As though he were preparing to duel. You mirror his step, your back to your bed now, facing your doorway. His body between yours and your exit. 

“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he brings a finger to his chin as if in ponderment. “You’re here, after all. And why would I give you my name, show you my face, if I intended to rob you?” 

“Why you do anything means nothing to me,” you bite, “and you’ll have to forgive my manners if I don’t feel like giving you my name. Leave, now , while I let you leave, Qimir.” 

His eyes sweep your form, note your weight on the balls of your feet, bracing for a fight. You probably have weapons other than your laser sword stashed away, if he had to guess . He takes a tentative step toward you, a low chuckle escaping him at the fire in your eyes, trying not to smile any wider than he has already, to give away his pleased impression of your fury. 

“I know who you are,” you blink at his statement, trying not to let the surprise show on your face. “You don't have anything to fear from me, little Jedi.”

“I am no Jedi,” you snipped, rolling your eyes at the insolence of the man before you. If he cared at all about your rude display, Qimir said nothing.

“I am more than aware of that, too,” he murmured, his voice like silk in your ears as he takes yet another small step toward you, invading your space, close enough to breathe your air, a hair’s breadth from touch.  

Too close. You flex your fingers, calling your lightsaber from its hiding place under your loose floorboard into the palm of your hand in a flash, the cool metal meeting your palm like an old friend, a sense of relief. You surge forward into Qimir’s space, pressing the hilt of the saber into his abdomen.

“If you know so much, then you also know you shouldn’t have come,” you snarl. “I don’t know if you didn't take the hint, here at the edge of the world, but I don't take kindly to uninvited guests.”  

“You did invite me, little viper,” he insists, his voice never losing its even, dulcet quality.

At your furrowed brow, he gently brings his fingertips to brush the bare skin of your wrist that’s pressing the hilt of your lightsaber into his stomach. A familiar, prickling ripple bursts across your skin, causing goosebumps to stipple your arms. So familiar. So like the feel of lips from your unseen stranger. So like the Force. 

The dark eyes that met yours in the low light of your room were familiar for more than just an observation in passing at the market. 

“Y-you,” you gasp, the realization causing your chest to seize, to clench your teeth in the wave of seething anger. “You’ve been … in my head … for months …” 

He cocks his head at you, watching the emotions process along your face. He had seen your fears and failures, your heart’s greatest desires. He had seen it all …

“The quickest way to your heart,” he reasons. “Through your head. So you’ll have to forgive my intrusion. I wanted to know you.” Sweet words meant to soothe.  

You aren’t sure if that makes it any better. Perhaps the reasoning makes it worse.

“So like a poisoner,” you level his gaze with a steely one of your own. “To try to slip through the cracks unseen. But I know the quickest way to your heart.”

“You do?” He seems surprised at your rejoinder. As if he hadn’t expected you to play. To be so quick of wit as you were of reflex.

“Between your fourth and fifth rib,” you hum, your voice taking on an almost-seductive tone – a contradiction to the reminder of you pressing the hilt of the saber into him, precisely where you mean to. 

“I appreciate a good threat. Clever,” he smiles, placating. “But there’s no need for that, little warrior. After all… I wouldn't leave you to the dark, not like they did,” he assures, brushing his fingertips against the bare skin of your wrist, so lightly you would’ve thought you’d imagined it. Using the contact to connect to you through the Force once more – your shared memories dancing behind one another’s eyes. Of your fellow Padawans succeeding while your Master only saw failure. Of the dazzlingly white smile of your classmate with the bronze skin and twists in his hair, his yellow lightsaber flashing as you drilled together, his smile fading to frown with the rest of his features as you had used the Force to push him away a bit too hard – rage bubbling to the surface – in direct violation of your training ordinances. Of your departure from Coruscant, no one to bid you goodbye, not even your training partner who had once called himself your friend.

You make to turn your head, to break contact with his dark, glimmering, all-seeing eyes. Like tar pits, drawing you ever deeper. His other hand catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, drawing you back to his gaze, an orbit you cannot escape. Would you even want to?

“And do you believe you would have belonged? The Jedi are deceivers. They deal in abandonment … cloaked in empty platitudes,” he trails his index finger along the curve of your  jawline, an almost illusory brush of his skin against yours – the whisper of a touch, as though to illustrate the point. “The wisp of a  promise, like spun sugar. Sweet, but false, their promises of righteousness. Of importance.”

Your lips part, catching the barest bit of his thumb as it does so, your eyes now searching his, seeking motive.

“And what do you offer instead? That's what this is, right? An offer?”

He smiles wider now, nodding in the barest acknowledgment. As though you’ve finally asked the right question.

“I … make the intangible tangible.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning …” his hand leaves the curve of your jaw to touch his fingertips to your temple, pressing, rendering a vision to your mind. And what Force magic was this? To make you see beyond your own eye’s sight. Foresight? An illusion? A vision? A memory? A promise or a deception?

Whatever it is, you see it so clearly – an uninhabited plant roaring with ocean as far as your eyeline can perceive. Waves lapping gently along grey-stoned shores. Moss-covered alcoves where you sit with him, your stranger, the sunset warming your skin as he caresses your face, your hair, whispering praises just beyond your mind’s own comprehension into your ear – the tone sinful, syrupy. His arms securing you in the night as you rest, no more dreams of abandonment. 

Warmth, endless warmth… as his lips trail the shell of your ear, down your neck, bestowing belief of besotted brushes of lips. Adroit affection aimed right at the heart of you. 

“Hmmm … meaning …. Your feelings, your power, your talent all working, to manifest toward something real. Something you want.” His hand leaves your temple and rests on your shoulder, taking advantage of your state of ponderment to gently guide you, ever mindful of the still-unlit lightsaber pressed to his stomach, leading away from your bed to the wall just next to the adjacent doorframe, the patient waltz of a waiting predator. He brings his hand to rest on the wall, next to your head.

“Something I want,” you reply dreamily, coming back to yourself just enough to realize what he’d said, exhaling through your nose in an indignant little huff. “In exchange for … ?”

“Tell me something,” he replies, lithely lilting around your question with one of his own, flexing his fingers where they rest on the wall. “Why are you no Jedi?” 

“I … abjured,” you admit, a bit too primly, the lightsaber now feeling like an unbearable weight in your palm at your words, the weight of choices – both your own and those of whom purported to teach you. To guide you to something greater. Was it as he said? Were their promises so meaningless? “Broke my oath,” you suck your lower lip between your teeth, pausing before daring to meet his gaze again. “I couldn’t … suppress how they wanted me to. I didn’t want to fail anymore. I was so tired of failing. So, I … abjured. I was weak.” 

Your eyes meet his once more at your admission, yours shining with unshed tears waiting to fall like stars. Shimmering promises to slip down your cheeks, unkept and unchecked. Your fingers fumbled, seemingly of their own accord, unwilling to hold the weight, the threat, of the saber against him any longer. The hilt clattered to the floor, a clanging finality to punctuate your words. And when was the last time you had been so honest, so vulnerable with another?

How … unlike you. 

“Not weak,” he cups your cheeks with both hands, fine-boned thumbs tracing the peaks of your cheeks, as though to wipe away your unshed tears. “The same as me. Power searching for its other half. An unwaning, unflickering flame.” 

Your unseen stranger, now seen, takes your hands in his, the buzz of the Force still tingling across your skin at his words, at the recognition of his power.

“You asked what I want. You want the same as me, and I the same as you. A companion . A partner. Unlike them, I won't judge you for your feelings. Won’t judge you for your power …  You want – I can feel it rippling across your skin,” he closes his eyes, cocking his head, shivering as though to illustrate the point. “... Mmm, and I want,  too. We can want together. If you'd let us.”

The flickering light of your room seemed to dim in tandem with his syrupy words, cloying and dripping like honey into golden nettle tea. The swirling honeytar of his eyes appraising you as the Force connection prickled with hazy heat between your bodies and the damnable musk of the jungle air.

You press yourself further into the wall he’d leaned you against, tilting your chin to appraise him in kind, searching for veracity in his words. Something more substantial than the “spun sugar” he’d accused the Jedi of weaving. 

As though he could sense your trepidation before it could cross your face, he placed a hand on your hip, the contact searing you through the thin fabric of your tank top.  

“They kicked you out because you feel. I'd never do that. I want you to feel … to feel power. To feel what you’re capable of. Of what it can become. Rage. Fear. Loss. Desire. Train with me, you’ll feel it all. I want you to feel it all … to feel me.”

Desire, he had spoken of. The gentle roll of his low voice over the syllables echoing perfectly in your ears. Desire, desire, desire. That desire, so  like venom snaking its way through your blood, hot and purposeful. An all-consuming burn through your blood, befitting of a poisoner as he. 

“You felt it, didn’t you? When I came in,” he iterates, somewhere south of a plea. “All. That. Power.” The hand not resting on your hip comes to cup your face once more. “I can teach you.” 

You had read somewhere once, in the Archives, about creatures on long-abandoned planets with the ability to draw their prey in through vanity. The flash of feathers. Or shiny scales. Big, baleful eyes, perhaps. Only to sink their teeth in once their intended had come too close. 

You draw in a breath, searching his pleasing face for any sign of a tell. Of the flicker of eyes that would signify deception. Of hidden fangs beneath his beautiful, full lips. Of anything that would bely his true intentions behind your Force connection. You swept your eyes across broad, defined shoulders, down toned, muscled arms exposed through his sleeveless shift. A warriors’ weapon wrapped in a pleasing package, to be sure. But … with no discernable hint of false suggestion. 

You shift your weight once more onto the balls of your feet, away from the wall and into him . Continuing your appraisal as you tilt your head, allowing the scent of his skin – the tang of sweat from the humid jungle air commingling with something sharp and clean – to wash over you. 

You invade his space now, leaning into the hand that grips your hip and the other that cradles your head, boldly brushing your lips along his with the barest hint of touch, feeling his lips smile against yours.

You whisper, your lips silken against his, “Tell me, poisoner … You seduce me with lies, is that it? You wish for me to call you Master? Forsake all else to worship at your altar?” 

You catch the flash in his eyes as the word “seduce” leaves your lips.

“I haven't lied to you,” his voice is a hum. An attempt to provide reassurance as he couples them with what he hopes is a comforting gesture. His fingers travel from your hip to trail your ribs, a partial embrace.

“Do you consider not telling the entire truth to be a lie?” 

“Have I shown you any lies? No. Just dreams. The promise of what could be. What I –,” he pauses, “– we could be. I cannot fabricate the Force, little warrior. Everything you feel tonight is you . It’s me. What more could you want? ” 

Your once-steely resolve is crumbling under the weight of his insinuation … "everything you feel tonight” –  the honey in his words sweet to your ears, you wonder fleetingly if he'd be even sweeter on your tongue. 

And he knew you, didn’t he? By his own admission, he’d seen your faults and flaws for months … your desires. And he had shown you promises, premonitions, predilections… a future of power. And if there is power in two hemispheres – one of sweltering heat, one of blistering ice. Which were you? And which was he? 

Together you would surely melt…

“No more rules, little warrior,” he sighs, “just the power of two.” He slides his lips across yours, purposeful, before capturing your lower lip between his teeth, nipping once before releasing, admiring the way your expression flickered from defiance to desire before surging forward, pressing you back into the wall as his lips capture yours.

He swallows your gasp, bringing his fingers to wrap loosely around your neck while his other hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt. 

You break from his kiss with a gasp between swollen, bitten lips. But he gives you no reprieve, his lips trailing to your neck, where he sets about pressing hot-mouthed kisses. Molten lava flooding the column of your throat, chased with the scrape of nipping teeth. Soothe and scrape. Push and pull. Give, give, give, take.  

You thread your fingers through the silken hair tucked behind his ears, tugging him from his ministrations on your neck and forcing him to meet your eyes – to see if the blaze of want you felt scorching your skin was reflected in the liquid coal, ready to ignite. 

His lips twist into a smirk at your insistent tugging; if he was at all surprised, he didn’t show it. His face the perfect picture of pleasure. 

“What would we do with it?” You inquire, “This power?” 

“Hmmm,” he pretended to ponder, suddenly scooping you, a brief lift as he crossed the short distance to your bed, seating himself with you on his lap. No concession of dominance; merely placing you precisely where he means to. To allow you to feel him beneath you. 

“What would you like to do, little warrior, hm?” His fingers flicked the thin straps of your flimsy sleep shirt, exposing your shoulders, leaning forward to trail his lips along the now-bared expanse of your shoulder, your collar bones, your neck, his eyes glancing up to watch your face as he went. “Make them pay? Take what’s yours?” 

His hands feel their way down your form, down your sides, along your hips, the skin of his palms rasping against the smooth expanse of your thighs has his fine-boned fingers make their way beneath the loose fabric of the cropped pants you sleep in, dangerously close to the precipice of your desire , urging you to move. Guiding your hips in a rhythmic glide in his lap. 

You gasp at his attentions, at the combination of his promises and the heady feel of his skin along yours, bringing your hands to grip his biceps – desperately seeking a way to anchor yourself. 

And if it’s his poison that will bring you to the edge, would you regret it? You were starting to believe you could never regret him , not at the feel of his chest pressed against yours, the toned muscle beneath your fingers. His sharp angles caressing your soft curves, replacing the lonely ache in your bones with the lovely heat of him, both his promises and his attentions.

His mouth was keyed and intentional in its work of you, with pressed kisses like flower petals blooming along the skin of your neck, followed by the scraping thorns of his teeth. Brutish and beautiful, as his fine-boned fingers crept to the inside of your thighs, rubbing along your clothed center, intensifying the ache you felt. He shifts your weight in his lap, causing your legs to spread wider, straddling him lowly as he tugs the offending fabric aside, guiding your hips into a roll over his clothed lap and his growing hardness. Manifesting his delight at the choked gasp you emitted in the form of a teasing little buck of his hips, guiding you down as he guided himself up, delighting in the sharp gasps that met his ears as he continues to sway you to his rhythm. 

