#jedi reader

[decembermidnight]

Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3 - Read Part 2 here!

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

“I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him. 

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again. 

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.  

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen. 

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus. 

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate. 

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.”  You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected.  The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his. 

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on. 

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man. 

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most. 

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you. 

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close. 

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants. 

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body. 

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear. 

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina." 

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him. 

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock. 

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure. 

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels. 

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that. 

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts. 

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine." 

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan. 

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i.

summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.

pairing: captain rex x female jedi!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it

a/n: it’s back!!! previously i posted this series on my main, @brrmian, but i changed that blog’s username and have mostly shifted over to fanart and general SW content. i’ve decided to dedicate this new side blog’s content entirely to fic writing under my old username, posting reader insert on here and everything else on ao3! this fic will be updated sparsely but definitely more often than it was on my main. i’ve changed a few things regarding the plot of this series specifically, and i like it a lot more now!!

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You hadn’t wanted to leave the Temple behind—you still don’t, even lightyears away from the Core.

When the Jedi Council had first made you aware of the plan to have you and a Master you’d never met capture an Umbaran airbase with troops that were not your own, you had put up something of a fight. What right, you demanded, did the Chancellor have the right to simply pull a Jedi from their sacred duty for a trivial air-to-ground assault?

The Council had either not wanted to answer this question or had not known how to, so now you stand on a transport gunship with two clone troopers and an intimidatingly tall Besalisk Jedi Master by the name of Pong Krell. Both of you are holding onto the grab handles hanging from the ceiling; you’re gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are slightly pale, but Krell looks perfectly steady.

Of course he is, you think bitterly. He has four arms.

The atmosphere of Umbara is breathable but strangely thick—fog seeps through the blast door openings, and the lights inside the gunship’s passenger bay seem to have dimmed. Your lightsabers bump against your hips and you wince slightly as sounds of frantic gunfire reach your ears.

This will be your first campaign.

You have seen death before, on missions as a Padawan before the war—but never on this scale, if the reports of your already-knighted friends from the Temple are anything to go by. You only hope that you will be assigned your own battalion soon, so you don’t have to go running around replacing wayward Generals.

It’s hard, standing at the side of an imposing Master, not to feel like a Padawan. The skin behind your right ear burns with the memory of the braid that had been there just last week, waiting to be sheared off as you prepared for your ascension to Knighthood.

While your battalion assignment is pending, Master Windu told you as you stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the Senate has requested that we send two Jedi Knights to replace Skywalker on Umbara.

Master Krell is already on-world, assisting Master Kenobi, but he will need another Jedi’s help if he and the 501st are to take the capital in Skywalker’s stead, Master Plo explained, his hologram flickering as he called in from some faraway world.

All due respect, Masters, you remember asking as you willed yourself not to tremble, but why me? I’ve never been anywhere near the front. I wouldn’t be much help.

Believe in your potential, we do, Master Yoda said. An opportunity for you to do good, the Force has given you.

And that, it was decided, was that.

Even now, after meditating on your anxiety for practically the entire journey through hyperspace, your nerves feel impossibly frayed. The transport jostles, but you only sway slightly, arm already holding onto an overhead handle for balance. There’s a shiny new military-issue commlink attached to your right vambrace. A morbid thought, of calling in a medevac for injured soldiers with this very communicator, crosses your mind—but you let it dissipate.

The gunship suddenly makes a sharp dive, and your stomach swoops—you must be about to land. You spare a glance at General Krell, who has now let go of the grab handles and has crossed all four of his arms over his chest. For a moment, you’re almost tempted to ask how he manages to stay so balanced while the ship is moving, but then the blast doors slide open and the gunship lands in shadowy darkness.

The first person you see is Anakin Skywalker. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger—despite having been knighted several years earlier, as one of the first Padawan victims of the Jedi Military Integration Act. Your Master, ever traditional even when the Order began to stray from its centuries-old teachings, did her best to keep you apprenticed for as long as possible, but even that eventually proved futile.

In the end, you and Anakin are practically of the same age, and yet he has infinite more experience than you. Uncertainty wheedles its way into your chest and slips a pin into your lungs; you’re holding your breath as you follow Krell off the gunship.

Being far shorter than the Besalisk, you have to jump down. When you hit the ground, you shiver at the misty atmosphere, watching as bioluminescent specks of dust fly up underneath your boots.

As the two of you approach, you hear the troopers of the 501st legion mutter amongst themselves, but you push it aside and focus on the pleasantries.

“General Krell. General Neridian,” Anakin says, smiling graciously. “My thanks for the air support.”

“Indeed, General Skywalker,” Krell replies, bowing politely. “The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated.”

“We managed to get here in one piece, though,” you add jokingly, and Anakin smirks, his eyes twinkling. You gesture to the troopers unloading the gunship behind you. “And we brought ration resupplies.”

Anakin nods appreciatively, then raises one eyebrow after a moment, looking slightly confused. “But—that’s not the reason for your visit.”

“No,” Krell admits. “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately.”

“What?” Skywalker demands. “Wh-why?”

“The Chancellor...” you pause, searching for a word, before you settle on, “insisted that you return. The Council had no say on the matter.”

“That is all they would tell us,” Krell adds, though he doesn’t sound displeased.

“Well, I—I can’t just leave my men!” Anakin protests, and for the first time you notice the trooper standing at attention beside him.

He’s identical to all the clones you’ve met, of course, except for one detail—his hair is blond. You wonder vaguely if it would be polite to ask him whether or not it’s natural as you survey his armor. The pauldron on his left shoulder indicates a position of command, but he carries a sense of individuality in the Force that, despite your inexperience with working with them, you’ve come to realize every clone has. His helmet is painted with a distinctly Mandalorian sigil, but it’s not one you recognize.

His gaze is pointed directly ahead; he makes no eye contact with you. Probably just as annoyed at the change of plans as Anakin is, you realize.

Krell moves to speak, jolting you from your thoughts. You recognize Anakin’s agitation, however, so you calmly move to intercept.

“The Council would not just leave your troopers to fend for themselves—not that they aren’t perfectly capable of doing so, of course,” you add, which merits the barest hint of a smile from the trooper standing beside Anakin. “It’s just… well, the Senate needs a Jedi to be at the head of every campaign, and I guess they figured subtracting one of you would mean—”

“—adding two other Jedi,” Anakin says with a snort of derision. “Yeah… sounds like the Senate. But you guys’ll probably get it done faster anyway.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” interjects the trooper, and Anakin looks to him. “We’ll have this city under control by the time you’re back.”

“Generals, this is Captain Rex, my first in command,” Anakin says fondly, and you see something like pride show itself in Rex’s eyes. “You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you affirm earnestly.

“Yes, that is good to hear,” Krell agrees, then places a large hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”

Anakin simply nods at him, then stops beside you and says, “I hear you passed the Trials.”

You gesture to your hair, now void of a Padawan braid. “Apparently so,” you reply. “Funny, I didn’t think you were one to get swept into the rumour mill.”

A grin, boyish and bright, springs to Anakin’s face. “Nah, I’m always one for good gossip.” His expression turns softer, then, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, though… congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say, but he’s already approaching the gunship and taking hold of one of the grab handles. The ship is off within seconds, and you can’t help but feel apprehensive as it flies away, up into the fog.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you turn to Rex and offer a polite nod. He returns it, then says, “It is an honour to be serving with you, Generals.”

“The honour is all mine,” you return graciously, and Rex looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops when Krell begins to speak.

“I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honour,” he begins, then—almost as an afterthought—adds, “for a clone.”

Silence.

Your eyebrows shoot up, and as Rex stares at Krell in shock, you feel your armored chest tighten—with frustration or shock, you don’t yet know.

“Stand at attention when I address you,” Krell snaps, turning to face the other troopers, and as Rex obliges, you narrow your eyes and step forward.

“Master Krell,” you start, your jaw tightening, “I do believe it would be far more... prudent to show respect to the soldiers who have so graciously agreed to undertake this mission with us.” You tilt your head questioningly, sending your ponytail swaying. “After all—we are the ones who just arrived.”

A ripple of white-hot anger moves through the Force with lightning speed, but it’s gone before you can take time to process it. Now, all you can feel is something akin to gratitude, trickling like a cool waterfall from where Rex stands, back straight and eyes ahead.

“They agreed to nothing,” Krell counters, and you blink as his wide upper lip curls back to reveal a row of dangerously sharp teeth. “Do not forget, young one, that we are the Generals they serve under at present.”

“I...” you pause, momentarily at a loss for words, then clasp your hands behind your back and force your jaw to unclench. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I also haven’t forgotten that the only way to succeed in this endeavour is to work together.”

“And with what experience do you so kindly bestow this advice upon us, Knight Neridian?” Krell asks, and the question is like a bucket of ice water down the back of your robes.

You swallow, and search for the words to say, but none come. Cheeks burning with shame, you stare determinedly at the ground.

The tension in Krell’s Force signature disappears, as sudden as the crack of a whip, and he draws in a deep breath. You look up as the pouch-like piece of flesh under Krell’s chin grows in size and he begins to pace.

“Nevertheless,” Krell brushes off, acting as though none of your words register with him, “there’s a reason my command is so effective, and it’s because I do things by the book.” He walks past a soldier in an ARC Trooper uniform who has the number five tattooed on his right temple. The trooper doesn’t move as Krell passes him, but you can see a vein on his forehead bulge.

“And that includes protocol,” Krell puts in. He turns to you. “Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”

You bristle. “I—I thought we were to make decisions together,” you protest, raising your chin defiantly.

Technically, there’s nothing to defy, seeing as you hold equal rank with Krell—but the Council specified in their briefing that this was supposed to be a learning experience, an introduction to combat before receiving your own battalion. And something about Master Krell demands respect, or at the very least obedience, despite the fact that you’re starting to want to do everything you can not to give it to him.

Krell simply huffs and turns around, his yellow eyes flashing, and walks away, leaving you surrounded by a platoon troopers.

You frown after him. “Well, now I know why Master Venn wished me good luck,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Some of the troopers snicker, but you hardly notice.

Your former master, Esya Venn, had pulled you aside just before leaving. The look on her face had been nothing short of concerned, but you’d shrugged it off in the moment, even when she’d told you to be careful, Padawan. She never told anyone to be careful—it was simply a reflex to think twice about your actions around Esya.

But now you understand.

Scrubbing a hand over your tired face, you take a deep breath and turn to Captain Rex. “Shall we set off?” you ask, and he nods, promptly putting on his helmet.

“Move out, soldiers!” he shouts, starting down the path after Krell. “Come on, let’s go!”

You give Rex a grateful smile, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s returning it. With one last glance at the battalion, you hurry to the front and fall into step next to General Krell.

It’s silent for some time. Krell doesn’t deter, no matter how dark it gets, and after a while you begin to grow uncomfortable next to him. The anger you’d felt in the Force earlier is dormant, but certainly there, and it makes chills erupt down your spine.

"I’m going to check on the Captain,” you say, and Krell only nods when you turn around and quickly find Rex, who’s walking about two meters behind where you previously were.

The Captain salutes briefly. “General.”

“Captain,” you reply politely, before glancing back at Krell. “I can’t help but notice that there’s—” you pause for a moment. Do these troopers know enough about the Force to have conversations with you about it?

Knowing Anakin, you realize, they probably do, so you clear your throat and continue. “I get a strange feeling from Master Krell,” you say quietly.

Rex’s shoulders relax just slightly. “How so, sir?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I don’t know, exactly,” you reply, then gesture vaguely in front of you, where Krell is half-visible in the murky fog. “The Force around him is unclear. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain, as in it’s a Jedi thing?” Rex guesses, and you grin widely.

“Yes,” you say. “It’s a Jedi thing.” Reaching up, you curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I may not be a Jedi, sir,” Rex says after a moment, “but I think I know what you mean by strange feeling.”

“Quicken that pace, battalion!” Krell suddenly shouts over his shoulder, and you jump. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino.”

You sigh and raise your voice, turning to the troopers. “What General Krell means,” you call, pointedly shooting a glare at the Besalik’s back, “is that we must continue to make good time. Keep up the good work.”

Krell gives no answer, but you feel a ripple of frustration coming from his direction. There’s another thread in the Force, one of gratitude, but you can’t tell where exactly it’s coming from. You latch onto it nonetheless and file the feeling away for later, letting yourself make an easy pace just ahead of Rex.

“He certainly has a way with words,” you hear one of the clones say, and when you glance behind you out of the corner of your eye, you can see that the source is someone with similar armor to Rex’s. Another ARC, or someone of similar rank.

There’s a sigh. You think it’s from Rex. The troopers obviously don’t know you’re listening, so you direct your gaze ahead, keeping your pace steady.

“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex explains, voice hushed and sounding a bit sheepish.

"By raising everyone’s ire?” the other trooper grumbles.

“Either way, he’s in charge,” Rex protests. “And we’ve got a job to do.”

“She’s in charge, too,” hisses the trooper, and you purse your lips, knowing he’s pointing to you.

Another sigh, again from Rex. “Just—treat them both with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”

You’re about to turn around when your neck stiffens. It’s an instinctual reaction, like the Force tapping you on the shoulder—one that you’ve learned to interpret as a warning. Less than a second later, a loud screech echoes above your head.

“Ready your weapons!” Rex shouts, at the same moment you draw one lightsaber.

Faster than your eyes can process, a winged creature swoops down and grabs a trooper—but you don’t need your eyes. The cyan beam of your lightsaber casts a glow on the shadowy ground, and you jump upwards, landing on a large plant that allows you to swing from a vine and graze the blade across the wing of one of the creatures. It falls to the ground with another screech before flying away, relatively unharmed.

One to go.

You’re about to grab hold of a second vine and swing towards the other creature, but a flash of blurred blue and green makes you pull back—Krell beats you to it, landing on top of the creature and wrestling it to the ground.

“Wait—stop!” you shout as he draws his lightsabers, but it’s too late. He’s already skewered the creature mercilessly, and it lies dead on the ground, life blinking out of the Force in an instant.

You jump off of the large plant, landing on both feet, and hook your now deactivated lightsaber onto your belt. “Why did you kill it?” you demand, pushing past several onlooking clones.

“It is nothing more than a violent inhabitant of this area,” Krell dismisses, and you feel your jaw drop.

“But…” you start, at a loss for words. “The Code decrees—”

“The Code,” Krell says coldly as he turns to stare at you, “allows for self defense.”

You draw yourself up to your full height, switching off your lightsaber with a snap-hiss before hooking it back onto your belt. “That’s not what—”

Krell’s lightsabers deactivate loudly, cutting you off, and he returns them to either side of his belt before turning away and continuing on the path. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”

No one answers, but you feel your fists clench as if of their own accord.

This is going to be a long night.

Umbara’s plant life is fascinating. Observing the bioluminescent life forms is the only thing that serves a proper distraction from both the grumbling clone troopers and the pit of apprehension in your stomach. You’d been walking for twelve hours, give or take, and every time you’d tried to suggest a break to Krell, he’d snapped at you.

This can’t be allowed, you think bitterly, skipping over a glowing pink tree root, boots skidding on the dark purple ground.

You chew on your bottom lip and glance at the clones behind you. They are understandably worn out, and even with the extensive survival training Master Esya drilled into you as a Padawan, you were starting to get tired, too.

“Sir,” says a voice from behind you, and you jump, expecting in your exhaustion to see Krell—but it’s just Rex.

“We’ve been keeping this pace for almost half a rotation,” Rex points out, sounding vaguely nervous. “The men are... starting to tire. General Krell is...” he tilts his head, expressionless visor unreadable. “You know.”

You muster a smile, hoping you look at least a little like Master Enya, and nod.

“I know, Captain,” you say, and he shifts slightly, as though his blue-painted pauldron is uncomfortable. You can’t blame him. Running a hand over your ponytail, you blow out a breath and frown at the puff of air that appears in front of you. “Let me talk to him. Tell the men to start searching for a good spot to camp for a few hours.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Rex giving an affirmative thumbs up to the troopers behind him, but by then you’re already approaching Krell, clasping your hands tightly behind your back.

“Master Krell,” you start, and Krell turns his head just a bit. “I’ve told the men to scout for a place to rest. I reviewed the mission plan on the way here, and we can spare three hours without being delayed, possibly more—”

“The men don’t need rest,” Krell interrupts, and you feel your cheeks flush with anger. “They need resolve to complete the task at hand.”

“Apologies, Master,” you say, squaring your shoulders as frustration heats your neck and face. You breathe deeply. There is no emotion, only peace. “But I don’t think the men will be on their best game when we reach the capital if they don’t take some time to gather themselves.”

“That they need to ‘gather themselves’ is a sign of weakness,” Krell cuts in, stopping and turning to face you with a sneer. “That is not what these clones were bred for.”

Not far away, many of the soldiers bristle at Krell’s choice of words, but you keep your focus on the yellow eyes staring you down for the second time that night.

“They weren’t bred to be mindless droids, either,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest and making sure to keep your voice even. “And in case you’ve forgotten, even battle droids need to recharge. If we march on the Capital without any sort of break first, I promise you, this mission will not go as planned. Exhausted and underfed soldiers are a guaranteed disadvantage.”

Krell studies you, a sneer forming on his lips. “I see you take after your Master’s incessant need to get the last word on anyone she disagrees with.”

You scowl. “I beg your pardon, but Master Venn is—”

He ignores you, cutting past where you stand and walking away. “Do what you wish, Neridian,” he dismisses, then walks away to stand by a glowing tree.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you close your eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder not to snap at him—but you know what the Order’s teachings require of you. Emotion, yet peace.

You grimace as Krell retreats to the back of the line, then turn back to the troopers nearby and give Rex a nod. The captain returns it in what you hope is a grateful manner, then calls for the men to make camp at the top of the ridge your group has been climbing.

By the time you gather all the troopers together, the battalion has put together a hasty campsite, with half the troopers having fallen into a fitful sleep and the other half keeping watch while eating as many rations as the limit allows. You frown and approach the trooper you heard Rex talking to earlier, his Force signature familiar from when you were eavesdropping. His helmet is now sitting in his lap, being meticulously cleaned with what little supplies the battalion has on hand.

You study the soldier. He has a tattoo on his right temple, and upon studying it, you realize it’s the same ARC trooper who’d been glaring at Krell when you stepped off the gunship. You wonder what significance the number five has to him.

Taking another step forward, you clear your throat. “Trooper,” you begin, and the soldier looks up curiously before abruptly shooting to his feet and snapping off a salute. You wave a nonchalant hand. “No need for that. I only wanted to ask a favor—can you gather troopers to stand watch? Six at a time, tops, and make sure they take turns so everyone can rest. That includes you.”

“You got it, sir,” says the trooper, and you smile.

“Sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name...” you say, then, and the trooper blinks.

“Oh, uh—it’s Fives, sir.”

“I see,” you reply, gaze flickering to his tattoo and back again. “Thank you, Fives.”

You retreat to your own tent soon after, shrugging off your vambraces and arranging them neatly next to your bedroll. This wouldn’t be the shortest sleep cycle you’d had, what with the nature of your apprenticeship at the temple—but not the longest, either.

From what you can hear inside your tent, the camp is silent. Slowly, you poke your head through the canvas flaps to find exactly six men—as you’d requested—sitting in the center of camp. Farther away, at the outskirts of the circle of tents, sits Master Krell’s hulking form. In spite of yourself, you frown.

“General?” asks a sudden voice above you; letting out an involuntary yelp, you scramble backwards before stopping at the sight of Rex standing near the entrance to your tent.

Embarrassed, you stand up, brushing off your cream-coloured robes. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I could swear I’m not usually so jumpy, I don’t know what—” you look up and stop short.

Rex has removed his helmet.

His blond hair isn’t a surprise this time around, but close up, you’re struck by how tired he looks. There are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but his face is cast in exhausted shadows.

You wonder if a full night’s sleep is something he’s ever had, or if the training regiments on Kamino prepared him and his brothers for this kind of halfhearted sleep cycle. Curiously, you study him.

Rex’s eyes are golden-brown in the dying light of this shadowy planet. They’re the same shade as all the troopers in the immediate vicinity. And yet, as you stare into them, something in you stirs as your Force signature brushes against his—something you know you’re not supposed to feel.

“Er, General,” Rex repeats, jolting you from your faraway thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know—the scouts are detecting a clear journey from here on out. We have approximately four hours to kick back, as predicted.”

Hurriedly, you turn away and clear your throat awkwardly. “Very good, Captain,” you mumble. “Thank you. You’re—erm, free to go and rest.”

For a moment, Rex looks surprised, but he composes himself seconds later. “Thank you, General,” he says. “But I—”

“Not up for debate,” you interrupt, holding your hand up. Bemused, Rex blinks, so you shoot him a reassuring smile. “You said it yourself: the soldiers need rest. You’re a soldier, yes?”

Rex opens his mouth, probably to say something about him being a Captain, but you lower your hand to rest it on his shoulder. The kind gesture seems to quell him, so you continue. “Don’t exclude yourself in that. Rest well, Captain.”

When you turn and reenter your tent, you don’t catch the way Rex’s eyes linger on the closed flap for far longer than they should, heat prickling up his neck as the remnant of your touch burns itself through his pauldron.

“You too… General.”

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SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. ��💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[kometqh]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 Your first kiss with Rex, when the two of you were young and hopeful, and your last one, where he wished for nothing more than to protect you, to be by your side until your very last breath. Word Count: 5389 Warnings: Minor swearing (?), sad Rex, creepy man alert. A/N: I'm not proud of or satisfied with the first half, but I needed to pour my Rex love out into words <3

The first time you and Rex shared a kiss, it was.. Sudden. It was thrilling. It was indescribable, really.

It had blood rushing to your cheeks in spurs, heat spreading throughout your body as his fingers gripped bruises onto your hips, his lips hot and soft against your own, trapping you between his broad shoulders and an old, sticky counter.

The two of you had been sent on a mission, a Jedi and a Clone Captain. Hand in hand, the two of you played a newly married couple as you had been tasked by the Jedi Council. At first, you had no objections, but when you realised it meant the two of you would be fully and wholly alone, your hands began to tremble, your heart began to rattle and all your resolve seemed to crumble.

Sure, you were solid in your beliefs, and that included ignoring your ever-growing crush on the blonde, tan-skinned, honey eyed Captain of the 501st. 

But with more convincing, General Skywalker and Kenobi had managed to get you to agree, and soon the two of you were shipped off to a supposedly Neutral planet, where your bounty hunter had taken cover from the GAR's watchful eyes.

The air on this planet was nothing short of stuffy, particles clinging to your lungs like thick lumps of goo. The streets were nothing but grime, sweat and dirt as your eyes scanned the place. There were potholes in the roads, small crowds of traders and sellers and horse-riders, as well as the occasional trios of smokers that hung outside bars. The streetlights were the only source of light, the planet's moons having been hidden away behind a thick, lingering swarm of clouds.

Rex could feel your shoulders stiffening, and on instinct he had pulled you closer. According to the coordinates provided by General Kenobi, the bounty hunters' hideout was just a mere few-minute walk away from your current position, and so, the two of you made your way there. 

Numerous stall owners had attempted to steal your attention away, offering glamorous jewels and accessories and flashy trinkets, but were quickly shut up and dismissed by one hard glare from Rex, his fingers finding solace on your shoulder, keeping you protectively close.

He himself wasn't all too willing to embark onto this mission, but an order was an order, no matter how hard General Skywalker attempted to mask it as a request, as a choice.

And now, having you this close, Rex was almost forced to question all the rules and regulations that the longnecks and the Council and the Republic had imposed, had implanted into the clones, onto himself. With your scent invading his senses, with your warmth being shared between the two of you, Rex wasn't so sure if he was willing to stay single for the rest of his life.

Not when your nimble fingers latched themselves around his biceps like soft snares, caressing and squeezing the flesh, feeling the sturdy muscle beneath. He could feel goose bumps rise across his arms and shoulders, as your touch set off fiery sparks on his skin, as your gaze melted away his cold exterior.

As he glanced down at you, his chest tightened, seeing the way the orange lights warmed up your face, created a warm glow, made you look prettier, enhanced your features. A hint of a shadow danced across your cheekbones from under your lashes, microscopic freckles scattered across like stars in the night sky. Maybe, just maybe, one day the two of you would live in a Republic where he could, where he would, confess his adoration for you. 

But he saw no such thing happening anytime soon.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud, irritating whistle caught his attention, and you came to a slow halt.

"Whatcha got there, lad? You sellin'?" A scratchy voice had asked, and Rex's eyes narrowed as he noticed a Weequay pirate had made his way over to them, his eyes scanning you up and down, hunger swirling in his thin, cat-like irises. A smirk tugged at his awfully chapped lips, and his right hand was perched on his hip, settling just above his blaster.

A weak gasp left your lips as Rex half-shielded your body from view, and if you hadn't been pushed behind him, maybe your heart would have pumped faster at the sight of his frown.

"Can't you see she's taken, lad?" Rex asked, his voice loud and sturdy as he glared at the man. You didn't have your lightsabers on you, nor could you fight off the pirate whilst undercover.

"Woah woah, calm down my friend, I was merely asking." The pirate stated, a frown appearing on his face as he looked between your seemingly spooked figure and Rex's ready-to-fight stance.

Looking up at Rex, you tugged on his hand, silently pleading to keep moving. Your lightsaber was safely stored away in Rex's backpack, and it meant you couldn't have acted as swiftly as you would of if it had instead been attached to your hip.

With a groan, Rex shoo his head, puffing his chest out like a proud lion. "She is not for sale, she's with me, she's my wife, and you, you better keep your grubby paws and eyes off her." Rex growled out, his chest rumbling with a newfound dominance.

"Or else-"

"Rex.." You whispered, one handlightly tugging his shoulder, "It's okay. Let's keep going." You insisted, snaking your hand along the side of his neck to cup his jaw. His gaze softened at the sight of you, and with a small nod of his head, the two of you moved away, Rex bumping into the pirate's shoulder with more than enough force to knock him to the ground.

The two of you walked in a semi-comfortable silence, not exchanging any words, and you preferred that. If you had to speak now, you were worried you'd stumble over your words and start blushing like a teenager. He was so effortlessly kind, so thoughtful, so sweet. 

What would you do without your favourite Captain? 

Probably sink into the earth or something.

Looking up, a small smile appeared on your lips; the clouds were scattering away under the wind currents, and the twin moons were beginning to peak out from under their cover. A cool, blue light engulfed the two of you, mixing with the war orange glow from the street stands, and your breath was caught in your throat as you looked up to Rex. 

His honey eyes reflected the purple mix, darkening under it as he stared ahead, occasionally glancing at his holopad. There was a familiar crease settled between his brows, crows feet crinkling at the outer corners of his eyes as his expression screamed 'Focused!', his gloved hand warm against the bare skin on your bicep.

His stubble, which he usually kept cleanly shaven, was now beginning to grow back, giving him a more mature, yet tired look. Your fingers itched to just caress his face, to feel those short, spiky hairs against your palm, to make him feel at ease under your touch.

He glanced to the side, his eyes widening as the two of you made instant eye contact, but a soft smirk appeared when he noticed you hurriedly looking away, anywhere but him.

He definitely liked to see you flustered.

After a short while, the two of you came to a stop in front of a small staircase, a few lingering figures smoking, and tall, dark brown doors that led to the inside of the club. 

The figures scoffed at the sight of you, muttering something about being 'rich' or too 'formal', but you paid them no mind as Rex placed his palm on the small of your back, glancing sideways as he ushered you forward.

As the doors opened, your senses were flooded with the smell and feel of thick smoke, choking you from the inside-out more so than the air outside. Loud music pumped through hidden speakers, and a swarm of bodies was tangled up on the dance floor, moving in rhythmic beats, flashing lights and singing making the room feel stuffy, and much smaller than it really was.

There was sweat on the walls, different coloured lights basking the otherwise dark space in all shades of the rainbow. 