“Desire isn't a sin, little warrior,” he breathes the words into your mouth, lips a hairs’ breadth apart, the better to swallow your moans. “What we feel feeds our connection to the Force, gives you strength ... If you know how. Let me show you. Touch me.” 

It was as though electricity was crackling, popping beneath your fingertips as you took his instruction and began to explore the expanse of his body, slipping your hands beneath his tunic to feel the silken heat of his firm torso, the ache within you mounting at the heady combination of the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips – so long since you’d touched another, been touched – and his hardness between the cleft of your thighs. Smoldering, low-heat burned along your skin and beneath your fingertips. Or was it his fingers that were doing the burning? It was hard to tell where he ended and you began, one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you bodily into him, an infinite loop of power and pleasure.

As you continue to touch him, you could feel it – his connection to the force, strong, volatile, like lightning striking the ocean – crackling and formidable like the man who contained it.

And Qimir – you had long since given up trying to determine if it was, in fact, his real name – rewards you with a gift of his own, the velvet rumble of a groan of pleasure emanating from his throat at your touch. A sound of syrup and satisfaction. 

Pleased that you could garner such a reaction from a being as powerful as he, you smile, boldly meeting his lips with a kiss, opening your mouth with a gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, to taste the zip of power that he had determined in his moths of observation was just you, a torrent of citrus drizzle, bold and sweet. 

Reluctantly, he parts his lips from yours, ducking his head to tug the straps of your top down with his teeth, exposing your breasts to the heated air of the room. And if your desire at the repeated rolling of his hips beneath yours wasn’t enough to do you in, you figured this might. Bathing in the celestial feel the press his lips to your nipple, tongue swirling over the peaking flesh. Pleased at the goosebumps that erupt now in the wake of his attention. 

While he continues to tease your breasts with tongue and teeth, Qimir guides his other hand along your thighs, slipping his practiced fingers beneath your shorts, delighting in the wetness he was met with, basking  in the jolting shiver the motion elicited from you, at the friction of his fingers rubbing along the seam of you – causing you to wiggle, to roll your hips into his touch. 

And oh, as he slips his fingers inside of you, your eyes roll back, tilting your head to allow Qimir to admire the curving, elegant slope of exposed throat – prey before a predator, gasping at the pleasure he wrought. Breathless. If you thought he was teasing you before, his fingers inside of you were their own type of mocking punishment, well aware of his effect on you and the way your cunt throbs as he strokes inside of you. You could do nothing but wriggle your hips, whimpering piteously and attempting to roll your hips to follow his fingers as they work you, as this crescendo builds.

“Say you’ll be mine, warrior, and you can have it.” he promises. A new oath. One you’d never forsake. For him, you’d never turn, never abjure. Not so long as his touch made stars erupt behind your eyes, not so long as his lips dripped syrup promises down your throat.  

Kissing you once more, golden and slow, molten and revelatory as he works his fingers inside of you, your thighs parting to accommodate him. His thumb rolls repeated brushes over your clit, delighting in the starshine burst as you reached your peak, a broken little moan that sounded suspiciously like the word “master,” passing your lips in a keening sigh. 

You regard him through bleary, closing eyes and the warm, citrus haze of your orgasm as he slips his fingers from you, guiding you down to recline in your bed, stroking your hair as he does so, lulling you as a lover would. 

“Sleep, warrior,” his velvet voice meets your ears, lyrical and lilting. “I’ll be back for you.” 

And like each night before that one, his figure slips from you… as though he was never there. It wasn’t a dream, was it? It was hard to tell after months of this teasing game. After his promises built so much only to guide you to this release. 

And in the silvery light of the jungle’s dawn, you awoke with that very question on your lips, met with the sight of your saber placed gently on your little bedside table as opposed to its usual hiding spot. You wake to the sweet afterache of something between your thighs, to the scraped marks of teeth along the expanse of your neck. 

And to the promise of something – of a future of power and partnership. If only you’d be so bold as to accept it. As you eyed the saber, you recalled the prickle of his Force power along your skin, increasing with his proximity. And by the time he arrived to meet you again, you knew what your answer would be … 

--

tagging:

@phoenixhalliwell @withahappyrefrain @inklore @spiderispunk @flightlessangelwings @joannasteez @gretagerwigsmuse @kalliravenne @mxgyver @princessphilly @s-u-t @ohmagawd-life @maryannsstrawberry @themultifandompictureshow @kallista-diune @crypt-keeper-soul @monlight-prose @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @themarvelousbee @soulores @moonyslove78 @sio-ina-bottle @theradioactivespidergwen @drew-garfi @thegirlwhowritesfics @lady-morrigen @flordeamatista @forever-rogue @aphrogeneias @withmyteeth @superhoeva @pettyprocrastination @mortwig @petcr3

[collophora]

"Let's fix this drawing" *redraw the whole thing*

[legobenkenobi]

the fact that Jedi Researchers are canon but like never touched on ever is a crime actually. please give me more Jedi OCs who use their force connection for fighting and being badasses and stuff but also to be a super ultra mega nerd.

[izzystizzys]

i think if i was commander fox of the coruscant guard and some wrinkled raisin of a man who i was bound under pain of death or torture to protect along with a planet’s worth of ungrateful, uppity rich fucks who couldn’t be bothered to consider me sentient much less deserving of a smidgen of civil rights, looked me in the eye and went i’m going to catch and store a massive, eldritch space monster right smack dab in the middle of all the Most Important And Very Breakable people and places on this planet under the most flimsy, whack-ass excuse you’ve ever heard and also it’s your circus and your monkeys-

well i think i would simply have punted him out the window

[rexscanonwife]

Hell yes it is oc time babey!!! This is my togruta oc, Yora Tos, who was Brea's master when she was but a young padawan learner! 💖🫶💖

She was never offered a spot on the jedi council due to her being a little too new-age but she loved younglings and was perfectly happy teaching the next generation! Her personality was incredibly laid-back, and when little firecracker Brea was assigned to her, the council was hoping she might be able to calm the young one a little. Unfortunately for them, Yora had a very hands-off 'children will be children' attitude that gave Brea a LOT of freedom instead 😂 she wasn't UNWILLING to discipline her, but she did think Brea would benefit more from learning the consequences of her actions firsthand rather than reprimanding her too often, which eventually she did learn! The two remained very close even after Brea's knightship and I think Yora would have loved to take on other padawan after that, but the war sort of got in the way.

Her features are very soft, her gentle nature is reflected in her rounded patterns as opposed to the usually sharp-edged togruta patterns. Her colors are mainly cool, including her kyber crystal, as I think of her personality being much like flowing water and I wanted that to show it in her design. Her lightsaber also has a tulip-bud tip that I saw in the cartoon saloon star wars short 'Screechers Reach' and thought would be very fitting for her! Her first outfit design was kimono inspired but I decided to go the saree route instead in the second pic!

Taglist♡: @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @changeling-selfship @crushes-georg @miutonium @cherry-bomb-ships @rosieaurora @rejaytionships @sunflawyer @in-true-blue-love @tropicalgothships @little-miss-selfships @hotrodharts @cupiidzbow @frozenhi-chews @limey-self-inserts @star-whores69

[beedeewun]

*launches a care package into space for cal kestis specifically*

[eternalimperius]

in this au Luke got adopted by Cal after an Inquisitor took him during the plot of the Kenobi show, then basically saved everyone in Jedi Survivor with his protagonist powers

meanwhile Leia gets trained by a depressed Obi-Wan

[bunny7567]

I got you - chapter 1

So this is the first fanfic I've ever written. I've been obsessed with star wars for years and with clone wars for months now, especially with Rex and I've had this story in my head constantly for almost a year. I have never written so many words so fast in my life. Made a tumblr account just to read Rex fanfics lol, so hope I get everything right when posting. I already have a couple more chapters written and many other ideas so this will be a long story. I try to follow canon but it does deviate from it a bit, and I'm also mixing some legends and a lot of headcanons in too. The story will deal with mature themes, I'm not yet sure how sexually explicit it'll get, again, never written fanfic before so not sure if I'm capable of writing smut lol but there's a big possibility. Also not gonna be very action-heavy, I'm more focused on relationships with other characters. Echo and Fives will appear a lot too cause I love them.

A/n: adding an edit to mention that I have in fact managed to write some smut in later chapters, so I guess that makes this story 18+. The chapters that have smut will be properly marked as such.

Pairing: Rex x Jedi!ofc

Word count: 3.8k Warnings: heavy drinking; talk of injury; implied ptsd; implied emotional abuse

Next chapter

mesh'la - beautiful di'kut - idiot

~~~

Lexie looked at her face in the mirror, pleading with her mind to allow her to remember what happened, but she’s met with the same confusing, unclear images she’s been trying to piece together for the past few weeks, images of barren landscapes, white armour, red eyes and the look of disgust in them, and was she in someone’s arms?

She read the report, she knows the facts what happened on Geonosis, but for the life of her, she cannot remember herself being there. She cannot remember her master abandoning her, why would he just leave? She cannot remember how she supposedly took charge of the squad of clone troopers that Master al’Prani was supposed to lead, tearing through battled droids trying to reach Anakin and Obi-Wan. And she cannot remember how she got injured. Her hand reaches to the back of her skull, fingers tracing the long scar that still feels tender. It shouldn’t do, not anymore, not after the months she spent in a coma, but she could swear it still hurt.

It didn’t feel real at first, waking up in a medical facility on Coruscant with only med droids around her to relay the news of her injury and the coma she had been in since. She had woken in such a panic that she didn’t even realise how she used the Force to throw one of said droids against a wall, shattering it to pieces. It didn’t get any better when Mace Windu and Obi-Wan finally came to talk to her, telling her about the war that the Separatists had started and the clone army that the Jedi were now leading. It didn’t feel right at all, Jedi as generals, how is that being keepers of the peace? But the most horrible blow came when Obi-Wan slowly sat down on the chair next to her bed and took her hand in his, a sombre expression on his face.

“Alexis, there is something else you should know”, she could feel that the news he was about to relay had something to do with her master, however Lexie could not believe the words that followed. “Master Safir’al’Prani has left the Jedi Order during the battle of Geonosis.”

“No that’s… that’s not possible” she said, voice coarse after months of not being used. “He was just with me, we were on a ship heading to Geonosis… t-to aid you and Anakin, and… did you say during?”

“Yes. Once the two of you got to Geonosis,” master Windu interjected, “he refused to fight alongside the clone troopers. He considered them…” he paused, carefully choosing the words to use, “beneath him. You can read the report yourself, one of the clones in your squad provided a detailed account of the situation”. My squad? blurry images of white armour flashed in her mind but Lexie forced her attention to master Windu’s words. His voice was steady, no hint of emotion as he nonchalantly delivered the most devastating news for Lexie to hear and then handing a datapad towards the injured Padawan.

Lexie took the datapad master Windu offered her, but could not bring herself to look at the report just yet, feeling the anger and pain bubbling up inside of her and worried about keeping her composure in front of the two Jedi. “Thank you masters, I will look through it later, I… I’m a bit lightheaded at the moment.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from the chair. “We’ll let you rest now, gather your strength, we can discuss your situation at a later time”.

Your situation, the words ring in her head as she braided her bright red hair. She has a meeting with the Council that afternoon, after three weeks of physical therapy and psych evals she has no idea how she passed. Frustration increased as she once again could not hold onto the images that passed through her mind. What’s worse, she’s been feeling so disconnected from the Force, struggling to meditate, not that it ever came easy to her, and also use her abilities. Struggles she has kept from Obi-Wan, who has been checking in on her during her recovery. But now she had to face the Council, had to hide her struggles and insecurities from them, fearing disappointing them.

At least with Obi-Wan there, she hadn’t felt completely abandoned. Considering the amount of times Master al’Prani had dropped her on his head in the past few years, Obi-Wan was becoming more of a master to her than al’Prani ever was. Guess I shouldn’t be that surprised he just up and left me on a battlefield, she thought to herself, anger bubbling inside of her again. But she still was surprised, and angry, and confused, she tried to not blame herself but she couldn’t help feeling like it was somehow her fault, like if she hadn’t been such a disappointment to him, he would not have left. She shook her head trying to get the thoughts out then looked at the time. Shit! She was late.

Reaching the door to the Council room, Lexie stopped to catch her breath and to adjust her black robes. She didn’t wear this colour before but considered it appropriate these past couple of weeks, feeling as if she was almost in mourning. Taking three long breaths, she tried to clear her mind before entering the room.

“Waiting we have been, come, come”. All eyes followed her as she approached the centre. She looked around quickly, taking in the forms present in person or via hologram, then lowered her head and spoke as clear as she could, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice, “My apologies Master Yoda, I seem to have lost track of time.”

“How are you feeling, Alexis?”  Obi-Wan asked.

“Better, Master. I have been cleared by the medics, I am ready to return to my duties.” She replied, trying to sound confident. This is what I need right now, she thought, craving something to occupy her mind, some action so she could feel like herself again.

“Good to hear that is. A decision about your future this Council has made” Yoda continued. Lexie looked at him, waiting for her verdict. Her heart was pounding in her chest as all her concentration was focused on her mental walls, trying as hard as she could not to let the council members feels the anxiety within her.

“As you know,” Mace Windu begun talking, “former master al’Prani was reaching the end of your training. He believed there wasn’t much left for him to teach you”.

She tried to stop her face from grimacing at the words, remembering a similar sentence al’Prani had spoken to her months before Geonosis: “You seem intent on not learning any lesson I am trying to teach you”. Her mind got lost in the memory, anxiety slowly enveloping all her senses.

“…to consider what you have been through on Geonosis as your Trials and grant you the rank of Jedi Knight”. Those words snapped Lexie back to the present, did she hear him right? Did they really believe she was ready to be a Knight?  She opened her mouth to voice her concerns but immediately closed it. What was she going to do, argue with the Council’s decision? But how can they say I passed Trials that I don’t even remember? she thought, but then recalled how she kept that piece of information from them, not even confiding in Obi-Wan about her memory problems.

“We thought you would be more excited about this”, Obi-Wan’s voice stopped her rambling thoughts.

 “I-I am, of course. It’s just a lot to take in, and, if I am honest, I cannot stop feeling a little disappointed my master is not here to give me the… the happy news himself”, Lexie answered, cringing internally at how fast she spoke and how forced the words had sounded. “What happens now? Do I get assigned a battalion?” she asked after a short pause, hoping to move the subject along.

“At this time we cannot assign you your own battalion”, Master Windu spoke again, either not noticing or not wanting to deal with her conflicting emotions. “However, we believe the best course of action would be for you to join Anakin Skywalker as second commanding officer of the 501st. This arrangement could prove… mutually beneficial”.

“Mutually beneficial?”, she repeated, a slight frown showing on her face.

“Yes. You see, Anakin has been in command of this battalion for a few months now, so there’s a lot you could learn from him”, Obi-Wan interjected; she swore she could hear Master Windu scoff at that statement. “And in turn you could help… curve his impulsiveness, be a good influence on him. The battalion is due to return on world later today and Anakin is expecting you at the barracks first thing tomorrow”, Obi-Wan concluded, giving her a reassuring smile.

Lexie almost laughed at this. If they think I could be a good influence on anybody they don’t know me that well. She kept that thought to herself however, and instead bowed her head. “I understand. Thank you masters, I will do as instructed”.

On her way back to her room Lexie felt the anxiety creeping back in, filling every space of her mind. She was not ready for this, how could they think she was ready for this? Upon reaching her room she quickly peeled off her robes, the layers suddenly suffocating her. She sat down on the floor, trying to meditate, to ground herself in the moment, feeling the beginning of a panic attack. She didn’t think she had panic attacks before. But ever since waking up from her coma, they had been a common occurrence.

Meditating proved more effective this time, Lexie’s heartrate coming back to a more normal pace after a few minutes. Maker, I need a drink, she thought. She dug through her closet, looking for a more inconspicuous outfit, not wishing to attract much attention to herself when out. As a Jedi, she didn’t own many clothing items, however she did have a couple dresses and blouses that she would use on nights out, nights when she pretended to be a regular woman enjoying herself in a club or bar. For this occasion, though, she found a plain, dark-grey hooded jacket that she threw over the black tank top she was already wearing. She kept it unbuttoned, a moderate amount of cleavage still visible. She wasn’t going to specifically look for a hook-up tonight, but wasn’t necessarily opposed to anyone coming up to hit on her.

She went to her usual club, planning on only having one, maybe two drinks. However, the need to drown her insecurities got the better of her and five drinks later she was still at the bar, flirting with a Pantoran man who had just offered to buy her another drink.

She liked the confidence that being drunk would give her, she felt like a different person altogether, like a normal person who could comfortably flirt with other people. She wondered for a second if it was problematic that pretty much all of her hook-ups happened whilst she was drunk, or at least tipsy, but she tried to assure herself that she had always been in control, knowing her limit; hell, she had never gotten blackout drunk, never once vomited from alcohol, she just liked to have fun occasionally, to blow off steam.

Lexie was about to accept the man’s offer when she spotted a familiar Tholothian woman walking in the club. Shit, Gemma. The next second Lexie had pulled the hood over her head and was almost running to the exit, keeping her head down as the Tholothian made her way to a booth where she was greeted by loud, already drunk friends. Lexie exhaled a sigh of relief as she stepped in the chilly night air of Coruscant.

She could not deal with seeing Gemma right now, or with the apologies she would have to make. Guilt crept inside of her as she thought of how she basically ghosted the poor woman. I did say from the beginning that I cannot do more than casual, she tried pleading with her guilty conscience, but she knew she had not treated Gemma right.

Lexie realised she had been walking aimlessly for quite some time now, lost in her guilt, and stopped to look around confused as to where she was. The alcohol in her system was also not helping her in recognising her surroundings. She heard loud chatter ahead and followed it, coming face to face with what was, for her, an unusual sight.

She wasn’t used to the clones yet, she had seen a few troopers around, mainly the Coruscant guard or Commander Cody when he would come to retrieve Obi-Wan, but she hadn’t interacted with them at all during her recovery. But now, in front of a cantina she could see was named 79s, Lexie saw a bunch of them, in either officer uniform or in armor with various markings on it. She observed them for a little while, drunk, rowdy, joking around amongst themselves, they didn’t seem to act any different than other drunk men she had encountered in clubs before.

Alcohol-induced curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go inside the bar. I might as well get used to being among these men, she justified in her head. As she made her way to the entrance she pulled her hood down, gaining a low wolf-whistle that she ignored from one of the clones stood by the entrance.

The club was dimly lit and crowded, mainly with clones, but other sentients, mostly women as far as she could see, were mingling with the troopers. Lexie made her way to the bar, sitting down on a barstool as she ordered a cocktail. She looked around the space, taking in the different hairstyles or tattoos that the clones had, fascinated by their need for individuality. But they really were all individuals, she could feel them each through the Force, all their life signatures unique, something that really surprised her.

Lexie hadn’t thought about them much these past few weeks, being solely focused on her recovery. But being inside the bar right now, she was suddenly struck by how human they all were and, just as suddenly, the knowledge that the Republic had bred these sentient, living beings just to throw them into a war made her feel a pit inside her stomach.

Lexie was brought back from her unnerving thoughts by the realisation that she was being watched and turned her head slightly, just in time to notice two clones basically pushing a third clone towards herself. The clone stumbled and briefly met her eyes, before quickly averting them, embarrassment and nervousness seeping from his Force signature, followed by annoyance as he turned his head to look back at the men that threw him into this situation.

“H-Hi…”, he managed to say, looking back at her.

“Hello there”, Lexie replied, voice full of amusement. This should be fun, she thought to herself, studying the trooper in front of her. There wasn’t anything particular about his appearance, he had a standard haircut and no visible tattoos. The most striking aspect of his look was the handprint located on his chestplate, similar but not identical in colour to the other blue markings on his armor; blue, is that the 501st colour?

“I uhh… I’m Echo”, he said hesitantly.

“That’s an… interesting name. Is that short for echolocation, do you have really good hearing or something?”, Lexie replied teasingly.

“Umm, no, I wish”, he said with an embarrassed chuckle, “I-I used to have this tendency to repeat the orders we were given during training. My umm… my brothers used it to tease me and I guess it just stuck”.

“Well, it’s a pretty cool name regardless”, Lexie said, earning a shy smile from the trooper that was still stood stiffly next to her. “So what brings you over here, Echo?”, she gestured to the space between the two of them.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t really my idea, umm… my brothers keep insisting I need to… umm… talk to a woman. I’m sorry for disturbing you”, he said apologetically. Lexie looked over his shoulder to where the two clones were now leaning on the end of the bar, far enough that she didn’t think they could hear their conversation, but clearly still keeping an eye on their brother’s attempt at flirting.

One of the clones had a more striking appearance, his hair shaved, a big tattoo of the Republic crest adorned half his face and a big part of his skull. The other clone also had a facial tattoo, however smaller and on his right temple, showing the number five in Aurebesh; his appearance was otherwise that of a standard clone, minus a hint of a goatee on his chin.

“No worries, I was starting to get bored actually. And I assume that if I turn you away they’ll just find another woman to throw you at?” she asked half laughing.

“Most likely”, Echo answered with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Then you’d better join me”, Lexie said motioning to the empty barstool next to her. “I expect they’ll leave you alone if they believe you’re getting somewhere”.

Echo reluctantly took the seat next to Lexie, even more nervousness enveloping his Force signature. They sat in silence for a moment as Lexie took a few sips of her drink. Finally, Echo seemed to have gathered enough courage to continue their conversation.

  “I-I don’t want to give you the wrong idea if… umm… if you were looking for…”, he paused, having trouble choosing his words, “for something specific tonight”. His eyes could not meet hers, instead focusing on the drink that she was holding.

 Lexie let out a small laugh. “Don’t worry, honey, I was not going to sleep with you even if you had wanted it.”

 “That’s good”, Echo said with a small sight of relief. “I mean I-I don’t want to offend you, I’m just not…”, he paused, unsure if he should be admitting this out loud. “I’m just not really interested in this.”

 “This being women?”, she asked tentatively.

 “Women, men, anyone for that matter. I just don’t think I’m… attracted to anyone”, Echo replied, eyes turned back to her face, awaiting to see her reaction.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, you know that right? And your brothers shouldn’t force you to be someone you’re not just because they refuse to understand”, Lexie replied with a little indignation in her voice.

“No, I know, I’m not ashamed or anything”, he continued. “And they’re not… well I never actually tried to explain it to them. When Fives and I were at the outpost there was no need to talk about it and I managed to avoid it the last time we were on Coruscant. Fives was too busy finding someone for himself and didn’t pay much attention to me all four days of our leave. This is only the second time we’ve been here actually, Fives and I that is. Jesse has been with the 501st longer than we have.”