Quickly, you took a hold of Rex's bicep, stuttering in your steps as you looked to him for guidance, and the male felt a surge of pride sprouting in his chest, knowing that you trusted him enough to seek protection from him. 

Without a second thought, he lead you to the bar, ordering the two of you drinks strong enough to survive the clamminess of the place.

Then, the two of you found seats at a faraway booth, sitting close enough for your arms to touch. You took an awkward sip of your drink, a horrible bitterness hammering your tongue, a shiver going down your spine as the liquid burned the back of your throat.

"What was this called again, Rex? Beer?" You semi-shouted over the loud music, your lips just inches away from touching his ear.

Without a thought, Rex turned his face to you, towering lightly over you as you leaned against his shoulder. Your eyes widened, a soft gasp parting your lips. His own eyes looked over yours, a smirk on his lips.

"Yeah, it's called beer, mesh'la. Why? D'you not like it?" He asked, nudging his chin to point at the glass. He watched as you chewed on your bottom lip, suppressing the grimace that fought to make its way onto your face. 

He never really saw you be so expressive around anyone else, not even around General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Was he an exception? He had waited to spend one-on-one time with you for so long, always being stuck by Skywalker's side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and Rex couldn't stop himself from putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer. The gasp that escaped your lips was luckily covered by the loud booming of the music, and the flush on your face was somewhat masked by the bouncing lights, or so you hoped. 

Rex's breath fanned over the top of your head, his hand tracing circles into your skin, though his eyes remained observant, scanning the room, as he took another sip of his own drink. 

You looked back to your own drink, a scowl forming on your face as you cringed at the thought of having to finish it. But, a plan formed in your mind. The two of you were supposed to be playing a couple in love, right?

Why not.. spice things up a little?

Without a second thought, you turned to Rex.

"If you drink that whole glass in ten seconds, the rest of the drinks will be on me tonight." Your voice was loud, your lungs straining to produce sound over the music, but it seemed to work as Rex thought about your offer, taking a moment to reply.

"And I get to choose?" He asked, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear. 

With an eager nod, you watched Rex sigh defeatedly, reaching over for your glass. 

"But you better be fair, or else." He winked at you, and neared the glass to his lips. His brothers often engaged in games like this, making bets or starting competitions, their favourite being 'How to get Fives drunk the fastest' or 'How to make Fives strip tease for the civvies'. 

He himself never got drunk, only somewhat tipsy, so it would definitely be a new experience for him. 

Drinking with you by his side, without the peering eyes of his brothers or the Republic. Here, it was just him and you.

"On the count of one," You begun, a grin growing on your lips as Rex readied himself, "Three.." His posture straightened up, his gaze daring you, "Two.." His grip on the glass tightened, and you felt yourself swallowing a growing lump, looking up at Rex through a thick curtain of lashes, lips parted, "One!"

With that, you began counting down, swallowing thickly as you watched Rex tilt the glass, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every gulp he took. You almost considered speeding up your counting, as in five seconds he was done with half of the glass.

A laugh escaped you as some of the beer began to spill down his chin, rolling in thick beads down his neck. At that point, he won. Your attention was completely focused on his neck, eyes glazing over him eagerly, and you wondered what it would be like to trace the column of his neck, to lick the alcohol off of his neck, would he like that? What would he sound like?

"Done!" Rex's exclamation startled you, the bang of the glass against the table effectively making you jump out of your skin. 

A loud laugh echoed, and as you looked up, Rex was just wiping his lips.

"Now, you owe me a drink," He said, taking a hold of your chin as he cheekily smiled, "Or a couple." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and rested back against the booth seat.

With a roll of your eyes, you got up from your seat and made your way towards the bar.

"Five shots of Spotchka for me mesh'la!" He shouted after you, and a laugh escaped your lips. As you ordered the drinks, a giddy smile tugged at your lips. Who would have thought that the two of you could share such a normal, such an ordinary day together? Especially at a bar like this of all places? Not even in your wildest dreams would you have imagined Rex and you playing a couple, clinging onto each other like koalas, or sharing drinks like this.

Never would you have imagined you would get the chance to be close to Rex like this, maybe if one of you were carrying the other off a battlefield, but that's it really.

You were one lucky-

"You alone miss?" Someone spoke lowly into your ear, a foreign hand caressing the small of your back. 

"What the-" You turned around, shaking away from their touch. "Who are you?" You asked, one eyebrow quirked as you looked the man up and down. He was definitely a local, dressed in dark brown trousers and khaki coloured shirt, his face looked worn, wrinkles scattered all over, his beard outgrowing a stubble and his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarrettes.

His eyes though, they were sullen and fighting against his will to stay awake and upright, they showed an exhausted man, a vexed man, a dangerous man. You knew that without your lightsaber you'd be completely and utterly screwed, but maybe you could talk your way out of this?

"I've been looking for some.. fresh meat," He paused, licking his lips as he looked you up and down, expectantly. His breath stank, and you had to fight really hard not to let your disgust show. "You looked a bit lonely, y'know.." He continued, and you felt a shiver run up your spine as he reached a hand to caress your shoulder.

Thinking back to how Rex was probably waiting for you, you felt a sense of comfort; he'd come if you took too long.

"Well actually I-I'm with someone-" You tried to reason, but the man shut you up with a sharp glare and a sloppy shake of his head. 

"No no, sweetheart, I think you misunderstood me," He growled out, voice rumbling in your ears, "You're coming with me." 

His rough hand felt like sand paper to your skin, unlike Rex's gentle, careful fingers that worked their way to yours, held you with so much care. 

His shirt slouched over his bony form, and you could see sweat staining the material. 

"Sir, I would advise you to let go of me or-"

"Or what? What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Scream? Kick?" He taunted, trapping your body between his own and the bar. Why was no one batting an eye at this? Was everyone so horribly drunk? Where was Rex?

You shook your head, pushing at his chest. 

"Just let go of me you creep." You hissed, freeing yourself from his grasps. A scowl overtook his features, a red light shining directly onto his face. What the hell? Why was he so stubborn on taking you away? 

Just as his lips parted, his small frame was roughly shoved to the side, and you paused in your tracks as something soft, something warm crashed against your lips. 

Large hands held your hips in place as his lips melted against yours, pushing against you, body flush against your own. Your eyes snapped open, but closed once more when you realised who it was. 

Your arms snaked around his neck, nails grazing against his scalp as you reciprocated this welcomed feeling. Your breaths mingled together, his tongue poking out to lick at your bottom lip, wordlessly asking for permission.

Granting it, your tongues swirled together, and he hummed in approval as his hips pushed you further into the counter, the wood digging painfully into the skin and bones. His body towered over yours as the two of you kissed, completely lost in each other's warm embrace, completely forgetting about the creep that had now moved away, shaking his head and muttering disgruntled 'Okay I get it's'.

As Rex slowly pulled away, you found yourself chasing his lips, almost whining at the loss of warmth. But a small smile tugged at your lips as you looked into his eyes, noticing how glazed over his irises were, how softly he looked at you, as if you were his precious treasure, his whole world, his universe. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that for, mesh'la." He mumbled as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttered close with a content smile on his face.

A soft huff escaped through your nose, and you softly nodded, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Me too, Captain, me too."

The last time you and Rex kissed, it was passionate, it was hopeful, it was precious.

There was a spare hour before you and your squadron were to depart for another search-and-rescue mission, off to a rather politically-influential planet, busy with preparing your ships, guns, provisions, belongings and, most of all, your goodbyes. You were confident that the mission would be a successful one, after all, how hard was it to find a missing princess?

However, the creases etched onto Rex's features had your chest tightening, had you gnawing on the inside of your cheek, had you fiddling with your fingers. That familiar scrunch of his eyebrows, whenever he was anxious, was present, crow's feet dancing at the outer corners of his eyes. 

He kept his hands grasped together behind his back as he paced the hallway outside your room in circles, muttering and mumbling under his nose with hushed breaths.

The apples of his cheeks that were normally so full and chubby, were now sullen and drained of their usual roundness, the familiar bright glint in his starry eyes you loved so much, suddenly replaced by a dark, dusky chill. 

As the door to your room slid open, Rex had lifted his head, golden puppy eyes widened, relief flooding his features. His pacing had come to a slow stop as he peered at you, breathless. 

A sigh escaped your lips, the muscles in your throat tensing, your shoulders stiffening.

"Rex..? What's-" He was quick to interrupt your words, grasping your shoulders in a gentle hold as he pushed you back inside your quarters, the doors shutting behind him with a gentle whizz and thud. 

"Mesh'la.. You can't go." As the words left his lips, your heart squeezed, like a wet rug being drained of water. It twisted and pulled, tugging at the heartstrings until they were ready to burst. Where was this coming from, why was he so worried? It was only going to be a simple mission. The corners of your lips tugged downwards in a frown, suddenly gaining on a new weight to them that hadn't been there before. 

Your hands came up to hold his face, smoothing out the lines that had scattered across. 

"Rex, what's gotten into you? What's wrong?" You asked, your voice merely a hushed whisper as you neared your face to his. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed harshly, nervously. His eyes searched yours, the first hint of tears surfacing. 

His hold against you was tight, yet so full of love and care. One of his hands had slid up to cradle the side of your face, the pad of his thumb gently caressing the soft skin underneath, his warmth radiating onto you like a heavy blanket. His scent, the scent of fresh aftershave and gunpowder, was invading your senses, binding you completely useless under the spell of your lover.

With a shaky exhale, his eyes fluttered closed, crows feet tugging at the corners before he opened them back up, his feelings hidden behind an array of lusciously thick lashes and a steel-hard facade.

"That thing.. What Fives said b-before he- before he died," He paused, his gaze dropping down to the floor, his shoulders stuttering under the shakiness of his breaths, "About the chips. What if it's true?"

At that, your lips merged into a fine line, your hold on his face losening just the slightest. 

"Rex, look at me," You spoke, lifting his chin with the tips of your fingers, soft stubble brushing against the pads, "Do you truly believe in what he said?" You questioned, searching his eyes for something, for a clue. If this worried him so much, then why did he keep it hidden from you until now? Did he hear something he shouldn't have? Did he see something that confirmed what Fives had said?

"I didn't see or hear anything, if that's what you're thinking, mesh'la," His quiet voice just barely reached your ears, the gravelly hum grazing against the shells of your ears, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, and you wouldn't have heard his hushed whisper if you weren't leaning in so close, "But General Skywalker.. he- he hasn't been the same since Ahsoka left the order, he's been more unnerved, more reckless, more irrational and he's putting my squadron, my men, my brothers in danger, kriff, even you!" He exclaimed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. His stomach twisted and turned, bile readily rising, burning, in his throat as he realised what he had just said. 

If this was anyone but you, he was sure to be court martialed, accused of treason or desserting the army, or conspiring, even. But this wasn't just anyone, this wasn't General Kenobi or Master Windu; this was you. His General, his friend, his comfort, his love.

Surely, you'd understand where he was coming from. 

You had allowed him a short respite, pulling him into your embrace as the tears had begun to spill over. One hand caressing his hair, the other rubbed comforting circles into the tense muscles on his back. He wasn't wearing his armour, for some weird enough reason, though you could inquire about that later. 

For now, Rex's wellbeing was your priority.

Your lips gently brushed against his ear as you spoke, your voice smooth and soft, like velvet, barely rising above a whisper. "Rex, we both know, forming attachments, relationships, is strictly forbidden.. But, has that ever stopped anyone? It certainly hasn't stopped me or you, so it definitely hasn't stopped General Skywalker," You paused, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his sickeningly sweet scent, "Ahsoka was like a daughter to him, Rex, a little sister to you. He's going through the same pain as you, but multiply that by two." You whispered, feeling Rex's silent tears ease into light, stuttering breaths, his gloved hands grasping tightly onto your robes.

The distant hum of active machinery and faraway footsteps filled the silence between the two of you, bouncing off the iron-hard walls, drowning out the sound of your breathing, masking the sound of Rex's gentle, feather-light tears and sobs. 

He had been through far too much in his short life, he had seen too much, heard, experienced more than enough. The numerous, countless deaths of his brothers, each dying on a cursed battlefield, sacrificing their lives dying for a cause that did little to care for them. The disappearance of Echo, the death of Hardcase, the death of Fives. All men who had been by his side for so, so many years. 

And then, General Tano leaving the Jedi order. 

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

He could no longer force and tie down that sense of fear, that sense of insecurity which twisted at his heartstrings, constricting painfully each time a new terror occurred. It squeezed at his lungs, suffocating him, dragging him down like a boulder tied to one of the many seas found on Kamino. 

Kamino. 

His.. home?

The longnecks never did care for the Clones, all they were to them was a moneygrab. An expensive one, at that. Who knew when the Republic would run out of money to produce more clones? Who knew when they would get tired of the many fruitless battles they so bravely fought? Who knew?

Those questions plagued Rex's mind like a stalkish nightmare, always there, hiding away in the deepest corners of his mind, creeping in every time he'd let his eyelids flutter closed.

But then, there was a light.

A golden, brightly burning flame, offered by an extended hand. 

It came in the form of your touch. 

Anytime you'd touch his shoulder, graze the soft skin of your palm along his jaw, place feather-light kisses against his nape, Rex could feel the tightness-

No. 

He could feel the fear that clawedat his chest slowly dissipate away. Inch by inch, the feeling of your skin against his, the sound of your voice dripping like honey, the warmth that radiated off of you like the sun, it washed the sticky, oozing black substance away in waves, it purged the darkness that tried to taint his heart and mind, his resolve and his beliefs.

His breathing had slowly come to a still, the trembling that had travelled throughout his body had eventually ceased, allowing the two of you to sit in a comfortable, peaceful silence. 

His fingers caressed the soft material of your shirt, tracing each slight bump of bone within the curve of your spine, his heart swelling with adoration at every soft exhale and chuckle that escaped your chest at his ministrations.

With you hidden away in his arms, away from harm's way, Rex began to feel at peace again. 

But that's just what you did; you put anyone and everyone at ease. You just had that effect. 

He didn't know if it was something to do with your force-sensitivity, or if it was just a personality trait. He wasn't about to complain though.