So they are with the 501st. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume Fives is the one with the tattoo of the number five”, Lexie remarked with mock deliberation, looking over Echo’s shoulder at the clone in question.

 “Yeah that is a good assumption”, he said with a small laugh. Lexie could feel he was more relaxed now and was surprised to discover she was actually enjoying his company. She’s never really had friendly conversations in bars before, usually only approaching people when she was interested in a possible hook-up, or on the occasions she was looking for information during a mission.

Echo talked a little about the shenanigans he and Fives used to get into back as cadets on Kamino, making Lexie genuinely laugh a couple of time. She could tell that the bond between the two men was special and couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Her thoughts briefly wondered towards her own family, Myria’s face appearing into her mind. No, stop that. She had to change the subject.

 “So, the famous 501st. What is that like?”, she asked after taking a sip of her drink.

“I don’t know if we’re that famous, but they’re good men, all of them. And our general is one of the best”, he answered proudly. “It’s weird though, the reason we’re back on Coruscant is so we can pick up a new general, which seems unnecessary. Fives said they’re probably sending some boring, stuck-up Jedi to babysit General Skywalker, the other Jedi must believe he’s too impulsive”.

  “Anakin impulsive? No way”, Lexie replied with sarcastic shock and a laugh. A sly smile crept on her face as she watched the confused expression Echo made. She stood and downed the last of her drink. “And I wouldn’t worry about the new general, she’s not that bad I think. But then again, I am biased”.

 Echo opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out Fives was at Lexie’s side, his hand sliding on her lower back.

“You’re not leaving, are you mesh’la?” he asked in a sweet voice.

 “Oh you’re a bold one”, she replied glancing at his arm and then back at his face, matching the tone of his voice. She was intrigued by the word he used to address her. Was that in Mando’a?

“What can I say, it breaks my heart to see a beautiful woman leave this place disappointed. Unlike this di’kut over here I could make it worth your while if you stayed a little longer”, he said as his head jerked towards Echo then lowered a little towards her.

 “Fives!”, Echo said in an urgent tone, “she’s a Jedi. I think.” His eyes met Lexie’s looking for confirmation, embarrassment once again engulfing him.

“Ten points for Echo”, she replied with a laugh. Fives’ hand immediately withdrew from her body, landing on the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously.

  “S-Sorry, Sir, I didn’t realise”, he said, concern easy to distinguish in his voice as he stepped away from her. Sir? Is that what everyone is gonna call me?

“No need to worry, honey”, she said, amused by the clone’s reaction. “And to answer your question, I am unfortunately leaving, have to be up early.” She noticed the other clone – Jesse, Echo said, right? – had approached them and she gave him a smile. She patted Echo twice on the shoulder and started making her way towards the exit, turning her head to loudly say “see you tomorrow, boys!”.

She laughed to herself as she heard Echo tell the others “I think that was our new general” before the distance snuffed out their voices and she went out the door into the cold night air.

[vodika-vibes]

Here Comes The General

Summary: Scorch is not having a good time. Sev is missing and presumed dead. Boss is on Coruscant. Fixer is on Naboo. And he’s here, playing flying monkey for a man he’s been planning on killing since the day they met. Unfortunately for Scorch, Hemlock has well and truly bound his hands.

Pairing: Clone Commando Scorch x General Rynn (OFC), mentions of Delta Squad x OFC

Word Count: 1218

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: I have Rynn on the mind, so you get a Rynn and Scorch story. Wherein I fix what happened to Scorch at the end of TBB. Yes, I have requests, but I need a break from requests for a little bit. Sorry.

Scorch slams his fist against the panel next to the stark metal door separating him from Rynn. He only gets an hour each week to spend time with her, and he knows he should be grateful, but he’s not.

Every time he comes to see his Rynn, he leaves angrier.

The door slides open, and she looks up, a small smile crossing her pretty face, though it does little to draw his attention away from the stark bruises marring her face and arms.

“Scorch,” She still smiles when she sees him, and his heart swoops affectionately. 

“Rynn,” He steps into the room, and the door slams shut behind him, not that he minds in the slightest. Scorch tugs off his gloves and tosses them to the side, along with his helmet, as Rynn stands and steps towards him.

His hands immediately move to cup her face, gently tilting her head so that he’s able to examine the dark brown bruises better, “I’m okay,” She reassures.

“They hit you.”

“Hemlock hit me,” She corrects, her own hands coming up to press against his cheeks, “You’ve lost weight.”

“Yeah, well—” Scorch scoffs, “It’s not like anyone here cares about the health of a clone.”

“Oh, Scorch,” She sounds so heartbroken that Scorch wants to cry.

He smiles at her, and leans in to press his forehead against hers, “There’s no need to say my name like that.”

“You deserve better,”

“We both deserve better,” He corrects quietly. Scorch moves his hand so that it’s brushing through her short hair, “I tried to talk Emerie into letting you have a headscarf, cyare. But they won’t allow it.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He brushes his lips against a bruise, gently enough that she doesn’t even flinch, “Your religion is a huge part of who you are.”

“My religion is more than a headscarf, Scorch.” Her voice is soft, “My religion is just as strong here in prison as it was on the Nightwing. Stronger, even.”

He sighs softly, “I know that. I do. It just feels wrong.”

“Well, they don’t exactly have the moral high ground here, no.” She replies with a small smile.

Scorch’s fingers move to the collar around her neck, thick and clunky, with a flashing red light on the front, indicating that the bomb is active. “I wish…”

“I know, Scorch. It’s going to be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” She stands on her toes and glides her lips against his, “I have faith. Faith enough for the both of us.”

“But…Sev—”

“Is alive. I know. And Boss and Fixer are just playing by the rules until we can be together again. This bomb,” She taps the collar with a short fingernail, “ensures the cooperation not only of you, my love.”

Scorch makes a face, “When we reunite, I’m not going to be allowed to touch you for days.” He bitches quietly, “I can already hear Fixer saying ‘Well, you had her all to yourself for months, so deal with it’.”

She laughs softly and presses her forehead against his chest.

Slowly, he smoothes his hand down her back, but before he can say anything, the cell door slams open, and he sighs quietly, “Times up.”

“Just for now, Scorch.” She lightly pulls herself from his embrace, and she walks over to pick up his gloves and helmet, “Back to work.”

“Back to slavery, you mean.” Still, Scorch slowly pulls his gear back on, until he’s fully kitted out again. 

Rynn smiles at him. Soft, warm, and loving, and he rolls his shoulders. It’s all for her. He will do anything to keep her safe and alive, even if it means working with the enemy. 

“Love you, Rynn.”

“Love you too, Scorch. I’ll see you in a week.”

He turns on his heel and heads out the open cell door. “Yeah.” It’s not enough. It will never be enough. But he’ll make do. He has to.

Scorch watches, amused, as his younger brothers from Clone Force 99 raid Mount Taniss. He watches as Hemlock confronts them, and he watches the oldest of them…Hunter, he believes his name is, punches Hemlock.

And then something interesting happens.

A small device, roughly the size of his palm, falls out of Hemlock’s pocket and slides across the floor.

Hemlock scrambles for the device, but Scorch gets there first. He picks up the device and examines it, uncaring of the blasters aimed at him from his younger brothers.

“Scorch!” Hemlock shouts, “Return that at once!”

He knows what this device is. This is the device that controls the bomb around Rynn’s neck. He’s seen it enough times to recognize it on sight.

Scorch meets Hemlock’s gaze, and quickly destroys the device before dropping the pieces on the floor.

“You—”

Scorch doesn’t allow him to finish as he curls his hand into a fist and slams all of his weight into the punch. Hemlock staggers back, his hand flying to his face. Scorch doesn’t think twice before shooting Hemlock twice in the head.

Execution style, Rynn used to call it.

His younger brothers hesitate and lower their weapons, “I thought you were working with him,” One of them, the one with goggles, says accusingly.

“Believe it or not, vod’ika, there are many ways to force someone to do something,” Scorch absently examines his blaster, “ways that have nothing to do with the damn chip they put in our heads.”

“So nothing has forced you to work for him?” The biggest member of the squad demands.

“Did I say that?” Scorch turns his head when there’s a rumble and the ground splits open on the other side of the room. He straightens and pulls his helmet off, hooking it to his belt, as Rynn lifts herself out of the hole she made.

She lowers herself to the ground and looks around for a moment, a bright smile crossing her face as she sees Scorch, “Have you seen my lightsaber?”

“Fraid they destroyed it, cyare.”

“Well, that’s rude of them. I guess I’ll have to make do with my spare.” She steps around some broken pieces of metal and allows Scorch to swing her into his arms, and press a light kiss against her lips.

“The Empire and rudeness go hand in hand, cyare. You should do something about that.”

Her smile is vibrant, “Oh, I intend to. As soon as I have all of my boys back. I assume the Nightwing is here somewhere?”

“Hidden. Safe and sound. Just like you ordered.”

She beams at him and presses her hands against his cheeks, “You follow my orders so well!”

“When I want to.”

“Of course.” Her smile softens, “Let’s get out of here, hm? We need to get to Sev.”

“Yes ma’am,” Scorch sets her down and motions towards the exit, allowing Rynn to take the lead. He pauses before he leaves and sends a comm code to Tech, “Here. It’ll connect you to the Nightwing. If you should need it for any reason.”

And then he’s gone too, following Rynn out the hanger door.

Scorch has no idea what comes next. Though, based on the small smile on Rynn’s face, she not only has an idea, she even knows how to pull it off. They just need the rest of their family back.

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 8}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You're slowly getting back to a semblance of yourself after being given a life altering choice.

Word Count: 4.2k (it's a short one, apologies)

Warnings: WE GOT SHIRTLESS DIN Y'ALL, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, trauma, ptsd, nightmares, illness, reader throws up, allusions to past SA (not detailed), gun violence

A/N: this was a rather hard chapter for me to crank out, i wasn't sure how much of reader's personality would immediately show after the events of the last chapter, but i think i managed to do a decent job that doesn't make it feel like it's a different character altogether. she will come out of her shell more throughout the next couple of chapters as she gets used to traveling with our dear mandalorian as an equal

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The clearing was silent as the sun made its rise into the sky, displaying an enticing view of warm pinks and deep oranges that bled into the soft blue of the still waning night sky. Your gaze was locked with the visor across from you, so far and yet still closer than anyone had dared to approach you, with an offer no one had dared to extend to you before. But it didn’t feel real, it felt like a ploy despite the fluttering in your stomach at learning the name of the man who you had spent so much time with.

“How do I know this isn’t a trick, Din Djarin?” You spoke with more control than you truly had, voice strong despite the waning tears that now stained your face and left your eyes tinged with a telltale pinkness of their occurrence. Mind working to calculate the situation playing out, an edge of clarity to your eyes now that the high emotions had all but rushed out of your lips in outraged pleas. A new facet of who you were, of how you survived for so long, taking it in and mentally checking it, much like you were doing with the man across from you.

“My name… I have not spoken it aloud since I was a boy. I have not shared it with anyone,” Din took a step toward you, your body instinctively took a step back despite the fluttering in your middle at the confession. It was a warm feeling akin to the heat thoughts of him blazed underneath your skin in the darkness of night, but far more innocent. At the part of him he was willing to give to you, even after you threatened to kill him. “I…. want to share it with you, to prove to you that I will not harm you and give you something in return that could harm me if it were to leave the two of us.”

This was all so new, different sides of the alluring mystery you both posed to each other.

“You saved my life twice, when you had no reason to.” His words were strong, though there was a caressing of emotion in them you had only been allowed to glimpse before. “You deserve the same, you deserve to be saved, given a choice.”

It was hard to believe him, believe the words, the offering he was extending to you. You were sure he could pinpoint the conflicting emotions as they passed over your face. Positive in your very soul that he could tell you had never been handed a choice before and were confused over, especially coming from someone initially hired to capture you.

“It was the right thing to do.”

“As is this.”

“You- you want me to travel with you?”

“Yes, I would be honored to have you aboard the ship.” His tone was solid, with no hint of hesitancy or fraud in his words as they sounded in the air. “You are a strong fighter, a survivor.”

“Free?”

“You are free, I will do my best to ensure it until you wish to part ways.”

“What…what if I do something you don’t like or speak out of place?” The words you wanted to say died in your throat to allow for those ones to come to life. The confession of wanting to remain with him until he no longer wanted you around nearly slipping from your lips as the conversation continued. Because that’s what it was, a conversation. You weren’t being talked at or down to, he was talking to you, with you. He had begun to do so the second you had boarded his ship, even knowing the dynamic that he had initiated by taking you from that compound.

“I will not raise a hand to you, I’ve promised you that already.”

“I’m annoying, I say things under my breath, I-I-I…I’m selfish.”

“Then we can be so together.” A deep chuckle decorated the air of the clearing, making your heart stutter for a reason other than fear and anxiety for the several times since he entered your life. The sound was beautiful, and your selfish tendencies were already returning to you. You wanted more of it, of that sound, of being able to draw that sound out of him.

“Y-yes.”

He closed the distance of the clearing and came up toward you with his hands at his sides as he approached, the rising sun catching his amor in a mesmerizing way. He walked past your still form toward the wall of trees surrounding the space, retrieving the heavy pack he knew you had hidden in the brush. He hauled it onto his shoulder, his cloak billowing more with the weight resting along the upper part of it along his back. “Let’s get everything back on board before some food. Then we can rest after traveling all night.”

You felt a shy smile come over your lips, liking the sound of ‘we’ after being alone for so long. You reached for one of the trunks and hauled it up, following his lead back toward the ship. His steps faltered as he looked over his shoulder and saw the expression. You quietly asked him if he was alright, getting a nod from the man in response.

The hammock from your new pack was secured to the walls of the ship, off in the corner opposite of Din’s small personal quarters, near the wall that made up the back entrance to the ship. Your bag was atop it, heavier now with the other items you had purchased while in town with the villagers just yesterday. A time that felt so long ago, when you were worried about having to bide your time and make a run for it, run away from the man you could feel crossing the space of the hold toward you.

You jumped clean off the floor of the hold when a crate was set down with a loud thunk and you spun on your heels to face the sound. He was rather close as was the sound and your hand was tight around the handle of your saber, instinctually reaching for it. It should alarm you how used you were to his presence that it didn’t register how little distance was between the both of you, but you pushed that thought down to inspect at a later time.

You turned in time to see him using his right leg to scoot in neatly underneath the space below the hammock. There was enough room beneath it and the top of the storage to accommodate the weight of your body while resting.

“For you, for your…things.”