The tip of his nose gently nudged against the top of your head, slowly, taking note of the change in the scent. The corners of his lips nudged slightly upwards, crows feet tugging at the corners of his tired eyes.

"New shampoo?" He asked, his voice low and raspyed as he continued inhaling your scent.

Underneath him, he felt vibrations, your shoulders shaking as you snickered in his arms, the air escaping your lungs in short, joyful tufts.

"Yeah, I was getting fed up of the one provided by the Republic. It's peach scented, d'you like it?" You had asked, tilting your head upwards to catch a glimpse of his honey-glazed eyes. As he looked at you, he couldn't help the rapid rattling of his heart, warmth flooding his chest at the sight of you.

Your face tilted upwards, hands grasping his biceps, lone tufts of hair framing your face, the smug smile on your face as you looked up at him with those beautiful, glassy irises. It was like you were his own personal sunshine, small enough for him to cradle you within his clutches, tuck you away into his pocket, keep you by his side during combat.

Warm enough to chip away at the foul insecurities and fears that clogged his mind during his every waking moment. 

His gaze flickered to your lips, and Rex sucked in a sharp breath as he noticed you nibbling lightly on your bottom lip, a shadow cast onto your cheekbones through a row of long, luscious lashes. 

Neither of you said a word as Rex's hand cradled the side of your face, closing the short gap between the two of you. You closed your eyes, a joyful huff escaping your chest as his lips collided with yours in a passionate, slow exchange. 

His fingers caressed your skin with such care, with such gentleness, with such love, it made your heart beat faster and your blood burn hot with adoration. They swept down from the top of your cheekbone, along the shell of your ear, and finally found their place on your jawbone, his pinky settling for caressing small, short strokes along your jaw and the top of your neck. His other hand came up to do the same, pulling you closer than was thought to be humanly possible.

His breath fanned over your face, and his scent flooded your nostrils, soft vanilla mixed with his natural musky scent. 

It invaded your senses, engulfing you like a chilly summer afternoon on one of your rare days off, like the warm summer rain that soaked your clothes, tugged at the tips of your hair, like the warm rays of sun that peaked through the windows as you slept, summoning you to wake up, to feel alive, to feel loved.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your tongue brushing against Rex's bottom lip. You felt his shoulders shake under the heaviness of your palms, and it was soon followed by a soft chuckle as his hands tilted your head, angling it to provide him better access to your body, your lips, your soul. 

Your lips melting together, your heart swells with admiration and love for your soldier, and for a moment a fleeting thought wedges itself inside your mind; you and Rex. You and Rex and small children, a tall farmhouse sat behind your figures as the children splash around in a shallow pond, their joyful screams and shouts bringing a smile to your face as you and Rex relax further back, his arm cradling you close to his body.

But that thought is gone as fast as it came, a ghost of your past wishes and longings. But maybe, just maybe once the war ended, the two of you would be able to achieve such a future. Afterall, where there is love, there is hope, and where there is hope, there is life, right?

The two of you are interrupted as your intercom goes off, signaling for your attention. The incessant beeping is loud and repetitive, enough to cause a tension headache in you. 

Slowly, you began to pull away, your eyes fluttering open once more, your lips stinging as the cold air of your room replaced the warm plush of Rex's lips. You swallowed hard, releasing a short breath as you looked up into his golden eyes again, a pained expression settled in them again.

"Rex.. It's time for me to go," You whispered, bringing your hand up to caress his face as the man pulled you close, his fingers fiddling with the material of your shirt. He burried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time, "I will contact you as soon as we land, or if anything happens, okay?" You asked, nudging his forehead with yours.

As he lifted his head, Rex felt that same fear overcome him again, tearing away at his heart, choking him up in an iron-tight hold.

"You better update me on everything, and I mean everything, do you understand?" He asked, his gaze hardening and his eyebrows furrowing as he maintained steady eye contact, conveying his worry for you. 

With a small nod of your head, you rose from the bed, whispering a soft 'I love you' before you gave him one last kiss, your touch leaving burning trails on his skin as the doors quietly slid shut behind your retreating figure, looking back at Rex one last time, committing the sight of him to your memory, your voice reaching his ears as you answered your intercom. 

His gaze remained on the doors, and Rex heaved a long, deep sigh.

"Get a hold of yourself, Rex, she's gonna be back."

But were you?

[weevil-wallflower]

A Jedi & A Droid

Cal Kestis x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Your life was never the same after You stumbled upon another Jedi and a droid.

Warnings/Tags: No warnings, SFW, hurt/comfort, minor angst, fluff, mutual pining, no use of Y/N, no pronouns used, pre/during Jedi: Survivor, minor spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: My third entry for Cal Kestis Week 2024! Prompts: Day 3 - Droid & Day 4 - "We shouldn't be doing this".

I am so late but responsibilities called! Also, this story, initially meant to be simple, got wayyy out of hand and turned into a combination of little snippets. So a bit of a wordy one but I am so happy to finally write this, as the idea had been sitting in my drafts for so long plus I really enjoyed writing it! I think this is one of my best stories yet :3 Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~6,800

After the crew of the Mantis had split apart, Cal found himself adrift in the galaxy with only BD-1 by his side, spending years drifting between missions and without a crew—a family. While working for Saw Gerrera, he had formed strong friendships with fellow rebels; Gabs, the Klatooinian twins Koob and Lizz, and Bravo. However, it never felt quite the same. He longed for the camaraderie and companionship he had once known, yearning for a friend, a family and perhaps even a partner, to share in their journey’s hardships and victories.

Then, one fateful day, while Cal and BD-1 were navigating through a crowded spaceport, they came across You—running desperately from a squad of unrelenting stormtroopers. Cal's sharp senses detected the hurry in your movements and the terror in your expression as You ran through the packed streets, desperately trying to evade capture.

Without hesitation, Cal leapt into action, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he made his way through the chaotic crowds, dodging blaster fire and weaving through narrow alleyways in pursuit of You. Out of breath, he finally caught up to You, halting You in your tracks and reached out a hand to offer his help.

“Come with us!” The redhead urged, his voice firm yet reassuring as he glanced back at the approaching stormtroopers. “We have a ship. We can help you escape.”

Despite the opportunity presented before You, You hesitated, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty as You weight your options.

“I’m not getting in a stranger’s ship!” You protested, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Cal’s gaze softened, understanding the gravity of your situation as he met your gaze with unwavering determination.

“You have a better idea?” He asked, his tone gentle yet firm as he kept his hand extended towards You.

You still appeared hesitant but the thunderous footsteps of the approaching stormtroopers and the urgent “Beep-bo-beep!” from the droid perched on the redhead’s back sealed the deal, making You choose the lesser of two evils. With a slight nod, You reached out to take the redhead’s hand, feeling a sense of trust and reassurance wash over You like a wave. Was it the Force trying to tell You something? You had no time to dwell on it, however, as Cal led You to his ship.

As the three of you boarded the Mantis, Cal’s eyes widened with excitement when they fell on the lightsaber strapped to your side, realisation dawning on him.

“You’re a Jedi!” He exclaimed, surprise apparent in his voice. “That’s why those Imps were after you.”

The knowledge brought him some hope, knowing that he had finally found another Jedi besides Cere, after all these years.

You simply nodded and hesitantly took the offered co-pilot seat as the ship soared through the vast outer space. You were unable to shake the feeling of apprehension that gripped You. The knowledge that Cal now knew You were a Jedi filled You with a sense of unease, knowing all too well the dangers that come with being hunted throughout the Galaxy. The thought of bounty hunters and Imperial forces closing in on You sent a shiver down your spine, and You couldn’t help but wonder if trusting Cal was a mistake.

However, as You stole a glance at him while he piloted the ship, You noticed something that caught You off guard—a lightsaber attached to his belt, just like yours. Your eyes widened in surprise as You turned to face him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you… are you also a Jedi?” You asked, your voice full of uncertainty.

Cal’s face lit up with a smile, his green eyes sparkling with excitement and happiness.

“Yes, I am!” He exclaimed, voice full of joy. “I can’t believe I’ve finally found another Jedi!”

“Me too…” You whispered as the revelation sent a wave of relief washing over You. And sure enough, You felt his Force signature resonate around You, feeling his resilience, determination and a strong connection to the Light Side of the Force. However, while the signature carried traces of sorrow and grief, You were surprised by how warm and comforting it felt, enveloping You like a protective blanket. You were unable to remember the last time You felt someone’s Force signature—much less one as soothing. The feeling replaced your earlier apprehension with a sense of solidarity and companionship, relieved to know that You were not alone.

However, it still took time for You to feel comfortable around Cal, despite his warm demeanor and infectious enthusiasm. But slowly over time, You found yourself gradually opening up to the redhead, sharing stories of your past and your hopes for the future. Yet, a lingering sense of caution remained, a barrier that felt insurmountable at times.

But BD-1, Cal’s loyal droid friend, proved to be a source of comfort and solace during those moments of uncertainty. Seeing how happy Cal was once more, all because of your presence on board, BD-1 went out of his way to make You feel welcome with his cheerful chirps and friendly demeanour, offering You small gifts and gestures of kindness that never failed to bring a smile to your face.

And as You watched the little droid trot around the ship, trilling with excitement, You couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him. His efforts to make You feel comfortable and at ease did not go unnoticed, and You found yourself growing fond of BD-1 in return.

Cal, too, noticed the bond that was forming between the both of you, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his droid friend bringing joy and laughter into your life like he did for him. Seeing You happy lifted Cal’s spirits in ways he couldn’t fully explain, and he found himself opening up to You even more, sharing his hopes and fears with a newfound sense of trust and vulnerability.

Overall, BD-1’s efforts to make You feel comfortable and welcome were essential in helping You overcome your initial apprehension and form strong bonds of friendship with Cal and the droid. There were numerous instances which contributed to strengthening your bond with both of them.

One day, Cal and BD-1 ventured out on a mission while You agreed to stay behind on the Mantis to look after it and to provide backup support if needed. But when the duo failed to return when they should have, a sense of worry began to settle deep in your mind. Especially when You were unable to contact them via the comms. Time appeared to stretch on endlessly as You waited for their return, each minute that passed only made your concern grow. Feeling restless, You paced the length of the ship, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as You anxiously awaited their safe return.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, just when You contemplated going out to search for them, You heard footsteps and beeping sounds. You quickly rushed down the ramp to be greeted by the sight of Cal, looking a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed. Your worries melted away in an instant as You ran over to greet him.

“Cal, you’re back!” You exclaimed, relief evident in your voice.

The redhead grinned wearily, his expression softened by your sight. “Hey…” He greeted, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Sorry for the delay. We ran into a bit of trouble out there.”

Before You could respond, BD-1 chirped excitedly, leaping down from Cal's back and presented You with a tiny gift he ejected from his stim dispenser. With a delighted giggle, You accepted the gift, a simple trinket made from scavenged materials—a token of BD-1's affection and friendship.

As You thanked the little droid for the thoughtful gesture, Cal couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before him.

"Well, it looks like BeeDee gets all the attention," he quipped, his tone light-hearted as he approached you. "No warm welcome for a valiant hero like me, huh?"

You grinned at his playful remark, thankful that despite the dangers they faced on their mission, Cal and BD-1 had returned safely, and that was all that mattered in the end.

As you all walked back inside the Mantis together, Cal's arm draped casually over your shoulder, You couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over You. And when BD-1 chirped happily beside You, You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together as a team.

Another day, You remember sitting alone in the quiet solitude of your quarters at the back of the Mantis. With the weight of loneliness and longing pressing heavy on your heart, You couldn't help but feel the ache of missing your long-gone family and friends. Memories of happier times filled your mind, each recollection a bittersweet reminder of the bonds You had lost to the war of the Galaxy.

Meanwhile, out in the common area of the ship, Cal paced back and forth with furrowed brows, his concern for You evident in the worried lines etched upon his face. He had sensed your melancholy from the moment You had withdrawn to your quarters, and despite his best efforts to coax You out of your seclusion, You had insisted that You were fine, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

But BD-1, after sensing your distress, took it upon himself to cheer You up. With a soft chirp, the little droid scuttled into your quarters, carrying an assortment of gifts and trinkets.

You looked up when BD-1 dropped the presents at your feet, startled by the unexpected intrusion. But when You gazed into the droid’s photoreceptor lenses, You noticed something—empathy, compassion and a silent invitation to share in his company.

With a small smile, you reached out to accept the gifts that BD-1 had brought for You, each one a small token of friendship and comfort in the midst of your loneliness. A handcrafted charm bracelet, a bundle of aromatic herbs, and a holorecording of soothing music—all thoughtfully chosen to lift your spirits and ease the ache in your heart.

As You held the gifts close to your heart, a wave of gratitude washed over You, grateful for the droid’s unwavering support and companionship.

When Cal noticed BD-1 entering your quarters, he longed to join in as well, wanting to do everything he could to make You feel better and suddenly, an idea came to him. Quickly, he brewed a cup of your favorite caf, its rich aroma filling the air. With each measured step, he poured his heart into the simple act of preparing the beverage, hoping that it will bring You some solace in the midst of your turmoil.

As the redhead slowly walked into your quarters with the steaming cup in hand, he felt a sense of relief wash over him at the sight of the little droid’s offerings laid out before You on your bed. He was grateful for BD-1’s presence, knowing that the little droid was looking after You in his own unique way, offering You comfort when You needed it the most.

When You saw Cal enter your quarters with hesitant steps, You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in your chest at the sight of him. The small, sympathetic smile he wore tugged at your heartstrings, and as You watched him walk closer, your lips curved into a small smile of your own.

Slowly, Cal extended the cup towards You, his gesture a silent offering of support and understanding. And as You accepted the cup of caf, You felt a sense of gratitude, knowing that with Cal and BD-1 present, You were never truly alone, even in your moments of solitude. Their presence and unwavering support filled the room with a comforting sense of companionship that eased the ache in your heart.

When Cal moved to leave You to your thoughts, as You had requested earlier, a sudden impulse seized You. “ Cal, wait!” You called out, surprising yourself with the words.

Turning back to face You, the redhead’s expression was one of curiosity, his eyes searching yours.

“Would you… would you mind staying here for a while?” You asked, your voice soft with uncertainty. “I could use the company…”

A flicker of emotion passed through Cal’s eyes; a mixture of surprise, gratitude and something deeper You couldn’t quite recognise. With a small nod, he settled into the seat opposite You, his presence along with BD-1’s providing reassurance amidst your troubled thoughts.

And as you all sat together in the comfort of your quarters, the warmth of the caf and the gentle hum of conversation filled the air, slowly dissipating the tension from earlier. With each passing moment, You found yourself drawn deeper into the warmth of Cal’s presence, the sound of his deep voice soothing your worries.

As You listened to him speak, your gaze wandered, taking in the details of his appearance with a newfound appreciation. His fiery red hair, the brightest You had ever seen, seemed to glow in the soft light of the room.

His green eyes, so vibrant and full of life, sparkled with intelligence and kindness, drawing You in with their magnetic charm. And as You met his gaze, You found yourself captivated by the depth and warmth that lay within them, a reflection of the soul that resided behind those beautiful emerald orbs.

His freckles, scattered like constellations across his sun-kissed skin, added to his charm, giving him an air of boyish innocence that belied the immense strength and resilience he possessed. And though his face carried the marks of battles fought and hardships endured, each scar only served to enhance his rugged allure, a testament to the trials and tribulations he had overcome over the years.

While You took in the sight of him, bathed in the soft glow of the room, You couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration wash over You. In that moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of his presence, You knew that You were in the presence of someone truly special—a friend, a confidant, and perhaps something more.

As time went on and the bond between You and the duo deepened, You developed a deep, almost parental affection for the little droid, despite not understanding what he said half the time. Often, in moments of excitement or tenderness, You found yourself affectionately calling BD-1 "Beebee" or "BB-1," much to Cal’s amusement.

During one particularly heartwarming moment by the campfire during a stop on Bogano, as Cal's hand brushed against yours and the stars twinkled overhead, You couldn't resist reaching out to BD-1 with a soft smile.

"Come here, Beebee," You cooed, beckoning the droid closer.

BD-1 chirped happily, nuzzling against your side with a warmth that made your heart swell.

Cal chuckled at the endearing nickname, his eyes crinkling with affection as he observed the exchange.

"You're my little bebe!" You exclaimed, unable to contain your adoration for the droid, causing Cal's laughter to fill the air, a melodic sound that echoed through the night.

"You're going to spoil him with all that love," he teased, his playful tone only adding to the warmth of the moment.

You grinned, feeling a sense of contentment wash over You. "Well, he deserves it," You replied, reaching out to pat BD-1's head affectionately.

Another one of your adventures led you all to an enchanting night market, where the dim glow of colourful lanterns illuminated the bustling streets. Cloaked in hooded robes that disguised your identities, You and Cal strolled through the bustling streets and crowds of people. The outer rim planet that you all had landed on was far from the watchful eyes of the Empire, but the threat of being hunted down as Jedi still lingered, necessitating caution in your movements.

As you both moved through the sea of sellers and stalls, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal, admiring how handsome and mysterious he looked in his black cloak.

Cal too stole glances at You from beneath his hood, unable to contain his admiration. The way your eyes sparkled with curiosity as You took in the sights and sounds around You, the delicate curve of your smile as You marveled at the many stalls— it all filled him with a warmth that he couldn't quite explain.

His thoughts drifted to uncharted territory as he found himself yearning for more than just companionship with You. The urge to reach out and hold You close, to feel the warmth of your embrace and the softness of your touch, tugged at his heartstrings with an intensity he hadn't anticipated.

But the redhead knew better than to act on such impulses, especially in the midst of such a perilous situation. The threat of danger loomed overhead, reminding him of the risks involved in allowing his emotions to take control. And yet, despite the rational voice of caution in his mind, he couldn't shake the longing that stirred within him whenever he looked at You.

And as You turned to face him with a curious expression, he felt a rush of warmth fill his chest, the desire to protect and cherish You overwhelming any doubts or fears that lingered within him. In that moment, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the night market, Cal knew one thing for certain; he would do anything to keep You safe.

The redhead’s thoughts were interrupted when You suddenly rushed inside a bookstore with shelves full of interesting titles. Among them, a book on how to learn Binary stuck out, with a cover full of symbols and characters that attracted your interest.

"Hey, Cal, check this out!" You exclaimed, excitedly holding up the book after he caught up to You. "I've always wanted to learn Binary, especially now so I can understand Beebee better. What do you think?"

Cal glanced at the book, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think that's a great idea," he replied, his voice warm with encouragement. "Learning Binary could definitely help you and Beedee communicate more effectively."

Turning to BD-1, who was perched on Cal's shoulder, You addressed the droid with a playful grin. "What do you think, Beebee? You think I can learn Binary? Then you and I can gossip like schoolgirls, won't that be fun?"

Cal chuckled at your remark, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I definitely think Beedee will have some juicy gossip to tell you," he quipped, eliciting a series of excited beeps from the droid. "But yeah, learning Binary sounds like a fantastic idea. Just promise me one thing: as long as you both don't gossip about me, I'm all for it."

You giggled in response before purchasing the book and tucking it safely into your robes. For some reason, You hadn’t thought to ask Cal for lessons, thinking You could learn on your own and not wanting to trouble him as he already had too much on his plate. But now, with the book in hand, You were eager to begin learning.

After weeks turned to months aboard the Mantis, You received communication from a distant friend from within the rebellion You worked for, presenting You with a difficult choice. The holographic image flickered to life from within your now fixed comms unit, revealing the face of a trusted ally, their voice filled with urgency and determination as they extended an invitation for You to return to the rebellion.

For a moment, You felt torn, the call to duty and the desire to make a difference in the Galaxy making You feel conflicted. The rebellion was your way of fighting for freedom and justice alongside allies who shared your ideals and convictions.

But as You glanced around the familiar surroundings of the Mantis, the faces of Cal and BD-1 staring back at You with concern and uncertainty, You realised that this ship had become more than just a travelling vessel—it was your sanctuary, your home.

Cal, ever perceptive to the turmoil raging within You, approached with a gentle hand resting on your shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding and empathy. “Whatever you decide, know that we’re here for you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “You’re a part of this crew, a part of this family, and we’ll support you no matter what.”

With a heavy heart, You weighed your options, torn between the duty to your cause and the love for your newfound family.

In the end, You made your decision, lead on by your stubborn sense of duty to the cause. The call to serve the rebellion beckoned with an undeniable urgency. In a way, You and Cal were very similar, feeling like you both needed to keep fighting, unable to shake the sense of duty that weight heavily on both of you.

Cal accepted your decision with great reluctance, having half a mind to join You but he had his own duty to fulfill for Saw Gerrera’s rebellion.

When the moment of your departure drew closer, Cal and BD-1 stood beside You as You gathered your meagre belongings, their expressions a mirror of your own conflicted emotions, as You prepared to leave. The duo knew that your absence would leave a void aboard the Mantis that would be difficult to fill.

Cal, ever stoic and composed, held his emotions in check, offering You a reassuring smile as he bid You farewell. His words of encouragement and support echoed in your ears, reminding You that You were not alone in your decision, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 on the other hand, unable to contain his emotions, wailed and cried, clinging to your legs desperately as You attempted to walk down the ramp of the Mantis and onto the planet. The little droid’s cries of distress tore at your heartstrings, filling You with a sense of guilt and anguish as You struggled to pull away.

“Beebee, it’s okay,” You whispered, calling him with that endearing nickname, your voice thick with emotions as You tried to soothe the distraught droid. “I’ll come back, I promise. We’ll see eachother again soon.”

But BD-1’s cries only grew louder, his little legs clinging to You in a desperate embrace, refusing to let go. Tears welled in your eyes as You looked into the droid’s photoreceptors, seeing the depth of his sorrow reflected back at You.

As he watched BD-1 cling to You with such desperation, witnessing the droid’s anguish and your distress, Cal felt a pang of sorrow and longing grip his heart as well. He slowly approached you both, gently reaching out to the droid. “’We shouldn’t be doing this’,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with sorrow as he pried BD-1 away from You. “We must respect others’ decisions…”

The redhead wanted nothing more than to embrace You, to hold You close and offer You comfort in this difficult moment. But he knew that if he allowed himself to give in to that temptation, he would break down completely. With a heavy heart, Cal settled for a handshake instead, his touch gentle yet firm as he bid You farewell. He knew that letting You go was the right thing to do, even if it tore him apart inside.

With a heavy heart, your touch lingered on Cal’s hand before You gave BD-1 one last reassuring pat before finally stepping away and descending down the ramp. And as You walked away, the echoes of BD-1's cries followed You, a haunting reminder of the sacrifice You had made in the name of duty.

As your silhouette faded into the horizon, Cal couldn’t shake the weight of grief that settled in his chest. Watching you leave, he couldn't help but reflect on the bond that had formed between You, him and BD-1, realizing how much he and the little droid had come to cherish You.

In the short time You had been aboard the Mantis, You had become like family to them. And now, just as they had grown accustomed to your presence, You were leaving them, all too soon, like so many others before You.

The thought of saying goodbye was nearly unbearable, a painful reminder of the transience of life and the fleeting nature of companionship in a Galaxy ripped apart by conflict and suffering. But even as the pain of loss threatened to overwhelm him, Cal knew that he couldn't hold You back, knowing all too well that your duty to the rebellion was a call You could not ignore.

As Cal returned inside the Mantis, a heaviness settled upon him, weighing down his spirit with the burden of your departure. Unable to muster the resolve to fly the ship just yet, he found himself sinking into melancholy, the empty space around him echoing with the absence of your presence.

Sitting in the cockpit, Cal held BD-1 close to him, the little droid providing what comfort it could with its mechanical chirps and beeps. But even as he clung to BD-1, a sense of loneliness overcame him, a stark reminder of the void left behind by your absence.

"BeeDee," Cal murmured softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "We... We both really did come to love our new friend, didn't we?"

"Boo-woo..." BD-1 beeped in response, his photoreceptors dimming with sorrow as he nestled closer to the redhead. In that moment, as they sat together in the silent cockpit, Cal sought solace in the presence of his loyal droid.

BD-1 then emitted a flurry of hurried beeps, crying out to Cal with urgency, telling—demanding him to bring You back right this instant. Cal felt a pang of sadness grip his heart as the desperation in BD-1's cries mirrored his own inner turmoil, reminding him of the depth of the bond that had formed between him and You.

"We shouldn't be doing something like this..." Cal repeated solemnly, shaking his head as he recalled his earlier words when BD had clung to You. "We can't force someone like that..."

His voice was heavy with resignation, a reflection of the harsh reality they faced. Despite their wishes and desires, they couldn't force You to stay, no matter how much they wanted to. The decision was yours alone to make, and they had to respect that, no matter how difficult it may be.

BD-1 emitted a series of mournful beeps in response, his sorrow palpable as he nestled closer to Cal, seeking solace in his presence. Together, they sat in the quiet confines of the cockpit, grappling with the emptiness left behind by your departure, silently hoping that You will return to them one day.

Meanwhile, as the evening turned into night, You found yourself immersed in the routine of life within the rebellion's base once more, but the memory of leaving your newfound family behind weighed heavily on your mind. Amidst the chatter and activity of your fellow rebels, a sense of longing gnawed at your heart, aching for the companionship and camaraderie You had experienced aboard the Mantis.

In the quiet solitude of your old quarters, You unpacked your belongings, the Binary language book You had purchased a few weeks earlier catching your eye. The sight of it brought back precious memories, reminding You of the laughter, the warmth, and the sense of belonging You had felt with Cal and BD-1. In that moment, You realised with a pang of regret how big of a mistake You had made in leaving them behind.

With resolution burning within You, You made a spur-of-the-moment decision to return to the Mantis, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late. Racing through the dimly lit corridors of the rebellion's base, your heart pounded with anticipation as You hurried towards the landing pad where the ship was stationed.

As You approached, the silhouette of the Mantis came into view, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. Relief washed over You as You realised despite the few hours that had passed since You had left, the ship was still there, almost as if waiting patiently for your return.

You ran up the ramp and inside the ship, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your gaze fell on the solemn figures of Cal and BD-1. For a brief moment, confusion flickered across their faces, but it quickly gave way to surprise and joy as they realised that You had returned.

BD-1 was the first to react, emitting a series of excited beeps as he rushed towards You. Tears welled up in your eyes as You knelt down to greet the little droid, wrapping your arms around his small frame in a tight embrace.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered tearfully. "I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't realise how much you both meant to me until I was gone."

BD-1 chirped softly in response, his photoreceptors gleaming with happiness as he nuzzled against You. Meanwhile, Cal approached slowly, his expression a mixture of relief and concern as he watched the emotional reunion unfold before him.

"Welcome back," he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion.

With BD-1 by your side as a reassuring presence, You rose from your embrace with the droid and turned to face Cal, the weight of your emotions spilling over as You threw your arms around him in a tight hug.

As You hugged Cal, your heart overflowing with emotion, he returned the embrace just as fervently, his strong arms enveloping You in a comforting hold.

"I'm so sorry, Cal," You whispered once more, your voice trembling. "I didn't mean to leave you both..."

Cal held You at arm's length, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of relief and sincerity. "You mean a lot to us, you know," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of his feelings. "We've come to rely on you, to count on you. And when you left..."

His voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. But before You could respond, BD-1 let out a series of joyful beeps, trotting over to nuzzle against You in his own display of affection.

The redhead grinned fondly at the droid before turning his attention back to You. "Beedee's right. You're not just a member of the crew," he continued, his words filled with warmth. "You're family. And we're just grateful to have you back where you belong."

Tears of gratitude flowed down your cheeks as You gazed at Cal, feeling the weight of his words sink in. In that moment, surrounded by the love and acceptance of your chosen family, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

Your adventures continued, roaming the Galaxy with Cal and BD-1. Despite using your book to teach yourself Binary and spending more time with BD-1, your grasp of the language remained shaky at best, leading to frequent misunderstandings with your droid friend that often led to comical yet occasionally embarrassing moments.