You nodded at him, aware of the weight of his visor taking in the small space you had claimed for yourself. Worry flared for a moment, worry that you had chosen a bad spot or infringed on his space in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It all tapered out of you in a shaky exhale, hands letting go of your weapon as you realized you had clenched your hand tight around it, your knuckles creaking with the effort and your fleeting, overwhelming emotion. Turning back around, you began to unload the pack into the open space of the crate with a small ‘thank you’.

“There…is a small cabin behind the flight room.” He reached out and his gloved hand gently turned you around, so you were facing him fully. You let him do so, your heart hammering in your chest at the casual contact, at his words. “We can make it your own space, more privacy than here in the hold.”

“I don’t want to intrude-“

“You wouldn’t, yours if you want it.”

Your body betrayed you at his words, at the phrasing. You felt your skin tingle as a whoosh of desire flared hot in your middle and your mind decided to recall the feel of his bare hands. You ducked your head, unable to keep a somewhat shared look with him as you pulled slowly from his light grip on your arm.  His hand lingered, brushing down the side of your arm to blossom comfort with his touch, as if he was aware of the waring emotions you were experiencing.

“I’ll…think about it.”

He leaned in close, helmet coming to rest on your forehead in another comforting action. Fingers reached out to wrap around his elbows before you realized you were even moving, reaching.

“I asked you to stay, mesh’la. Please don’t feel like you’re unwanted here.”

Lifting your eyes to gaze into the visor, you felt a shudder of something faint make its way down your spine. You were sure the man could feel the way your body reacted to it, this close to you. You could only nod in response to his words, your own too jumbled in your chest to voice.

With a slow nod in return, he was back over on the other side of the space, taking a seat at the makeshift table. The Child was atop it, exploring the food packages around him with excited gurgles. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you watched him, so excited with such a simple thing.

“The village packed us a lot of food, you’re welcome to any of it.”

“Oh, um, I…ate in town.” You shuffled on your feet, turning back to the small corner and began to unpack the items you had purchased in the village. “I wasn’t sure when I would get to eat next.”

It was quiet for a few heartbeats, the man focused on opening some of the wrapped bundles.

“You were going to run, even if that transmission hadn’t come through.” He wasn’t asking for confirmation, he was stating it as if he had been privy to the way your mind had been running, like it was second nature for him to know about the things that had occurred in your mind and influenced your actions. Maybe it was, to an extent. Having traveled with him for some time now.

“Yes.”

“I was going to leave a note.” You admitted, eyes falling closed as you gathered yourself. You didn’t reach for anything as you sat atop the other makeshift seat of a crate. Hands in your lap as you spoke, eyes still trained on the Child and his many noises.

Your lips quirked up when his small form turned to you with an outstretched hand. He was clutching a kebob in his little claw, cooked krill pieces skewered onto it. When you reached a hand out to take it, he fussed, shaking his head with a grumble. A soft laugh bubbled up as you opened your mouth and leaned closer to him. That seemed to be what he wanted, and he giggled freely as he watched you tear the topmost piece away with your teeth and began to chew it. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, you exaggerated a nod at him to let him know you liked the taste.

He turned his attention to Din and held his hand out once again.

A shake of the helmet made him frown, a little angry grunt sounding from his chest. He mimicked Din, shaking his head and then brandishing the kebob at him in a wave. He bumped it against the front of the helmet, right where Din’s mouth would be. And again, and again. It was making the only noise in the ship other than the odd beeping sound or so that signaled things were up and running.

With a deep sigh, one of Din’s hands came up and pressed something just underneath the front of the helmet, where it settled over his chin. The hiss of the helmet decompressing startled you and your heart thudded in your chest as froze in place across the makeshift table. Surely he wouldn’t just expose himself so casually…? The Creed of the Mandalorians forbade the removal of the helmet, and while that wasn’t the case for all of them, it was a rather important factor in the practice that Din took part in, that he was raised in. The hint of a strong jaw covered in dark scruff was visible as he quickly leaned forward and took a bite from the offered stick.

Just as quickly as the helmet had been lifted ever so slightly, it was set back in place.

The Child’s happy giggles echoed off the walls. He turned back to you with a large, toothy smile. Willing your heart to calm down, you returned the smile with a soft one of your own.

A shout ripped from your throat, and you were thrashing around as your mind was ripped from its stream of unconsciousness. Heart thudding painfully in your chest, panting with the effort to catch your breath, you sat up from the hammock, swinging your legs over the side of it. It was swinging with your harsh movements, the supports of it groaning with the actions. The door to the personal quarters across the hold slid open and Din’s form filled the doorway, a blaster in his hand.

You were shaking, body humming with adrenaline as your mind had decided to replay a rather harsh memory from your captivity. The roaring in your ears prevented you from hearing Din cross the space, moving toward you in nothing but his helmet and a pair of sleep pants. His gentle hands on your knees startled you and you kicked out at him, sending him stumbling back onto his backside and palms to catch himself.

“It’s me, mesh’la.”

You shook your head, bringing your hands up to cover your ears. Your throat constricted and the words you were trying to say warbled out incoherently.

“What do you need?” Din’s voice was dulled, as if you were hearing things through a tunnel. Your vision was blurry as you opened your eyes, blinking away the remnants of the nightmare. It was then that you realized you were crying, tears spilling over your lash line to race down your cheeks. They dripped off the end of your chin, splattering to the floor.

“W-water.” You managed to choke out, your skin feeling so caked in filth and the phantom touches from the men who had held you captive. Poor choice of words, you mused as Din moved to gather a pouch of water from atop the makeshift table. You were shaking your head as he turned back around with it in his hands. He could see the way your muscles twitched even from the short distance, your body reacting strongly to whatever your mind had decided to conjure up during your sleep.

“I need to clean. I feel- I feel their hands all over me.” You were pushing up from the hammock, holding a hand to your mouth as nausea roiled hot in your middle. Rushing across the hold toward to fresher, the door hissed shut just as Din caught sight of you crumpling to the floor in front of the toilet basin and heaving the contents of your stomach.

The sound of the shower running had Din standing in front of the door to the fresher with a change of clothes for you in his hands. He had gathered one of his shirts, recalling the way you had held the first one up to inhale his scent back on Sorgan. A small comfort he could offer you when words failed him, as they so often did, but especially in the wake of what just happened. The knock that sounded from his bare knuckles had you jumping underneath the spray of hot water raining down on your body.

Pausing in your frantic scrubbing, your head shot up and focused on the door through the frosted glass of the shower stall.

“Got you a change of clothes.” Din’s voice sounded muffled through the metal of his helmet and the shut door to the small room. “I can set the helmet to another setting and place them on the sink for you.”

“Th-thank you.” Hopefully he understood with your minimal response that what he was saying was alright with you. He seemed to understand, because the door hushed open, and his broad form filled the space of the room. You watched through the glass paneling as he placed a bundle of dark clothing down atop the sink. His helmet never turned toward you despite knowing he could feel the weight of your own gaze upon him. He left as swiftly as he had appeared, allowing you to finish your shower in privacy.

When you emerged from the fresher with damp hair and a new outfit that consisted of a baggy shirt and pants, the hold was empty. There was a single light left on the wall that held the ramp settled into while it wasn’t activated, illuminating the space in soft light. Your eyes landed on a steaming cup of something left on the table, watching the wafts of heat climb into the air. Smiling to yourself, you moved to take a seat and reached to cradle the hot ceramic in your hands.

You were nestled back in the hammock after finishing the warm broth, the liquid helping to sooth your settling stomach. Despite the comfort of an added blanket and the relaxing residual warmth from your shower, you couldn’t help but wring your hands where they rested atop your middle. Din had checked on the ship’s course before returning to his own space. The hush of his door nearly shutting closed the space off and left a weighted silence in its wake.

Settling down further into the blankets, a muffled sob made its way through your body, and you quickly clamped a hand down over your mouth to stifle it. Eyes darting to the small sliver of space that Din had left his door open to see if it traveled across the space toward him. Nothing akin to fear or worry or the instinct to run washed over you as a bulb lit up and his hand bare hand suddenly appeared and was shoving the door open with swift motions. He was across the space in a few long strides, the fabric of his sleep pants swishing around his legs with the speedy, tempered movement.

As soon as he was close enough, he was leaning over to place his hands underneath the curve of your knees and along your upper back, your hands going up around his neck as if they were made just for that. The blanket fell away from you as he lifted you into his arms, turning away from the set up you had made for yourself.

He carried you across the space back toward the door and it shut behind him as he settled you both into the small bed atop the cot that took up a majority of the space. His body was a warm line beside you, your arms loosening from around his neck to fill the space between your bodies atop the mattress. His hands busy pulling the discarded blanket up around you both, letting it settle around your hips.

Eyes trained on him across from you, breath labored as you took in the bare expanse of his chest. Nearly all of his bronze skin was on display in the dull light that probably needed replacing. Fingers twitching in an effort to not cross the space and run them over the temptation that was so close. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes closing to shield yourself from the want. As he spoke lowly to you, the rumbling timber of his voice caressed over you in a muffled sound.

When you opened your eyes back up from a long blink, the confusion in them let him know you had no clue as to what he had just said. His chest expanded as he took a deep breath and deflated as he let it out in a sigh.

“San,” The sound of your name had you focusing on the visor of the helmet looking down at you as he sat partially up on his elbow. His other arm reached out for you, hand encompassing your cheek as he repeated his soft-spoken words. You leaned into his touch, something you couldn’t find it in yourself to be ashamed of or embarrassed about at the moment. It just was, it was right, there was no thinking about it. “Do you want me to turn the light out?”

You reached out tentatively, fingers still twitching with the effort it was taking to restrain yourself from lunging at the man and wrapped your arms around the broad expanse of his bare chest. Fingers digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. Nodding in an answer to his careful question as you buried your head into the crook of his neck. His body moved around and underneath you to turn the light out, shrouding you both in darkness.

The helmet hushed against the fabric of his pillow as he laid down completely beside you. His strong arms came around you and pulled you flush against him, his legs tangling with your own beneath the blanket. Eyes already fluttering shut, you let out long exhale that faltered near the end. You were feeling completely at ease in the wake of that horrible nightmare, safe in this enclosed space, wrapped up in his arms, surrounded by the scent you associated with him.

The feeling of his even, steady pulse humming through his skin where your face was pressed into his neck lulled you into a peaceful sleep.

“I’ve got you.”  

The next morning, or what you assumed was the morning, due to time being hard to keep track during long space travel. It was something you weren’t sure you would ever get a handle on, not having much experience with longer space travel with the focus of seeking out hideaways. The ship had just dropped out of hyperspace, Din having set a random location in order to rest for the night with less threats. He was currently in the cockpit and you quelled the minor nerves at seeking him out after the breakfast you had made an effort to down alongside the Child.

You were cradling him on a hip as you climbed the ladder leading to the partial upper floor, his happy babbling announcing your arrival to the armored man before you physically entered the room. Setting him down in the chair to the right of the door, you turned your attention to the front of the room.

“I chose Tatooine, a few years ago.” Your voice was quiet, nearly a whisper as you walked up behind the pilot’s chair. Eyes trained on the hologram display of nearby planets. “My hideout should still be intact if the sands haven’t swallowed it. I had just installed new moisture farming equipment before…”

Tatooine looked much the same way as it did all those years ago when you picked it out of all the options you had assembled for a good hideout. Washed out and pale as you gazed at the display of the planet before you.

“That’s where….I thought we were when you took me from that compound.”

“Its an easy mistake to make, both are mostly open desert.” He was watching you as you flipped through the rest of the planets displayed as possible locations for the ship to land next, though he had already programmed it for Tatooine. The ships settings displaying as much when you checked the flight path. You could feel the weight of his visor on you as you boldly did so, not having asked to enter the control room let alone mess with the things he was organizing. You turned to face him with a deadpan look, punctuated by a single raised brow and mouth tight in a firm line.

“A fool’s mistake.”

“You’re not a fool, those kriffng bandits were.”

“Landscape here is more limestone, red rock more prominent on Arvala-7.” You gestured to the display with a wave of your hand.

Any other conversation to be had was put on hold the second a warning alarm trilled from the control panel. It was only a second’s notice before blaster shots landed on the starboard side of the ship. Your legs tensed as you tried to keep your balance through the turbulence, hands going out to grip onto anything within reach. It happened to be the armrest of the pilot’s chair. Your head swiveled around to see the Child’s frantic look, eyes wide and sounds of upset falling from him in a steady stream.

“Dank ferrick, we got someone on our tail. Sit down and buckle up, mesh’la.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

[idol--hands]

GOD HATES JEDI

[wild-karrde]

In Command - Part 17

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: I HAVE FINALLY RETURNED WITH A NEW INSTALLMENT OF THIS VERY NEGLECTED FIC (sorry). As always, thank you to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading for me!

Chapter Rating: E (18+ MINORS SKEEDADDLE)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, explicit sexual content (fingering, cum eating)

Word Count: 8.8k words

It was not an easy night. 

Rex awoke with Lothal’s twin moons high in the sky, casting wild, flickering reflections across the walls from the small water deposit inside the cave. He tried to will the ache in his chest away, hoping he could just doze back off and ignore it, but it eventually blossomed into a searing pain that felt as though it was tearing his upper torso apart. He wasn’t sure how long he tried to ignore it, and he didn’t realize he was groaning quietly until he felt a hand press against his cheek. His eyes flew open to find Senna hovering over him, her features etched with concern. 

“I’m giving you another dose. Hang on.” 

He might have protested if he was more alert, but before he could even think of an argument, there was a slight pinch in the muscles of his neck. The painkiller did its job almost instantly, flooding his body with relief, but it was nothing compared to the warmth he felt at the sight of seeing Senna still there, still with him. 

After all this time and everything I’ve been through, I’ve at least got that going for me.

He let his head rest back against the bag heavily as she wiped sweat from his face with a cool, damp cloth. She offered him more water, and that was when he realized desperately needed to relieve himself. 

Kriff. 

He tried to roll over and stand on his own, but even with the painkiller winding its way through his system, his knee buckled almost immediately when he tried to put weight on it. 