During one very tense mission on a remote planet, BD-1 emitted a series of urgent beeps, which You interpreted as a call for action. Without hesitation, You activated the nearest control panel, thinking You were helping to disable a security system. But your actions did the opposite instead, triggering a blaring alarm and alerting nearby guards.

Cal chuckled softly at your mistake, but his amusement turned to concern when You misinterpreted BD-1's attempts at giving directions using the help of his holomap. Confused by the droid's beeps, You accidentally led the way into a dead-end corridor, much to Cal's bemusement.

"Oh, wrong turn…" You mumbled sheepishly, earning a sympathetic pat on the back from Cal.

As the mission progressed, so did your series of misunderstandings. At one point, BD-1 signaled for a left turn, but You mistook it for a right, resulting on a wild goose chase through a maze of corridors. Cal laughed good-naturedly as You backtracked, feeling slightly embarrassed but grateful— and very surprised—for his immense patience.

Later, during a small respite from missions, BD-1 chirped happily and nudged You, prompting You to offer the droid a sandwich You had just made.

Cal chuckled again, gently correcting your mistake. "He's asking for a power recharge, not a snack," he explained, suppressing a grin.

Blushing, You quickly helped BD-1 into the charging station, feeling a bit silly but grateful for the opportunity to learn.

As you three continued your journey, your misunderstandings with BD-1 became both more frequent and more amusing. One memorable incident during a mission on a remote outpost, BD-1 quickly warned You about a slippery surface ahead. However, You misinterpreted the droid's chirps as encouragement for a fun slide.

With a playful grin, You ran and launched yourself onto the surface, expecting a thrilling ride. Instead, your feet flew out from under You, and You landed with a loud thud that sent a cloud of dust into the air.

Cal rushed over, concern etched on his face, but as he helped You up and noticed You were fine except a few scrapes, his expression softened into a grin.

"You really need to work on your Binary," he teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Blushing furiously, You burst out into laughter along with him, grateful for his good humor and unwavering support.

One evening, as the three of you sat around a campfire beneath a blanket of stars, the flames casting flickering shadows across the campsite, You couldn't help but steal glances at Cal when he wasn't looking. His red hair, illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, appeared to shimmer like molten copper, framing his face in a halo of fiery strands.

His freckled cheeks, kissed by the suns of countless worlds, added a touch of youthful charm to his rugged features. And when he laughed, his eyes sparkled like twin galaxies, filled with a light that seemed to chase away the darkness.

But it wasn't just his appearance that captivated You—it was the effortless grace with which he moved, the strength and agility evident in every fluid motion. His muscular yet lithe physique reflected countless hours spent honing his skills, preparing for the challenges that lay ahead.

Lost in admiration, You found yourself drawn to him in ways You couldn't quite explain, feeling a sense of déjà vu during that moment as You admired him. And as You watched him tend to the fire, his movements sure and purposeful, You couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

While the flames danced and crackled, Cal couldn't help but steal a glance at You as well when he thought You weren't looking. He felt a surge of gratitude and relief to have You there with him, especially after the rest of the Mantis crew had split, each going their separate ways.

In those quiet moments by the campfire, Cal's thoughts drifted to the challenges you had faced together so far—the battles fought and the bonds forged in the crucible of adversity. And through it all, You had stood by his side, a constant companion whose presence filled him with a sense of hope and purpose.

He also admired your determination to learn binary, your willingness to laugh at your own mistakes, and the genuine warmth and affection You showed towards BD-1. In your company, he found a sense of peace and belonging, something he hadn't felt since the fall of the Jedi Order.

Lost in his thoughts, the redhead couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for You, grateful for your unwavering support and companionship. And as he watched You, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Cal's gaze remained on You longer than usual, a hint of something more lingering in his eyes. As the crackling of the fire filled the silence, he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze, You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from his.

"I... I think so," You stuttered, your heart racing in your chest.

In that moment, the world around You seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the soft glow of the campfire. Without another word, Cal leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, hesitant kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as You melted into his embrace, the warmth of his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you, lost in the embrace of the night.

As You pulled away, breathless and flushed, Cal's eyes sparkled in their intensity, his calloused hand reaching out to intertwine with yours.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and relief.

With a smile, You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of peace settle over You. "Me too," You whispered, knowing that in that moment, You had found something worth fighting for amidst the chaos of the Galaxy.

As You and Cal continued to lovingly gaze into each other's eyes, soft little footsteps filled the air, accompanied by the joyous chirps of BD-1. However, in your post-kiss daze, You misinterpreted the droid's enthusiastic speech, thinking he was teasing You for being all googly-eyed over Cal.

"Beebee, not now," You whispered nervously, blushing furiously as You tried to compose yourself.

Cal laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he gently nudged You. "I think BeeDee is just happy for us," he teased, his tone laced with affectionate amusement.

You shot him a sheepish grin, realising You mistook the little droid once again. "I guess I still have a lot to learn," You admitted.

Cal's teasing grin softened into a warm smile as he squeezed your hand. "Well, lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher," he replied, his teasing tone hinting at something more than just language lessons.

You couldn't help but blush at the underlying implication of his words, a flutter of excitement dancing in your chest. You leaned in to kiss him once more and as the tender moment between You and Cal lingered, bathed in the soft glow of the campfire, BD-1’s lenses suddenly whirred to life, capturing the scene in a flash of light. Startled, You pulled away from the kiss, blinking in surprise as You turned to see the droid standing nearby, his photoreceptors zooming in and out as they focused on You and Cal with mechanical precision.

“BeeBee, what are you doing?” You asked, a mixture of amusement and curiosity apparent in your voice.

Cal chuckled softly, his arm still wrapped around You as he glanced at the small droid with a playful grin. “I think BeeDee wanted to capture the moment,” he explained, his eyes alight with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpected gesture, feeling a rush of warmth fill your chest at the thought of having a memento of this special moment.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to thank BeeBee for the souvenir,” You replied, leaning into Cal’s embrace with a contented sigh, giggling when You heard the little droid let out an excited “Whoop!” in response.

You, Cal and BD-1 settled back into the quiet comfort of the night, the image captured by BD’s lenses served as a reminder of the bond You shared with the other Jedi—a bond formed from friendship and love.

As silence once again fell upon the campsite, You found yourself lost in a moment of quiet reflection. The memory of how Cal and BD-1 had found You, helping You escape from the stormtroopers, flooded your mind with a wave of gratitude. If it hadn't been for them, You might not be here, nestled in Cal's arms, sharing laughter and companionship under the starry sky.

With a sweet smile, You turned to Cal, the flickering flames casting shadows across his features. "You know," You began softly, "I often find myself thinking about that day when a Jedi and a droid came into my life. If it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be now. Thank you, Cal, for everything."

Cal's gaze met yours, his expression tender and sincere. "You don't have to thank me," he replied gently. "I'm just grateful that we found each other. You've become a part of our family, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

His words warmed your heart, filling You with a sense of belonging that You had never known before. With a grateful nod, You leaned even further into his embrace, savoring the comfort and reassurance of his presence. In that moment, surrounded by the silence of the night, the warmth of Cal's love and the joyous chatter of BD-1, You knew that You were exactly where You were meant to be.

[wanderer-six]

Sleepless Nights

AN: Had an idea for the reader as the batch's Jedi General finding it hard to sleep when she's on Kamino with them (their room is probably so miserable and also the couch is the only open real estate LOL), turned into cute drabbles for every member of the batch! Enjoy ♥♥

Relationships: Did a drabble for every member of the Batch individually; established relationship for all of them!

Summary: You are the Jedi General for the Bad Batch. On a rare stay on Kamino, you find yourself restless in the Batch's barracks. You sneak away in hopes of making yourself sleepy, but with little luck. Thankfully, your favorite clone sweetheart finds you and does his best to help.

WARNINGS: They are all just fluff EXCEPT HUNTER bc he is a whore (fingering, dirty talk) - put him last in line to be safe/in case u do not want to deal with him (VALID)

Word Count: About 2k per boy, ~6.5k total!

Try as you might to fade off to sleep, you can’t do much more than stare at the ceiling.

In an event nearly as rare as a cool day on Mustafar, the Bad Batch had returned to Kamino for a brief stay. Though the visit wouldn’t last long—just enough time to refuel and restock—you now find yourself staying overnight in the Batch’s barracks. Since you’ve become their “de facto” Jedi General, they were kind enough to clear some space in their very cluttered room so that you had a place to sleep on the couch by the window.

And, as considerate a gesture as that was, the stiff Kaminoan furniture fails to bring you the same comfort as your bed in the temple.

Sighing quietly, you loll your head to the side, making out the room in the faint light. Unlike you, it seemed all five of your companions slept soundly. Tech had passed out, datapad in hand, while Echo slept bundled under a dozen blankets in his makeshift hammock. Hunter’s long hair was a complete mess, and Crosshair was about as quiet and stiff as a corpse. Wrecker, in contrast, snored so loudly that you weren’t certain how any of you ever got any rest. But even with how loud he was, the other four had all managed to lapse into their dreams, getting all the rest they needed before you were to set out in the morning.

So even among the odd ones out, you were odder, still.

Wearily, you rub your eyes, turning away to look up at the window. Little drops of rain flecked against the transparisteel, and watching them roll down eased your mind. When you were younger—back before the war—rainy days on Coruscant were something you looked forward to. Your master would kindly allow you to stay in for the day, trading your studies for many hours spent reading with a hot cup of tea at your side. Though you couldn’t enjoy such luxuries anymore, the rain still brought you a warm feeling of nostalgia… a comfort that could rarely be replicated.

It makes you wonder if such a feeling could be the cure for your insomnia.

With one last glance at your companions, you gingerly shed the blanket you’ve been resting under. Careful not to make any noise, you step into your slippers and get to your feet. Though the chilly temperature of the Kaminoan facilities isn’t exactly pleasant in your shorts and tank top, you grab your blanket and power through it. Having spent as much time on Kamino as you have during the war, you’ve found a few places that you like to run off to every now and then—and you know that the spot you have in mind will make powering through the cold more than worth it.

Carefully, you tiptoe through the piles of electronics, mementos and trophies that litter the Batch’s room, making sure not to disturb a single thing as you make your way to the door. When you reach it at last, you let out the breath you’d been holding. With one last peek over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t disturbed any of your friends, you open the door—closing it just as swiftly when you’re on the other side.

Though they remain lit in a blinding white, the halls of Tipoca City are largely empty at this hour. You’re more than thankful for that, since you can’t imagine the looks you’d get walking around in your pajamas. You wind through the corridors, eventually making your way to a secluded elevator. When you enter, the door closes behind you, and you’re lifted up to your destination.

The elevator releases you into a small, quiet room with a large overhang and a window open to the elements at the far end. You would describe it as a “viewing deck”, but it was unlike the Kaminoans to build anything for sentimental value. Even still, the room served such a purpose for you, and that was good enough. You walk inside, and the room darkens as the elevator door shuts behind you. Only the ambient glow of the grey, stormy night over Kamino remains, and you couldn’t appreciate it more.

You roam a bit closer to the exposed window, and just as the cool breeze strikes you, you stop. Gently, you take a seat on the floor, facing the open sky. You deeply breathe in the smell of the rain, filled with memories of better days. The raindrops strike against the metal roof, and for a while, you simply sit in silence. Bundling your blanket around your shoulders a bit more tightly, you pout—though you feel more relaxed, it seems sleepiness is still not in your stars. It’s frustrating to say the least, and you can’t help but sigh.

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to rest tonight.

After a short while, something catches you by surprise. Without warning, you hear the quiet hum of the elevator doors. You’re nearly worried that the Kaminoans have come to chastise you for sneaking off into some secret lab of theirs. But when you look over your shoulder, peering through the yellow glow of the elevator lights, you see…

WRECKER

… the large frame of Wrecker, who stumbles into the room.

The poor thing’s eyes switch between half-lidded and fully closed, and it’s clear from the way he wobbles as he walks that he isn’t fully awake. However, that fact obviously hasn’t dampened his resolve to find you—something that you find all too adorable.

“Wrecker?” you call to him. In the sweetest way, he perks up when he hears your voice.

“... little tooka?” he grumbles, referring to you by the adorable nickname he’d given you when you first met. Rubbing one of his eyes, he tromps over to where you’re sitting. Before you can say another word, he plops down beside you, swiftly burgling you into his lap. You giggle in surprise—more so when he wraps you up tight in his big arms.

“Wrecker…!” you beam, wriggling in his embrace until you’re able to kiss his cheek. “What are you doing up, handsome? It’s late!”

Wrecker heaves a heavy sigh, keeping you snug in his embrace.

“You… you were gone…” he murmurs, rubbing his cheek absently against your head as he speaks. “Missed you…”

His voice trails off into a quiet hum, and he sets a gentle kiss on your temple. You’ve always enjoyed being in Wrecker’s embrace—short of being a Wookiee, he’s the biggest and cuddliest man in the whole galaxy. But with the war going on, you often find yourself hugging him when he’s wearing his cold, hard armor.

Tonight, however, he has no gear to speak of. With him in his blacks, you aren’t separated from him by a layer of plastoid-alloy composite. You can feel the warmth of his broad chest beneath the soft fabric, and his muscular arms make you feel safer than anything. He gives you soft butterfly kisses all over your face, lazily petting your head. You smile softly—he treats you just as kindly as he treats his Lula.

“I’m glad you came up here, but… you didn’t have to come looking for me, handsome,” you assure him. “I would’ve come back to the barracks eventually. I was just feeling a little restless, is all.”

Wrecker nods slowly, though with the way his eyes are firmly shut, you have no doubt he missed every word you said.

“Yeah, uh-huh…” he mumbles. He pauses for a moment, drawing a deep, steady breath. “... I love you so much.”

With a bright smile, you kiss his cheek. “I love you, too, Wrecker.”

Those words, in particular, manage to break through his sleepy haze. He dons a big grin—one so sweet you can’t help but giggle.

“I just wanna hold you like this forever,” he sighs. For a moment, his eyes open, and with the sweetest, meekest tone, he asks, “Will you always be my little tooka?”

Your heart aches with overwhelming affection for your poor, sleepy sweetheart. Gingerly, you drape your arms around his neck, drawing him in for a long, loving kiss—one that you hope tells him you’ll always be his better than words ever could.

When your lips part, he smiles again, bumping his nose awkwardly against yours. You laugh, giving him one last quick peck.

“Wrecker… as long as you stay this sweet, I’ll always, always be your little tooka,” you assure him, resting your forehead on his. “And nothing will ever change that. I promise.”

Overwhelmed with love, Wrecker lets out a big, happy sigh—cuddling you even closer against his chest.

“Little tooka… you’re the best girl in the whole galaxy,” he hums with the utmost contentment, “I love you so much, it… it’s not even funny.”

Though you smile at his outpouring of affection, you find yourself yawning for the first time that night. Something about the way Wrecker holds you so close, the rhythmic way his fingers run across your scalp, the warmth of his body against the cold of the stormy night…

Against all odds, you think your sweetheart is just the one to coax you off to sleep.

The two of you sit quietly for a short while, exchanging sweet nothings to one another as the rain turns from a churning storm to a gentle shower. When your eyelids feel about as heavy as Wrecker’s, you look up to him with a smile, setting your hand on his cheek.

“Well, sweetheart… we should probably head back to the barracks,” you whisper. “We don’t want the others to think we’ve gone missing when they wake up.”

With an obedient nod, Wrecker gets to his feet—carrying you in his arms all the while. Just as tired as he was when he came up to find you, he hobbles back to the elevator, though not without a kiss on your forehead along the way.

Wrecker carries you all the way back to the barracks, and though you expect him to lay you back down in your spot on the couch, he instead keeps you in his arms all the way to his bunk. Even as he retreats back under his covers, he holds onto you, making sure you’re snug as a brindlebug when he settles down at last—and in Wrecker’s arms, how could you be anything but?

With you cozy against his chest, Wrecker smiles down at you, giving you one last kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight, lil’ tooka,” he whispers, “I love you.”

With a bright smile, you nuzzle your head into his neck as you wrap your arms around him (well, as close to “around him” as your arms can reach).

“Goodnight, Wrecker… I love you, too,” you answer.

And at long last, you fall asleep—finally comfortable in the arms of the sweetest boy in the galaxy.

ECHO

…Echo, whose bright eyes soften when you meet them. Though he clearly came to find you, he looks almost shy as he enters the room, stepping softly as he approaches your side.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smile. “Of course, Echo.”

Reassured by your words, Echo takes a seat to your right, heaving a long sigh as he stares into the storm pouring over Tipoca City. At first, he keeps quiet, as though not wanting to interrupt your peaceful silence. But when you lean your head on his shoulder, batting your eyes at him with a kind smile, he finds his courage.

“Can’t sleep?” he guesses.

With a lazy nod, you sigh.

“Yup. Just couldn’t keep my eyes closed,” you lament. “Usually, listening to the rain helps me get tired, but even that’s not working tonight…”

Echo chuckles. He wraps his arm around your waist, drawing gentle circles on your side with his thumb.

“Yeah… I’m right there with you,” he says. “If it’s not nightmares about Skako Minor, it’s Wrecker’s snoring. Either way, I’m lucky if I can get any rest.”

You flash him a sad smile, dotting a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth as a means to share your sympathy. With all he’s endured, you know just how hard Echo has had to fight on and off the battlefield to keep himself afloat. He’s told you time and again how much your love helps, and you hope he knows just how happy you are to give it.

“Well… I guess we’re in good company, then,” you smile, nuzzling your face further into the crook of his neck.

Softly, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah… insomnia isn’t half bad with you around,” he chuckles. After falling silent for another moment, Echo hums quietly. “You know, back in my old battalion, my brothers and I had a game we’d play whenever we were up late and trying to pass the time.”

“What’s that?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“We would take turns naming as many planets as we could think of. If it was your turn, and you couldn’t name a planet, you lost,” he explained. The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, his gaze falling as memories of brothers long passed warmed him. “We used to go for hours. I don’t know that I ever won… half the time, I’d fall asleep before we even got to the end.”

The thought of young Echo, diligent and tenacious, spending long hours racking his brain for the name of just one more planet sent you into a fit of giggles. Echo’s smile warms beside you.

“What?!” he demands, hand squeezing your hip playfully.

“Nothing, nothing,” you insist. “I just can’t believe how cute you are, sometimes.”

Though a blush fills Echo’s cheeks, the bashful grin he wears below it lets you know your little compliments are working.

“Heh… I know you’re just trying to get my guard down so I might go easy on you,” he teases. Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, go easy on me?” you scoff. “I spent years memorizing planets at the temple. You should be hoping I’ll go easy on you.”

Echo rolls his eyes, though the smile never falters on his lips.

“All right, then…” he chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he really needs to think about how he plans to open. “... Coruscant.”

“Wow; bold choice,” you snark, earning a chuckle from him. “How about… Kamino?”

“Raxus,” he returns immediately.

“Mandalore,” you shoot back.

“Ryloth.”

“Naboo.”

The two of you go back and forth, on and on, for what feels like hours. Given the number of planets you name, it probably is hours. Echo hadn’t been kidding about his experience—as many hundreds of planets that you know of from your studies at the temple, he seems to know even more. In a strange way, it’s really charming. Being able to name a thousand planets probably has next to no real-life applications, but it speaks volumes of that competitive spirit hidden in Echo that you admire like nothing else.

Eventually, the quickfire pace the two of you had kept up at the beginning slows to a crawl as fewer and fewer planets come to mind. You have to scour the farthest corners of your memory in hopes of remembering anything. 

“...oh! Hoth!” you manage. Echo swears under his breath, and you laugh. “You can give up any time, you know. I won’t gloat too much.”

With a fierce grin, Echo’s brow furrows. He seems to focus harder on this than on anything he has in his whole life.

“...Endor,” he says. When you don’t answer for a moment, Echo turns his head to you, finding a coy smirk on your lips. “...what?”

“I’m pretty sure Endor’s a moon,” you answer.

Echo’s eyes go wide.

“What? No way,” he spits. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” you repeat.

“Well… maybe it’s both!”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to admit you lost.”

“No, it could definitely be both!”

The two of you look into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“... Tech would know,” you both say in unison.

As soon as the words leave your mouths, you both burst into laughter. You rarely have the opportunity to spend time like this anymore—just the two of you enjoying one another as people, admiring all there is to love about one another. But as you settle down from your giggling fit, enjoying the sight of Echo’s warm eyes as they gaze back at you, you thank the stars for every moment you have with him.

And you see fit to thank him with a kiss—one he eagerly returns.

When you pull away, the soft smile on Echo’s lips warms you to your core. He doesn’t go far, leaning into you as his forehead touches yours.

“You know… whenever those games didn’t work, or whenever I was alone… I had something else to help me get to sleep,” he confesses.

“Oh?” you ask. “What?”

He bumps his nose affectionately on yours, almost hesitant to share.

“Well… on those nights, it always helped to think about you,” he whispered.

The gentle tone of Echo’s voice kicked your heart into overdrive. With a bashful grin, you abruptly pull Echo into your arms, squeezing him so tight he can barely breathe.

“Oh, Echo…!” you coo. “When did you get so sweet?!”

Echo chuckled sheepishly. “Heh… sometime between nearly dying and now, I guess.”

Holding onto him for dear life, you can’t help the weariness that overcomes you. When a quiet yawn escapes your lips, Echo smiles.

“Finally tired, huh?” he asks.

“Mmm-hm,” you hum. Your weary eyes find his, filled with affection. “Thanks to you, handsome.”

Echo’s smile softens. Gently, his scomp link lifts your chin, and he offers you one last loving kiss before getting to his feet.

“Come on, then. Let’s get back to bed while we still have time to sleep,” he says. Once he’s standing, he offers his hand down to you, helping you to your feet all the same.

Hanging on Echo’s arm, you walk to the elevator, working your way back to the barracks. Once you settle back onto the couch, and Echo into his hammock, Echo reaches out to you. With a warm smile, you take his hand. Fingers intertwined with his, you finally drift off to sleep, warmed wholly by the love you share.

TECH

…the glare of Tech’s goggles against the dark room. You squint as your eyes adjust, shielding your face with one hand until the elevator doors close.

“Tech?” you call out as he makes his way over to you. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a seat beside you, perfectly casual.

“Looking for you, obviously,” he replies. “And now, I’ve found you.”

Without missing a beat, he produces his datapad in his hands, idly tapping away on it without a care. You find a smile on your lips—he’s nothing if not predictable.

“Looking for me? Aw, Tech,” you coo. “Were you worried?”

Tech hums. “Worried? Not so much. As a Jedi Knight, you are more than capable of defending yourself—far better than I could, I am sure. No, I was merely wondering where you had run off to. And why.”

You sigh softly, hugging your knees close to your chest.

“Well… I’m just a little restless tonight, that’s all,” you explain. “It happens every once in a while, I just can’t sleep. No idea why.”

“Hmm. I see,” Tech says. Not even bothering to look at you, Tech slides closer to your side. He wraps his free arm around you, beckoning you to rest your head on his shoulder as he knows you love to do. You smile, obliging him gladly—even if he does not show it in the way others might, he is still perfectly affectionate. “It could be any number of things.”

“Like what?” you ask.

He adjusts his goggles, clearing his throat quietly before he speaks again. Your eyes can’t help but drink in his every little action. The two of you have been close for some time now, but even before you expressed your feelings, you’d grown so fond of all of his mannerisms. Just watching Tech be Tech calms you like nothing in the galaxy.

“Barring more severe medical conditions, insomnia can result from a number of different causes—many of which are, regrettably, found in our typical living conditions,” he explains. “For example, disturbances in the form of loud sounds can prevent or disrupt someone’s sleep…”

“Wrecker?” you interrupt, causing him to glance at you. When he sees a small smirk on your lips, he matches it.

“Precisely,” he nods. “In addition, bright lights can disturb the brain’s circadian rhythm. Which, er…” He pauses, glancing warily between his glaring datapad and you. Awkwardly, he tilts the screen away from your face. “...sorry.”

With a laugh, you shake your head. “It’s okay, handsome. You were saying?”

Tech nods curtly, before continuing to list more and more of the conditions that might be affecting your sleep. The more he talks, the longer he rambles, you find yourself leaning further and further into him. Something in the way he speaks has you captivated, soothing you like a lullaby. He articulates himself so wonderfully, every consonant he strikes sending shivers through you.

It isn’t long before Tech catches on to the way you cling to him. He tilts his head curiously.

“Is something wrong?” he inquires. With a lazy smile, you shake your head.

“No… I just like listening to you talk,” you murmur.

Tech blinks, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “You do?”

“Mmhm,” you sigh. Batting your weary eyes at him, you lean forward just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Will you keep talking, handsome?”

“W-Well… what about?” he asks.

You shrug, shutting your eyes again. “Whatever you want. Maybe ways to help me cure this little bout of insomnia?”

Tech looks over you with such fondness, eyes soft on you as you nuzzle your head into his shoulder. With a kind smile, he sets his datapad down beside him. He surprises you when he repositions himself, laying his legs out flat and allowing you to rest your head on his lap. Though you look up at him with uncertainty, he meets you with a kiss on your forehead.

“I would be glad to enlighten you, my dear,” he smiles, his voice now just above a whisper. “It is funny you should mention it. For some people, white noise is helpful to induce sleep. Things like the sound of the rain, or…” He pauses, awkwardly clearing his throat. “...or someone’s voice.”

You beam up at him, and he smiles shyly back at you. Gentle and sweet, his fingers begin to trace all along your head, soothing you with every last touch. Your eyes flutter closed, utterly lost in his attention.

“Hmm… does it work extra well if it’s the voice of the sweetest man in the galaxy?” you murmur, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I would not think so,” he answers. “But, if I am the man you are referring to, I am inclined to give my best effort for you.”

You chuckle. “Of course I’m referring to you, Tech. I love you, you know…”

Opening your eyes just as long as you can manage, you gaze up at him with the overwhelming affection in your heart. Gently, he cups your cheek with his hand, pressing a delicate kiss on each of your eyelids.

“And I love you more,” he answers, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “Now, just relax. I will take care of you.”

Never have you trusted anyone more than you trust him. With a nod, you close your eyes again, fully submitting to Tech’s care. His voice and his touch relieve your every worry, and before long, you finally find yourself drifting off at last.

You sleep with a smile, his kind words carrying you to your dreams.

CROSSHAIR

… the piercing gaze of none other than Crosshair. When his eyes find you, his usually stern expression softens just slightly.

Wordlessly, he crosses the room, quiet as a lothcat. He approaches you from behind, sitting down and pulling you between his legs. You giggle as his lithe form all but engulfs you, his chest against your back and his chin atop your head. When his arms snake under yours and wrap around your waist, you rest your hands on his, falling fully victim to his embrace.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you smirk. “Did you miss me?”

Crosshair exhales sharply.

“Hm. Not really,” he replies, though you can hear the grin on his lips.

You lean further into him, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“Aww, not even a little?” you press him.

Crosshairs grip on your waist tightens. He squeezes your sides just enough to make you squeak.

“Not in the slightest,” he fibs.

With a warm smile, you sigh into the cold night air, perfectly content in Crosshair’s arms.

“Well, I missed you… and I’m happy you found me,” you assure him.

He hums a quiet affirmation, before the two of you fall silent, enjoying the gentle ambience of the storm. You can think of very few people you’d feel so comfortable with in this situation—any other silence would beg you to speak and dash it away. But with Crosshair, you feel no obligation to talk for talking’s sake. Neither one of you had much patience for people who just liked the sound of their own voice. No, you two could communicate more than effectively without a word.

And with how he holds you now, you fully understand the depths of his love for you.

The two of you remain in comfortable quiet for quite some time, until at last, the gentle purr of Crosshair’s voice meets your ear.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmurs.

Sighing, you nod. “Mmhm.”

“Hmm.”

He falls quiet again. Idly, his nimble hands trace along your waist. You let them roam—you would never point it out to him, given how sensitive he can be, but you’ve grown quite fond of the way his hands seem to trace you when he holds you like this. He has so many little quirks, and you’ve come to appreciate all of them in your time together. It’s what makes him the man you love, after all.