“Rex, stop. What do you need? I can get it.”

He grimaced at her. “Not something you can get, love.” 

Senna was clearly confused until understanding dawned across her face. “Ah. Ok, well I’ll help you stand and get outside.” 

“Sen, I can’t ask-”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you. I’d have done this even if we weren’t madly in love with one another.” She winked at him teasingly as she quickly pulled her clothes on, but the words she’d said made him almost giddy.

He gave her a pained smile. “I’d somewhat hoped to not ruin the magic just yet.” 

She grinned back at him and shrugged. “Who says it’s ruined?” 

Gently, she helped pull him to his feet, taking all of the weight off of his injured leg, and the two of them carefully started moving towards the mouth of the cave. Rex had always hated depending on people for seemingly routine tasks when he was injured or incapacitated, but somehow, having Senna hold him up and help him was far less humiliating than he’d anticipated. In fact, there was something oddly intimate about it. 

Madly in love with one another.

He was certain he’d never get tired of hearing those words. They sounded so good falling from her lips, he’d almost wondered if he’d dreamt them in the moment. Luckily, he had a massive wound in his chest to ensure he knew he was, in fact, quite awake. 

Rex managed to lean himself against the cliff’s face, bracing one shoulder against the rock, and was relieved that Senna turned away, absently kicking at a clod of dirt to give him a semblance of privacy. He managed to relieve himself with only minimal awkwardness and grunting, finally managing to fasten his pants closed again. 

Feeling triumphant and perhaps overly confident, Rex tried again to stand on his own once more, pressing his palms against the rocky wall, and again, he failed as his leg crumpled beneath him. Senna’s hands caught him immediately as his knee buckled, and she managed to haul him back to his feet.

“Stop being so stubborn and let me help you,” she muttered, pulling his arm back over her shoulders as she dug her fingers under his belt to hold him up. There was only a little heat in her words, but as he looked at her, he could see she was smiling. Everything about them felt natural to him: leaning on her for support, allowing her to help him, allowing her to love him fully and loving her just as much in return. Being with her was easy, the easiest thing he’d seemingly ever done. Of course, Rex understood there would be hard times still. It was inevitable, but at least for now, he relished this moment with her and the newness of it all. He smiled to himself as they limped back to the bedroll. 

Senna managed to ease him down with only minimal grunting and shuffling, offering him a sanitation wipe for his hands from the medpack before lying down next to him and pulling the blankets back up over them. Rex shifted onto his side to face her, propping himself up on one elbow. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she smiled at him, reaching out to gently touch his chest. 

“How are you feeling?”

“The best I’ve ever felt,” he rasped, feeling his cheeks beginning to ache from his smile. 

She rolled her eyes at that. “I’m serious, Rex.”

He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips and brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “So am I.” 

Senna ducked her head slightly, dipping her nose beneath the covers, and even though the dim lighting made it impossible to tell, he was certain she was blushing. After a few moments, she scooted closer to him, close enough that their noses brushed in the dark, and Rex slipped a hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head as he pulled her lips against his. 

Maker, he was certain he’d never get tired of kissing her either now that he’d been given permission to. And the best part was how eagerly she kissed him back, as if she too was basking in the newness of it all, of the fact that she no longer had to keep that part of herself locked away. 

“Careful,” she whispered, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Or else I may have to take you for another ride.” 

He chuckled against her lips. “As if I’d deny you that.” His hands were already moving, slipping underneath the blankets to her waistband, her skin flushed and warm under his fingertips. She groaned into his mouth as his tongue slipped past her lips, teasing her gently. 

“You need to sleep,” she mumbled, her scolding tone half-hearted at best. 

“I’ll sleep when we get picked up tomorrow,” he murmured, slipping his hand into her trousers. Despite her protests, Senna’s legs fell apart to grant him access, and he found the warm wetness of her arousal waiting for him underneath her undergarments. He huffed in satisfaction as he felt her breath stutter when his fingers grazed her soaked core.

“Besides,” he whispered against her ear. “I don’t think I could go back to sleep knowing how wet you are right now.” His fingers gathered her slick, circling her clit, and her hips bucked against his hand. Her fingers dug into his forearm, and she pressed herself closer to him, making it easier for him to slide two fingers into her cunt. 

“Rex,” she whined. 

“I’m right here, love. Tell me what you want.” 

The wound in his chest protested slightly as he worked his arm, plunging his fingers further into her and searching for the spongy place deep inside of her, but the pain certainly wasn’t enough to deter him, not with the way Senna looked right now. Her chest heaved with each high-pitched moan and gasp, and her cunt clenched around his digits. He felt her hips rise to meet his hand, pressing her clit against the heel of his palm, and he applied pressure, watching as the tendons in her throat became more pronounced. She gasped when he found that sensitive place inside her, pressing against it with the pads of his fingers as he pushed a third finger into her. 

The cave’s quiet was punctured by Senna’s whimpers and the obscene wet sounds coming from between her legs as Rex worked to bring her to orgasm. His cock was straining in his pants, but at the moment, he was completely focused on Senna, his own pleasure distant in his mind as she came undone for him. He’d pleasured other partners before, but there was something so very different about watching Senna come undone for him. 

He wanted to see her orgasm so badly, and he needed to be the one to give it to her. 

Her brows pinched together as she stared into his eyes, and he felt her body shudder once more, her cunt clenching around his fingers. He’d dreamt of giving her this pleasure for months, of what it would feel like and how she’d look, but nothing he’d ever imagined compared to this, and he was certain he’d never get enough of it, of her. 

The times they’d been intimate prior to tonight had been laced with apprehension, the looming question of what everything meant hanging in both of their minds. But now, he knew where he stood with her, no more secrets keeping them from fully indulging and letting go. 

And he certainly wasn’t going to be held back any longer.

“Don’t stop,” Senna whispered. 

Her eyes were pleading, begging for release, for pleasure that only he could give her, and he wanted nothing more than to watch her fall apart on his fingertips. He wanted to learn how to perfectly strum every inch of her, to map every place that made her orgasm, to memorize every sound so that he could know exactly how close she was to the precipice. The knowledge that he’d get to do just that, spend as long as he wanted touching and kissing every inch of her unhindered sent excitement coursing through his veins. 

She’s mine, and I’m hers. And I get to touch her like this. I get to sleep with her, sleep next to her, wake up with her in my arms. All of it. 

She was clutching his forearm so tightly, he was certain her fingernails were leaving crescent-shaped indentations in his skin, but when her spine arched and his name fell from her lips, he knew there would be no stopping himself from pulling her over the edge, no matter how much his body protested. His hips jerked reflexively, and pain shot through his leg. He buried his face in Senna’s neck, grunting against her skin. 

“Rex, we can-” she tried, noting his clenched teeth and labored breathing.  

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you. Tell me what you want.” 

“Kiss my n-neck,” she whimpered, relenting to him. “I… I like it when you do that.” 

Rex tilted his head so that he could press his lips against the sensitive place on her throat that he’d made a note of the first night they’d been intimate. Senna’s response was immediate, and Rex’s pulse thrummed with pride as she clenched around his fingers. 

“Rex… fuck, right there. Fuck. I’m close.” Senna was frantically grinding against his palm now. “L-let me touch you. F-fuck let me-”

“No, Sen. This is about you,” he replied huskily, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest and leg. He wanted to see her come undone again for him, needed it, and that trumped all of the pain he felt. He sucked the skin of her throat, and felt her pulse leap under his tongue. He loved that he could feel her approaching her orgasm, that the signs were already so apparent to him, but he’d always been able to read Senna. 

Now, he was just allowed even more. 

“Cum for me, Senna.”

Her back arched, and he pulled back to take it all in. Sweat beaded along her hairline as her mouth fell open. The tendons in her throat were taut under her skin as she unleashed a stuttering moan. He felt her cunt spasm around his fingers as she suddenly rocked forward, curling over herself and whimpering as she rode through her orgasm. 

“Rex, I-I…”

“I know, love. Let me have it all.” 

She shuddered a few more times, her cunt clenching in tandem with the waves of her climax before she finally slumped against the cave floor, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. When she finally opened her eyes, she grinned dopily at him, reaching towards his belt, but he stopped her. 

“But you-”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “That was what I wanted.” He leaned back, sucking her release from his fingers, and Senna playfully growled. 

“See? The magic’s still very much intact. Especially if you keep doing that to me.” 

Rex grinned, leaning down to kiss her. “I look forward to doing that more often. To doing everything more often.” 

He felt her mouth curl into a smile against his lips. “I’m open to trying anything if that’s the sort of orgasm I’ll get.” 

Rex stroked her cheek, resting his forehead against hers. “I’d give you anything you asked for, Senna Aven.” 

She bumped her nose against his before settling back onto her bedroll, her eyes still sparkling as she watched him readjust. Her hand gently grazed the bandage on his chest, smoothing over the edges that were starting to peel up slightly. 

“Maybe we wait for the more physically demanding asks until you get better.” Her voice was soft, and he could tell she was thinking about how he’d almost died. He hadn’t needed to be awake to know how strenuous that time had been on her. The minute he’d opened his eyes, he had been able to see the strain she’d been under, the fear and the desperation that came with him being on the brink of death. He’d felt a certain amount of guilt that she’d felt that way on his account, a guilt which had grown when he’d realized she’d sacrificed some of her own life force to save him. 

But now I carry a piece of her with me. Forever. 

He rested his hand on top of hers, meeting her eyes. “I love you,” he said quietly, hoping the words brought her peace and reassurance that he was still here, that he was hers.

“And I love you,” she whispered back. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come around. I just… I wasn’t sure I could be with you and keep you safe. But maybe I can do both.” 

“We keep each other safe,” he said quietly. “That’s what we’ve done from the start.”

“That’s right,” she agreed with a small smile. “There… there’s something I haven’t told you about me, Rex.” 

He couldn’t keep his eyebrow from rocketing up, and he could see it immediately made her nervous. “It-it’s nothing major. I just…it doesn’t feel right that you don’t know.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Just before…well, before the war ended, I was granted the rank of Master. I’m a Jedi Master.” 

Rex stared at her for a moment as he turned the new piece of information over in his mind. He was far from an expert in Jedi traditions, but he knew it was no small feat to be granted the rank of Jedi Master. That honor came with multitudes of privileges and responsibilities, none of which the Senna he knew seemed that interested in, so it did surprise him slightly. She was still watching him nervously, as if that piece of knowledge was something she’d long kept secret. 

She has, he thought. It’s the last bit of herself she’s kept hidden from me.

“Did you think that would change how I see you?” he asked, trying to probe for the source of her nerves. 

“Not necessarily. It’s… it’s something that was so new, and then when the Order fell, it didn’t feel right to even mentally acknowledge that. I felt like I’d failed and let the entire Order down, but it is a piece of me. Who I was… am. I’m… I’m a Jedi Master. And I wanted you to know that.” 

He squeezed her hand. “Well, since we’re sharing, I was technically a commander for a short while. I was promoted before Ahsoka and I left for Mandalore, but when I didn’t carry out Order 66, I was verbally demoted to captain again. Not sure how official that became since the ship we were on went down. But-” His mind stuttered as the image of the young Togruta he’d escaped with came to mind. 

Ahsoka. I haven’t told her.

“Rex?” Senna had lifted her head to look at him, clearly concerned something in the memory had wounded him. He smiled reassuringly. 

“There’s something else I meant to tell you. Never found the right time. But Ahoksa commed me.” 

Senna’s eyes widened, and she propped herself up. “When?”

He cringed slightly, embarrassed now at how much space he’d put between them.

I thought it was for the best.

And deep down, in the moment, he’d wanted that conversation with Ahsoka for himself. But now, it felt only right to share that with Senna, someone who cared just as much about the young Togruta’s wellbeing. 

“I had a message waiting when we got back from the capital.” 

She nodded, her teeth digging into her lip as she watched him for a few moments. “How is she?” she finally asked. 

“Safe. On Raada.”

“Yes, that’s good, but how is she, Rex?” 

He sighed, letting his gaze drift up to the ceiling. “Still hurting. Still finding her way.” 

Senna snuggled closer to him, pressing her forehead against his bicep as she ran her fingers along his arm until they interlaced with his own, gently squeezing his hand. 

“Do you think she’ll come back to the fight?” 

His eyes burned slightly, and he cleared his throat hard to keep the sudden rush of emotions at bay. “I hope so. I really do. But I’d understand if she didn’t.” 

Senna appeared to note the change in his tone, and she kissed his shoulder. “She’ll come back, Rex. Like I did. It might take longer, but I do think she’ll come around eventually. And I’m glad she called you.” 

He smiled, turning his head to meet her eyes. “I told her I was with you.” 

Senna raised an eyebrow. “And what did she say about that?”

Rex chuckled. “She liked the idea. I obviously told her things weren’t romantic at that point.”

Senna rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

“But she knew anyway. And I… I think she liked the thought that I wasn’t alone. That I had someone with me, someone she knew, in whatever capacity that was.”

He felt Senna hum against his skin. “Well, next time you talk to her, you can tell her things worked out. And that I was an idiot. She always did tease me about overlooking the obvious things in favor of making everything more complicated.” 

Rex smiled, managing to place a kiss to her forehead. “I think I can take some of the blame as well. I’d been trying to find the right place and time to talk to you for weeks, and just could never find the right way to start.” 

So instead everything came rushing out all at once. Every draft I’d thought through, unfiltered and anxious. The same thing happened last night. 

But it worked.

“You came around in your own time, and that’s all that matters,” he whispered. 

They drifted off intertwined with one another, both smiling as sleep took them. 

—

The sun filtered in through the cave entrance, bouncing off the surface of the small pool of water and the various rock formations, warming Senna’s cheeks and the parts of her that were poking out from under her blanket. Gently, she shifted, turning her face to look at the sleeping form lying next to her. Rex’s face was peaceful as his chest rose and fell in rhythm with his deep breathing. He had an arm draped over her, and when she shifted, she felt his grip on her waist tighten, a smile playing across his lips as he slowly opened his eyes to look at her.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Morning,” he rumbled.

“How do you feel?” she asked, searching his expression for any indications of him being in pain.

He smirked. “All things considered, not bad.” His eyes were playful, but she could see he still was a little uncomfortable. Leaning over, she dug through the medkit for another pain killer dose, but when she rolled back over, he stilled her hand. 

“I’m alright.”

“You’re hurting, Rex.”

“It’s not that bad.” 

She didn’t buy it, and she knew he could see her skepticism. 

“I want to wait in case the pain gets bad,” he said quietly. “Just in case our ride gets held up or we need to move. We’ve only got, what, one more in there?”

Senna sighed. “Yeah. Just one more after this.” She met his eyes. “I just hate seeing you hurt.” 

Rex huffed a laugh, wincing slightly as he reached to cradle her cheek with one hand. Senna leaned into his touch, sighing as she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin. She closed her eyes, placing her hand over his. 

“I promise I’m better than I’ve been in months, even though it might not look like it,” he replied, brushing some hair out of her face. 

She chuckled quietly, turning to kiss his palm. “You’re cheesy, you know that?” 

He shrugged. “I’ve heard that, although never in this sort of situation.” He played with one errant curl that framed her face. “I’d tried for so long to plan this big speech out to tell you how I feel, and you sort of got every draft of that last night. Everything just came pouring out at once.”

She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm. “I’m glad it did.” Her fingers brushed his brow, smoothing over the bandage on his forehead. 

“Maker, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. 

“I’m yours,” she replied, leaning down to kiss him deeply. 

“You sure?” he asked, his hand trailing along her back.

“Yes, for the first time in a long time, I am finally sure about something,” she said, resting her forehead against his. They sat like that for a few moments, basking in the peace. 

While part of her still whirled with worry of what was to come, the most overwhelming thing Senna felt was relief: relief that they were alive, relief that she’d been honest with Rex and herself, relief that he still felt the same, even after everything. 

We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out. Together.

Senna had the silliest thought for just a moment of the two of them just staying there, in this cave, hiding away from the galaxy and just being with one another. She immediately discarded it, knowing there was no universe in which that was a realistic option, but it was a nice thought, to just be with Rex.

“I should get up and get us ready to move out when Echo gets here,” she sighed after a few minutes. “I expect they’ll be here sometime before this evening.”

Rex tightened his grip on her. “Just a little while longer? I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

She thought about it and then slipped back under the blankets with him, wrapping her arms carefully over his chest. “Me too, even if I was too stubborn to admit it,” she sighed, tucking her head into the soft spot near his shoulder. “What are we going to tell the others?” 

She felt his fingers run through her hair, twirling her curls over his fingertips. “Whatever we want. We don’t even have to tell them anything if you don’t want to.”

Senna turned to look at him, resting her chin on his chest. “I don’t really care if you don’t. I just don’t want people to think that we…we’re compromised and unable to do our jobs. This work, this rebellion… it’s everything to me, Rex. I want to keep fighting.”

He grunted a little, brows furrowing. “Yeah, well those in charge don’t seem to feel the same.”

“Is this about the Ilum information?” she asked, stiffening slightly. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had the same thoughts, felt the same frustration. Even still, she felt the need to defend the rebellion and its leaders, as if admitting the movement that had given her life meaning at her lowest was flawed would destabilize the ground beneath her feet. She met Rex’s eyes. “They’ve got to make the best decisions they can based on very small pieces of intelligence. If they don’t think it’s feasible, then I have to respect it, whether or not I agree with it.”

He looked at her. “Do we? We risked a lot for that information, and to have it just shrugged away is…I don’t even know. Infuriating. It fits with everything else we’ve provided, so why would they just toss it away?”

Senna wasn’t used to seeing Rex insubordinate, and it shook her slightly. 

We all have our limits, and he’s been through a lot. Especially in the last few rotations. He has a right to be frustrated. 

She sighed, turning to press her cheek against him again. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

Rex stared at the ceiling of the cave for a few moments, and she could tell he was trying to carefully word his next question. 

“All of that, the not having our intelligence valued by leadership who aren’t out in the field with us, doesn’t that…bother you? And make you think that maybe this isn’t all worth it?”

Senna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady herself as some of the fears she’d dismissed threatened to come creeping back in. “Of course it bothers me, but what other choice do we have? It’s do this or do nothing.”

“Would nothing be so bad?”

“I don’t think I could live with myself.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“You could just walk away from this that easily?” she asked quietly.

“No, no it wouldn’t be easy. This is a fight I actually get to choose to believe in, not like the war. There, I was just lucky my personal loyalties aligned with what I was created for. But…in the same breath, if Organa and the others aren’t going to listen to what I have to say, then I don’t see the point in continuing to risk it all. Last time I was ignored, I wound up shooting my own brothers.”

Senna flinched at the mention of Umbara. Rex had confided in her about that campaign over one of their dinners, about how Pong Krell had lied and manipulated and misled him and his men. She knew it still haunted Rex, so it was understandable that he’d be cautious when he felt like he was being shrugged off or manipulated. 

But this was different. Very different. The rebellion leaders had good intentions and weren’t purposefully sending people to their deaths like Krell. They wanted to make the galaxy better, not purposefully cause harm. 

But if the results are the same, needless risk and deaths, then does their intent really matter?

She dug her teeth into her lip, trying to still her racing mind. Rex was right; doing nothing wouldn’t be terrible for them. In fact, it would damn near be bliss, just the two of them off on some remote planet. They could survive on their own, disappear and never be heard from again, and that thought did have a certain appeal. But it also conflicted with how she’d been raised, and she knew that deep down, Rex felt the same, even if he was saying otherwise right now. Still, it was nice to fantasize about how their lives might look if they abandoned the rebellion and let the galaxy do as it would.

But she loved Rex for his tenacity, for his selflessness, for how much he cared. Those qualities mirrored her own values and intentions in so many ways, and she knew those were what kept them both in the fight, even on bad days.

Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced up and met his gaze.

“I don’t disagree with your frustrations and your reasoning,” she said carefully, “but I have to believe I can drive change by being part of the rebellion. I can’t give up on it yet.”

Rex brushed some hair away from her face, sighing deeply. “I respect that. And that’s one of the many reasons I love you. You’ve got a lot of faith for someone that’s been through so much.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“It’s in my programming,” he joked dryly.

“No, it’s because you’re a good person, Rex,” she replied, squeezing him gently. 

He smiled, and she was almost certain there was a slight flush in his cheeks at the compliment. It was incredibly endearing, and somehow, she felt herself falling even more in love with him. Taking her hand in his, he kissed the top of her head. 

“I’d never give up the fight while you’re still here, Senna. And I won’t ask you to either.” 

Relief flooded through her, and she buried her nose in his chest, sighing deeply. 

“Thank you for understanding,” she said softly. 

“Of course,” he replied. “I meant it when I said I love you.” 

“Good. Because I’m not letting you take that back ever.” 

—

Senna managed to get everything repacked and Rex’s bandages changed one more time before the emergency beacon comm buzzed, alerting them to an incoming call. She felt her shoulders sag slightly with relief as Rex answered and Echo’s voice piped up on the channel. 

“Rex, we’re approaching your location now. You should see us in a moment.” 

Rex handed Senna the beacon as he pulled his shirt back down. The wound in his chest was looking significantly better even with just a day’s worth of healing, and Senna knew it concerned Rex. He’d been watching her carefully all morning, as if he was waiting on her to collapse from the strain. Fortunately, aside from some lingering exhaustion, she really didn’t feel terribly different. She was almost certain that the act of channeling her life force into him had taken a larger toll than the loss of the force itself, but it wasn’t a point she wanted to debate with Rex. She could see he felt guilty, but she hoped it would fade with time, time that they’d have together because of what she’d done. 

No regrets on my end. 

Unfortunately, his leg was still greatly limiting his mobility, so he could do nothing other than sit and watch as Senna grabbed her macrobinoculars and moved to the mouth of the cave, carrying the beacon with her. She scanned the horizon until she finally picked up the approaching ship. It was an Omicron-class attack shuttle that looked like it had been to hell and back. 

Certainly traveling in style, she thought grimly, her mouth pulling into a tight line.

The shuttle landed carefully about a hundred meters from the cave entrance, folding its wings up as it touched the ground gently.

“They’re here,” Senna announced. “I’ll be right back.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere,” Rex huffed from where he sat.

Senna grinned, tossing a wink over her shoulder at him as she made her way towards their rescuers.

The shuttle door opened and a set of stairs dropped to the ground as a group of clone troopers in armor unlike any Senna had ever seen stepped out, walking to meet her. Echo was the first one to her, his scomp arm giving him away even before he removed his helmet. Senna gave him a big hug that seemed to momentarily catch him off guard, but he chuckled, returning her embrace. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. We were in a pretty bad jam,” she told him, patting him on the back congenially.

“You’ll have to tell us all about it once we get you loaded up. There were some Imperial scout patrols we spotted on the way in, and I don’t want to wait around too long. I doubt they’ll give us as warm of a welcome.”

Senna managed to suppress the shudder that threatened to tear through her. 

A few more hours and we might have been up to our necks in Imps. 

“Seems your timing is impeccable,” she joked dryly. “Care to quickly introduce me to your brothers?”

The second clone was lean with armor that most closely resembled the armor that Senna was used to from the troopers she’d worked alongside, although it had clearly been repainted, as they all had. His helmet gave off a particularly menacing impression despite its teal coloring that wasn’t alleviated when he removed it to reveal a face that was tattooed in the pattern of a skull on one side. He wore a red headband that also had a skull depiction that somewhat matched the scarf around his neck. The clone’s voice was surprisingly gentle as he extended a hand to her. “Hunter ma’am…er, General,” he corrected, glancing down at her lightsaber.

Senna’s eyes widened as her hands flew to cover her weapon from view instinctively. Echo gently grabbed her arm. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “But it’s alright. We’re friends. I promise.” 

“No one was supposed to know,” she muttered. 

“But Rex does?”

She nodded. 

“Well, your secret’s safe with us,” the largest clone rumbled from beneath his helmet. Pulling it off, he revealed an incredibly scarred face and one milky white eye, but the warmth he exuded almost negated his size and physical appearance. “We’re good at keeping secrets.”

“That’s Wrecker, and that’s Tech,” Echo said, gesturing at the last clone in white armor accented with orange and black. The clone was busy typing something on his datapad and halfheartedly waved hello before pushing his visor back up a little further on his helmet, his goggles reflecting the glow of the datapad’s screen.

“Well, it’s great to meet you. Also, for the record, not a general,” she said turning to Hunter. 

He nodded. “Commander, then?”

“Nope, just a normal technical specialist that also happened to be a Jedi,” she grinned. That statement finally grabbed Tech’s attention as he looked up from his datapad, readjusting his goggles to survey her more carefully with bright, attentive eyes.

Echo let out a chuckle at Tech’s reaction. “I figured you two might get along.”

“As much as I’m enjoying all this chit-chat, we really should get you two loaded up on the Marauder,” Hunter interrupted. “The patrols weren’t too large, but I’d still rather not risk it.” 

“You’re right,” Senna agreed. “You guys are going to have to help move Rex. He’s not in much of a state to be doing anything right now. Also, if you’ve got better first aid on that ship, he could probably use a second look. I’m not well-versed in medicine, but I did what I could.”

“I’ll get him,” Wrecker grunted, stepping into the cave. The massive clone squatted down next to Rex, and the captain reached up to grasp his arm in greeting.

“Good to see you again Wrecker. If you’re gonna pick me up, maybe do it a little gentler this time.”

Wrecker cackled at that. “If you insist, Cap.” Slipping his arms under Rex, Wrecker lifted him bridal style as if he was weightless, carrying him back out towards the ship.

“I probably could have walked on my own, you know,” Senna heard Rex mutter as he was carried past her.

“Yeah, well better safe than sorry,” she called after him, biting back a giggle.

Suddenly, Hunter stiffened next to her, whirling to look out over the plains behind them. Senna followed his line of sight, noting nothing at first aside from the breeze whistling through the grass. It was quiet. Too quiet. 

Taking notice of his brother’s reaction, Tech stepped forward, bringing up his macrobinoculars to look in the direction Hunter was staring.

“It seems we’ve been spotted. One patrol inbound, about a klick out and closing fast. It would appear they have a troop transport and an AT-DP.”

“Great. Better hustle,” Hunter grunted. 

Senna nodded, sprinting back into the cave to grab her bag while the clones crouched down behind a rock formation to huddle up. As she sprinted back to them, she could hear Tech speaking quickly to Hunter.

“I still need time to complete the pre-flight sequence since the hyperdrive’s been misbehaving. Otherwise, I feel our chances of getting out of here will be significantly lower.”

“Then do it,” Hunter sighed. “We’ll keep them busy until she’s primed for takeoff.”

“I think I can help with that,” Senna said. “Tech, can you get my bag aboard?”

The goggled clone nodded, taking her sack and sprinting off towards the ship without another word. Senna unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, and that seemed to serve as the cue for Hunter and Echo, who both slid their helmets back on. Senna’s eyes widened as she noticed that Echo’s helmet snapped into place under the equipment wrapped around his head.

“Ok, I have a lot of questions about that helmet later,” she said with a grin.

“Thought you’d like that,” he chuckled, his voice now modulated through the vocoder.

Hunter drew his weapons. “Alright, take cover behind the rocks. Echo and I will draw them in, you slice and dice. Also, if you’ve got any ideas about how to take down that walker, I would love to hear them.”

Senna’s teeth dug into her lip as she considered it. “Let me think on it a bit and I’ll get back to you,” she said, ducking down behind the rocks.

Adrenaline thrummed through Senna’s body as she felt the rumble of the approaching transport grow louder until it felt like it was rattling her chest, and the ground shook slightly with each of the walker’s heavy steps. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she felt sweat begin to bead along her brow. Hunter and Echo crouched down beside her, training their blasters on the transport and starting to pepper it with fire. Senna drew hers as well from its place at her hip, firing at the oncoming transport. A few return blaster bolts hit the rocks in front of them, and they ducked lower, covering their heads as pebbles and dust rained down around them.

“You got any explosives or disruptor cannons on that ship?” Senna yelled over the noise.

“Nothing big. We were due for a restock when you commed. Just got a few detonators on me,” Hunter replied, continuing to fire at the transport as it began to slow. The walker was now within range as well, and its weapons shrieked as it unleashed a barrage on their cover. Senna covered her face as much as she could as a cloud of dust inundated them, coating her tongue with dirt and stinging her eyes. She coughed and spluttered loudly as the two clones next to her continued to fire. 

“That walker is gonna be a problem,” Hunter shouted over the din.

“Alright, since we’re out of luck with anti-tank explosives, we’re going to have to get that thing close enough for me to do something about it. Our blasters will be useless against its armor,” Senna yelled back, blinking hard to clear the grime from her eyes. 

“I’m assuming that’s when you’re going to get that fancy saber out?”

She smirked. “That’s the plan.” 

Hunter nodded, and she was pretty sure he was grinning under his helmet. “You got it.”

The troop transport skidded to a stop a few hundred meters from their position, and stormtroopers began pouring out of it, their armor glinting in the sunlight. The walker moved into position behind them, steadily bombarding the rocks Senna and the clones were hunkered down behind. Senna tried to cover her head and make herself smaller, and Echo grunted next to her as a large chunk of rock cracked against his helmet. 

“Are you alright?” he yelled over the commotion.

“Yeah, but we’ve gotta scatter these guys a little. We’re sitting mynocks with that walker!” She chewed her lip for a moment. “Hunter, how many of those detonators do you have?”

The sergeant reached into a hip pouch, pulling two out and waving them at her. “These and a few more. Should be enough to be a problem.”

Senna nodded. “Great. Toss these into the middle of the pack when I give the signal. Echo, give him cover fire.”

“What about you?”

She unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, grinning. “Like you said. Time for the fancy saber.” 

Hunter and Echo nodded in acknowledgement. Senna moved to a low crouch and focused on the environment around here. She could feel the troopers across from her, the pilots of the walker, and something else. It felt cold, strange, threatening, but distant. 

No time to examine anything. Worry about what’s in front of you. Focus.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes. 

“NOW, HUNTER!”

Hunter stood, flinging the explosives right into the middle of the pack of approaching stormtroopers. Senna leapt over the rocks as the explosives went off with a roar, immediately downing half a dozen of the troopers. Several more were flung in various directions from the blasts while the remaining ones still on their feet scattered for cover. Echo picked off a few that were on the ground while Senna advanced on the soldiers that were still standing on their right flank. In two bounds, she was on them, her lightsaber humming as it sliced through metal, plastoid, and flesh.

She didn’t relish killing, but she did love the feeling of the warmth racing through her, the presence she’d cut herself off from for over a year. It felt right, smooth, as if she was a fish in a current, made to swim through the flow around her. She felt everything, but most of all, she felt like herself, really and truly, for the first time in a long time. 

Turning, Senna reached out with the Force to fling a line of advancing troopers coming from the other direction back against the rocks. Hunter was on them in an instant, pulling a vibroblade from a sheath on his wrist and slicing through any blasters within his reach as he fired with the DC-17 in his other hand. 

“BEHIND YOU!” she heard Echo yell, and she felt one of the troopers behind her raising his blaster and taking aim at her. She dropped the blade of her lightsaber behind her back just as the weapon fired, deflecting the shot back into the stormtrooper’s helmet.

“Not bad for a technical specialist,” she heard Hunter laugh. 

“We’re not done yet!” she shouted back.

“Heads up!” Hunter tossed her two more detonators. “For the walker!” 

Senna nodded, taking off towards the lumbering machine at a sprint. She zig-zagged as she raced forward, leaping between the rocks as the walker fired at her, sending dirt and rocks flying from her footprints, but she managed to stay a step ahead. When she was within ten meters of it, she reached out and focused, channeling the Force around her into a jump. She leapt through the air, landing crouched on top of the walker. The metal hummed underneath her fingertips, but she was already moving again, reaching for the hatch and ripping it open. Two startled Imperials yelled as she dropped the detonators in before slamming the hatch shut and sprinting towards the front of the walker. She dropped into a slide, slicing off the cannon on the front panel with her lightsaber as she skidded by it, wincing as the edge of the viewport scraped her back and shoulders. 

The ground rushed up at her as she slid off the front of the walker, and she managed to roll as she slammed into the dirt, scrambling forward as the mechanical beast exploded, teetering forward and falling. Hunter and Echo grabbed her just as the walker fell, diving out of the way and obscuring them in a huge dust cloud. The durasteel groaned and smoldered, and the ground shuddered beneath them as what remained of the crew compartment crashed down a few meters from them.

Senna could smell smoke and burning electronics as she lay in the dirt between Hunter and Echo, trying to catch her breath and listening for any signs of life from their attackers. There were none, and she closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. 

Not bad for being rusty. 

She heard approaching footsteps and opened her eyes to find Wrecker’s massive boot centimeters from her face. 

“Awwww come on!” Wrecker moaned. “I wanted to blow it up!”

“Better luck next time, big guy,” she joked as he pulled her to her feet with ease.

Wrecker helped Hunter off the ground next, and Senna yanked Echo up, dusting off his kama as he straightened. Hunter’s hand flew to the comm button on his helmet. 

“Talk to me Tech. Are we ready to go?” Senna saw the clone’s spine straighten as he dropped his hand. “We’ve got to go. Tech says there’s another speeder inbound, and it’s going to be here in a few seconds. Ship’s ready and I think I’ve had enough fun for one day.” 

Senna nodded, but the chill she’d sensed still lingered. Reaching out, she felt it surge suddenly, curling through her veins. She didn’t know who or what was on that speeder, but a sharp spike of fear tore through her. 

Whatever was coming wasn’t good. 

Echo seemed to notice her discomfort, tilting his helmet at her, but she just gave him a tight smile. “He’s right. We should go.” 

Dipping his head, Echo started sprinting towards the ship. Hunter glanced at her, but followed Echo, seemingly understanding there’d be time for questions later. Senna let Wrecker go ahead, lingering slightly to scan the horizon before turning and running. The cold was piercing now, growing stronger with every passing second, and Senna tried to keep her alarm in check. She’d never felt anything like this, but she’d heard Anakin describe it enough to recognize the sensation: it was the presence of a Dark Force user, and they were strong. 

Senna could now hear the speeder approaching above the sound of the walker burning and the whine of the shuttle’s engines. The Marauder was close, but tossing a glance over her shoulder, she confirmed the speeder would overtake them.

I’d rather meet them in the open, away from the ship. 

And in spite of herself, she was curious. She slowed, reigniting her lightsaber.

Echo and Hunter had paused, noting her hesitation. 

“GO!” she shouted over her shoulder. “I’ll buy you some time, just leave the stairs down for me when you take off.”

Hunter started to argue, but Senna was having none of it, raising her hand. 

“That’s an order, Hunter.” 

“Let’s go,” Echo urged, seemingly understanding something was wrong. Hunter glanced at the approaching speeder, clearly weighing his options before he appeared to concede with a nod. Without further argument, the clones sprinted for the ship just as the speeder disappeared into the dust cloud the walker had created.

Senna turned to face the new enemy, squaring her feet in the dirt as she reached out again.

The speeder was mostly obscured from view by the lingering dust cloud, but she could just make out the silhouette of a tall, armored figure as the engine quieted to an idle. The newest assailant appeared unrushed, observing her for a moment with a strange interest before walking towards her with a slow, deliberate pace. Senna narrowed her eyes, reaching further to try and glean anything, but without warning, her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt darkness reaching back, squeezing her lungs, and she fell to her knees, gasping. The darkness felt overwhelming, consuming, and for a moment, she wondered how Anakin had stood against this feeling so many times and come back seemingly unphased. A chilling voice slithered through her mind. 

Well hello, Master Aven.

“Who are you?” she shouted, trying to keep her voice from shaking. 

Get it the fuck together, she internally chided herself.

The voice intruded into her head once more. 

I am the one who will correct the wrongs of those who came before me. I am the Grand Inquisitor.

The figure extended his arm, igniting a dual bladed lightsaber that glowed red in the dust. Senna’s breath caught in her throat as her fears were confirmed. 

A Sith.

She scrambled backwards in the dust as the Inquisitor slowly began to advance on her. Senna could see his face clearly now; he was a Pau’an, tall and thin with the trademark pale skin and red markings. He wore black armor emblazoned with the Imperial symbol that appeared spotless even with the surrounding dust swirling in his wake. His eyes glowed yellow, and his lip was curling into a grin that revealed sharp teeth. 

“Now now, little one. There is no need to run. It will only prolong things,” he said, finally speaking aloud. His voice was soft and yet threatening in its tone, and it sent another shudder rippling through Senna. Behind her, she heard the engines of the Marauder fire up as it lifted off the ground. The Inquisitor’s yellow eyes flicked to the ship, and he huffed a laugh.

“It appears your friends are leaving you to die. No matter, they will be dealt with in due time.” 

Senna pushed herself to her feet, trying to hide the way her legs were shaking underneath her. Her anger fought for control with her fear. 

“You will not harm them,” she snarled. “I won’t let you.”

The Pau’an raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Oh? I don’t know that you’ll have much say in the matter.”

Rage flared within Senna, winning the battle with her apprehension, and she charged him. The Inquisitor’s grin widened as he deftly blocked her first blow with no more effort than if he were swatting an annoying insect. Senna continued to swing her blade wildly, and he continued to parry her at every turn. As she sidestepped him in an attempt to flank, he thrust out his hand, lifting her off of her feet and flinging her into the rock face with a flick of his wrist. Her shoulder blades slammed into the stone knocking the wind out of her, and she knew she was going to bruise as she fought to refill her lungs with air. 

The bruises are the least of my problems at the moment. 

The Inquisitor was already coming towards her again, glowing red blade at his side, prepared to attack again. Senna huffed frantically, scrambling to get back on her feet. 

GET UP. GET UP. GET UP.

Suddenly, the ground between her and the Inquisitor exploded with blaster fire, and a new cloud of dust was kicked up as the Marauder hovered above them. Whoever was flying had maneuvered the ship to allow Wrecker to shoot at the Inquisitor with the ship’s gun, and Senna could hear him cackling gleefully through the ship’s open door. The Pau’an leapt backwards away from her, deflecting the blasts back towards the ship. Some of the bolts peppered the outside, scarring the hull, but mercifully not hitting anything critical. 

They won’t be that lucky forever.

Senna saw her chance and took it, hooking her lightsaber back on her belt, sprinting towards the open door on the side of the ship as hard as she could. She could see Hunter hanging out of the door, peppering the Inquisitor with fire and dodging the deflected bolts that were slamming back into the side of the ship. 

“COME ON, SENNA!” Hunter shouted. “TIME TO GO!”

Channeling the Force once more, Senna leapt, stretching her arms out towards the dangling stairs. Her fingertips slammed into the bottom step and she held tightly as her legs swung wildly underneath her. Her knuckles creaked from the strain, and she ground her teeth, clinging hard as the ship shuddered and jerked.

“ECHO, COVER ME. I’M GONNA GRAB HER. TECH GET US OUT OF HERE!” Senna looked up in time to see Hunter hook a cable to his belt and carefully make his way down the steps towards her as the ship quickly began gaining altitude. He reached out, grabbing Senna’s wrist and helping her pull herself back up. The ship rocked violently again, and Hunter swore as he gripped the cable holding them and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Senna fumbled to find a handhold on his armor and wound up just clinging to him clumsily as he yanked her up the stairs with him. With one final lurch, they flew through the hatch together and collapsed on the inside of the Marauder just as Echo slammed the door closed behind them.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @ladykagewaki @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[anakinsthot]

34 and obikin for the fic list! 👀👀👀

Thank you for this prompt!

from this prompt list

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au (760 words)

Someone had allowed the event planner to hire a quartet of jizz-wailers for the masquerade. The off-key kloo horn player was adding to the headache that Obi-Wan’s elaborate suit and matching mask had brought on at the beginning of the night. The only upside to the mask Obi-Wan had been required to don for it was that it hid his facial expressions. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his distaste for the worst of the songs otherwise.

The mask otherwise was nothing but a hindrance. The Order had sent him because they’d gotten a tip that there would be an illicit deal taking place during the ball: that the Zygerrians were selling force sensitives to the Neimoidians. For what purpose was unknown, and Obi-Wan was tasked with stopping the deal and gathering information. He had his suspicions on which Trade Federation and Zygerrian representatives would be here, but it was difficult to identify anyone with the ornate masks and disguises every being in the room wore.

Obi-Wan was startled out of his perusal of the dance floor – he’d been tracking three different Zygerrians on the floor, and he was about to rule out one of them as his mark - by someone bumping into his elbow and spilling their drink on him.

“So sorry, I didn’t see you there. Here, let me help you clean up.” Before Obi-Wan could say anything the stranger had looped their arm through his and was pulling Obi-Wan toward the freshers.

“I’m quite alright,” Obi-Wan protested, “It’s just white wine, I can just grab a napkin here to clean it up.”

“Kriff,” the stranger muttered. “I knew I should have grabbed a different drink.”

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and dug his heels in. Regardless, the other man kept dragging him. Unwilling to cause a scene, Obi-Wan gave in and followed. When they made it through the fresher door the stranger took off his blue and green mask, covered in large feathers, and revealed his face.

“Again, I’m so sorry Master Kenobi, but I’ve got important information for you.” Earnest blue eyes met his and Obi-Wan swallowed back the biting retort he’d been prepared to reply with.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he said instead. The stranger bit their plush lip, drawing in Obi-Wan’s eyes, while they debated whether to reveal their identity or not.

“Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the man said finally, offering his hand out for Obi-Wan to shake. Instead, he grasped his fingers gently and bent down to press a soft kiss to the back of Anakin’s hand. “I – I’m a shadow from the Tatoo system. I’ve been tracking the Zygerrians you’re here for.”

Obi-Wan pushed his own mask up so he could speak to Anakin face to face. It was a relief to have another Jedi here. Normally this mission would have been assigned to a Master with a senior Padawan, or two Knights, but with rising tensions throughout the galaxy the Jedi were spread thin.

“Pleased to meet you Anakin,” he said warmly. “People might start to notice if we hide in the fresher for too long, why don’t you fill me in on the dance floor?”

Anakin smiled and put his mask back on before looping an arm through Obi-Wan’s. “I’ll follow your lead, Master.”

On the dance floor, Obi-Wan drew Anakin close and guided him into a simple dance step. Anakin followed his lead easily. They spun around the floor and Anakin pointed out the Zyerrian he’d followed across two systems, and told Obi-Wan what he’d learned about the trafficking operation. They had some time until the handoff, and Obi-Wan decided to keep them on the dance floor and wait for the mark to leave before they followed.

Tipping his face down, Anakin whispered into Obi-Wan’s ear. “What do you say after we kick some slaver ass and free some force sensitives, you give me a ride on your ship after?” He let one of his hands slide down Obi-Wan’s chest, making his intentions clear.

Obi-Wan pulled back slightly to get a better look at Anakin. “Surely they teach shadows how to flirt better than that?”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

“Force help me, it is. Though you could have gotten what you wanted without opening your mouth.” Anakin smirked at him and started to say something. “Don’t say anything,” Obi-Wan said exasperatedly.

Anakin wiggled his eyebrows and pulled Obi-Wan off the floor. “Come on,” he said excitedly, “it’s go time. We can talk about what to do with my mouth after we take care of this.”  

[d-a-n-n-y-y]

Imagine...

Prince!Luke skywalker x knight! Fem reader

Being Luke's personal knight bodyguard and you always kept being serious about your job,your duty,and serving the Skywalker family and him immediately falling for you secretly,he wont admit it and he kept a secret to himself to his parents except his sister princess leia knows(dont worry she won't tell either kept teasing him about it,you being oblivious about it.

[armitagehuxsleepschedule]

Kylo: The only thing I'm guilty of is being sexy. And also multiple war crimes.

[ct-hardcase]

I've said it before on twitter but honestly though I'm firmly in the "tcw is actually a kids show, just one that leans more mature/all-ages" camp, one of the things that definitely feels iffy to have in a kids show for me is that ahsoka is sexualized/implied to be sexualized by grown adults multiple times throughout