“You should take my bunk,” he says.

“Hm?” you ask. “Then where will you sleep?”

“On the couch. Obviously.”

With a pout, you crane your head to look at him, only to find him already gazing back at you. The way he looks at you always draws a blush to your cheeks—it’s so intense, so sincere… you never feel more safe, nor more vulnerable. “Sweetheart, I’ll be okay,” you promise. Gently setting your hand on his cheek, you smile. “I can fall asleep eventually. You don’t have to give up your bunk just for me…”

Crosshair huffs—that cute little sigh he heaves whenever you argue with him.

“It’s fine. Between Wrecker and the storm, I wasn’t getting much sleep, anyhow,” he assures you. “Besides, you need the rest more than I do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m a Jedi, remember? I can last a lot longer without sleep than you can.” Your gaze softens, and you run your thumb along his cheekbone. “And you never get a good night’s rest. You deserve it, Cross.”

Despite your affectionate words, Crosshair frowns. He narrows his eyes at you, before closing them entirely. With a weary groan, he presses his forehead against yours.

“Love, can you please stop being so stubborn just this once?” he grumbles. “I know it’s hard for you, since it seems your favorite thing to do is argue with me. But please.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. You bump your nose against his.

“It’s my second favorite thing, thank you very much.” Tilting your head, you kiss him softly, pulling away with an emphatic ‘mmwah’ to his utmost embarrassment. “That is my favorite. But okay, you win. I’ll take your bunk.”

For a moment, he seems satisfied, the slightest grin creeping onto his lips. He leans in to kiss you again, but before he can, you speak once more.

“If…”

Crosshair’s brow furrows. “If what?”

“If you sleep there with me.”

Immediately, his eyes go wide. You feel his body tense up around you, and he rears back just slightly. You know it isn’t the prospect of sharing a bed with you that has him so worried—the two of you have more than grown familiar with each other by now. Rather, he fears those who will awake to find you sharing a bed together: his brothers. If there’s one thing Crosshair cannot stand, it’s giving anyone the upper hand on him, even for something like a little teasing.

Cupping his face in your hands, you meet his gaze with warm eyes.

“Hey,” you assure him, “if they say anything, I’ll beat them up. Okay?”

Crosshair utters the softest chuckle, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Begrudgingly, he sighs, setting his hands on yours before leaning in to kiss you.

“... fine,” he concedes at last.

You beam, touched as always by the way he’s always so willing to compromise for you. Getting to your feet, you take his hands into yours, helping him up all the same. When he stands, you keep his hands in yours, pulling him just low enough so you can kiss him once more.

“I love you, Cross,” you whisper. He gazes down at you, eyes alight with such affection that you know he only reserves for you. Tenderly, he presses a kiss atop your head, allowing his lips to linger there.

“I love you, too,” he returns.

When you finally return to the barracks, you find yourself cozy and snug in Crosshair’s bunk. Given it has an actual mattress, it’s far more comfortable than the couch by the window—made even more so by the embrace of your beloved sniper. In his arms, sleep finds you more easily than it has in years. The gentle caress of his hands is the last thing you feel before you finally drift off.

HUNTER (NSFW)

… Hunter, whose tired eyes light up with a smile when he spots you.

“There you are,” he hums, with the most handsome gravel in his weary voice. “I was wondering where you ran off to…”

You smile warmly at him as he saunters up beside you. He takes a seat next to you, not shy at all to wrap his arm around your waist when he does.

“How’d you find me? I thought I covered my tracks very well,” you ask with a grin. He smirks back at you.

“Really? All those sleemos I’ve tracked down on our missions and you want to know how I could follow you here?” he teases, pinching your cheek playfully.

With a giggle, you shake his hand off of you. “Hey, it never hurts to double check.”

Hunter presses a kiss to your temple. His lips feel warm, even more when compared to the cold breeze from outside.

“What are you doing up so late, cyar’ika?” he asks you softly. With an awkward smile, you shrug.

“I wish I knew,” you sigh, gaze falling to the floor. “For some reason I just can’t sleep tonight. I don’t know why…” You pout, hugging your knees against your chest. “It’s annoying, that’s for sure.”

Hunter nods solemnly.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he hums. “This war’s exhausting, but I still find it hard to close my eyes some nights…”

He falls quiet for a moment. The sound of the rain and the warmth of Hunter’s embrace fill you with a sense of peace.

“What about you?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “What about me?”

“What has you up so late, huh?”

A sly smirk forms on Hunter’s lips. He shrugs a shoulder, all too casual.

“Well, I was sound asleep, but a little someone saw fit to leave me all by my lonesome in the barracks,” he sighs. “Guess I just got restless.”

You grin, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh? Your brothers weren’t good enough company?” you tease.

Hunter chuckles; the hand on your waist lingers lower, his fingers skirting the hem of your shorts and making you shiver. He leans in close to you, lips nearly touching yours.

“Well… they’re not the kind of company I’m after tonight,” he purrs.

A blush fills your cheeks. Unable to resist his charm, you close the gap between you, meeting Hunter in a kiss that deepened by the moment. As his tongue slipped between your lips, you felt him hoist you into his lap, facing you away from him. He parts from the kiss with a low growl in his chest, before trailing more softly down your neck.

“Hunter…” you breathe, eyes falling shut as he lavishes you with affection. 

His warm lips come second only to his warm hands that have since found their way under your shirt. His every caress causes heat to rise beneath your cheeks—even more when his palms land firmly on your chest.

You hum his name again, breath hitching as his fingers toy with your breasts. Behind you, his chest presses against your back. Even without all his armor, he feels so strong… so big. You know that, in his arms, you would always be safe. Well… safe from the other dangers of the galaxy—certainly not safe from him.

“You know what helps me when I can’t sleep?” he asks, breath tickling your neck. You manage a chuckle—although a moan quickly overtakes it when Hunter’s teeth bear down on your flesh.

“I could wager a guess,” you tease. You feel Hunter smile against you.

“Really?” While one hand continues to coddle your breasts, another meanders slowly down your torso. “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

Though you wish to continue playing hard to get, Hunter’s attention makes that difficult. Your words stick in your throat when his hands breach the waistband of your shorts, fingers creeping over your panties. When he strokes over the wet spot in the fabric, you whimper in spite of your best efforts. Deft swipes offer just enough friction to drive you mad with want, but his strong arms hold firm against your attempts to rut into his hand.

“Well? Out with it,” he growls. His lips press to your ear, your heart thrumming against your chest when he adds, “Tell me what you want.”

With the way Hunter’s fingers work you outside of your panties, he must know that you hardly have the composure to make such a request of him. Your groans as you vye desperately to speak the words he wishes must still fill him with some satisfaction—enough that you can feel how hard he is against your back.

“Hunter… please…” you manage, biting your lower lip when he deepens his pressure just slightly.

“Don’t be shy, cyar’ika,” he purrs. “Say it.”

Meeting his gaze with hazy eyes, you sigh.

“Make me come, Hunter…”

You can practically hear the grin on his lips when those words leave you at last. He presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“Heh… anything for you, love,” he smirks.

Swiftly, Hunter pushes your panties to the side; when his hands touch you, now with nothing in the way, the mewl he draws from you sounds so pathetic that you thank every star for the raging storm outside to drown you out. His calloused fingers draw circles around your aching clit, now drenched in the wetness that resulted from his teasing. Only he knew you this well—well enough to have you trembling in his lap, babbling half-formed thoughts of your desire, completely and utterly helpless.

As if you couldn’t get worse, Hunter’s other hand soon joins the first. Not once stopping his motions on your clit, his fingers find your cunt, slipping inside of you with ease. Your walls clench around him, your every sense overwhelmed with ecstasy. The sound of your wetness against his hands, the taste of his needy tongue, the smell of his sweat and yours, the sight of his half-lidded eyes, and the feeling… it was all too much to bear.

Edging closer and closer, your hands reached behind you, finding purchase in Hunter’s hair. You rest your forehead against his, struggling to meet his gaze, but needing to all the same.

“Hunter…” you breathe, a whimper interrupting your train of thought. “I-I…”

Knowing exactly what you want—what you need—Hunter grins. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, meeting you in one last longing kiss.

“Go on, cyare—come for me,” he whispers. The sensual rasp of his voice combined with the magic he works between your legs has you obeying his orders with ease, tension building to your climax. “That’s it… beautiful…”

You come hard on his hands, your cunt fluttering around his fingers as they pulse into you still. The movements on your clit do not relent, either, elongating your orgasm into something unbearably pleasurable. It feels like minutes before he’s done with you—and minutes before you’re done, as a result. But, eventually, his touch slows, bringing you down from your highest high and lulling you into your warm afterglow.

Breathless and spent, you collapse against Hunter, nuzzling your face lazily into his neck. He brings his wet fingers up to your lips, and you lazily allow them into your mouth, gently sucking them clean for him.

“How do you feel?” he asks, a warm smile on his lips. When you open your mouth to answer, a yawn is all that comes out, making him chuckle. “See? It always works. Come on,” he wraps you up tight in his arms, before getting to his feet, “let’s get you to bed.”

Though you want nothing more than to cozy up to sleep right now, you pout up at him.

“What about you?” you ask, hating the thought of leaving him without all the attention he showered you with. With a smirk, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t worry about me; as long as you’re ready for bed, I got what I came for,” he explains. He raises an eyebrow, grin turning mischievous as he adds, “And… I’m sure you’ll have time to make it up to me before we deploy in the morning.”

Giggling, you leaned up just far enough to give Hunter a soft kiss. He returns it happily, even as he carries you back to the elevator to make your return to the barracks.

“You know I’m good for it,” you hum. With a soft sigh, your eyes fall shut. “I love you, Hunter…”

Though you’re fading fast in his arms, you feel his lips on your head one last time.

“I love you, too, cyare.”

You’re asleep before the elevator doors can close behind you.

AN: Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed - pls tell me which was ur fav LOL I like them all for different reasons but I think Tech ASMR and Wrecker Hugs are my fav. And as always please lemme know if u see any tagging/formatting issues✨✨

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

Let you break my heart again - Anakin x Jedi reader

masterlist.

Author’s note: hi. so uh. yeah I got a little silly and decided to write angst again. and wrote more than I was aiming for but that’s okay LMAO— Also omg THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY SWISS FIC?? you’re the best <3 Other things to note: Revenge of the Sith era Anakin but Anakin and Padmé aren’t married (they’re courting/dating), reader is a Jedi and has had a crush on Anakin since like the beginning of time /j, reader is majorly jealous of Padmé

Warnings: ANGST, unrequited love, hurt/comfort, Anakin uses a derogatory word for droids, no pronouns used for reader

Word count: 2114 words

Propped against a wall, you saw Anakin enter the Jedi temple, looking a bit disheveled. But  you knew he had just returned from a mission with Obi-Wan, so maybe it went terribly wrong, maybe it went really well. 

You attempted to approach him, but Padmé had already beat you to it, like she always did. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw him hug her, longing to be in her place. Sadly, you knew it would never happen, with the looks they’d exchange with each other when they thought no one was watching. But you were. Finally, after what had seemed like forever, Padmé left to do her duties. You took this opportunity and rushed to him, your heart skipping a beat. “Hey.. how did it go?” You asked with a soft smile. Anakin nodded at you, then sighed. “Fine, I guess.. We didn’t really do much, just killed a bunch of clankers.” You caught yourself before making a face at him for using the derogatory word for droids; but you understood why he chose that word. 

“Well.. I mean, at least it was.. good practice?” You giggled a bit, trying to cheer him up. 

Anakin forced a light chuckle. “Yeah..” He said, looking off to the side, his mind somewhere else. You gave him a soft look. “Hey.. everything okay over there?” You asked kindly, your heart skipping a beat as he looked back at you. “No.. not really…” he admitted with a sigh. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the right words. “..thanks for asking, though.” He added sincerely. 

You furrowed your brows and studied his expression. “Hey, uh… do you want to go somewhere else and talk about it, perhaps?” You offered. 

He thought for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Yeah, I could use… someone to talk to...” 

“Alright, then. Wanna head to the library? It’s usually deserted at this hour..” You smiled at him, and Anakin perked up a little at the mention of it. “Yeah, actually… that’d be great.. there’s some new data I’ve been meaning to catch up on as well.” 

You two slowly made your way to the library, finding a table in the very back. Anakin sat down on one of the old worn out chairs, staring into the oblivion. “I feel… different..” He mumbled, almost to himself. “What’s wrong?” You sat down next to him, tilting your head and studying his expression. You waited a few seconds before speaking up. “..is it about Padmé?” You question. 

Anakin nodded. It was hard to explain, but he felt something. Something that both terrified him and excited him. 

“How did you know?” Anakin asked. “Ahah.. lucky guess?” You smiled, then giving him a sympathetic look. “..is she okay? Are you two okay?”

Anakin sighed. "Yeah... I think we are." He put his head down, leaning his arms on the table. 

“She's so beautiful…” Anakin whispered. “And she's smart.. And... caring... and... wonderful…”  Anakin trailed off, unknowingly breaking your heart with every word. “…You love her a lot… don’t you? Well, I bet my lightsaber she loves you a lot as well.” You tried to smile through the pain, asking the very question that could possibly break you, but you had to know. 

Anakin looked up at you, a look of uncertainty on this face. “No, it's not that. I love her… it's just... It’s hard to describe.” Anakin said. 

“But.. sometimes, I just feel like... I don't need this.” He looked away from you. 

“This… this whole Jedi… thing. I don’t know if I want to be a Jedi anymore.” Anakin whispered, his words dripping with emotion. “I want something different.” He said hesitantly, looking back at you. 

“…I see. What is it you want, exactly?” You whispered curiously. Anakin seemed to think for awhile. 

“I don't want the Jedi Order, that's for sure.” Anakin said. 

“I want freedom. I want... something... more. Something..." He trailed off. 

“I want to be happy.” Anakin finally said, almost as if it was a confession. “But I'm... afraid.” 

You nodded in understanding. You want freedom too, but not in the same way; you wanted to just be free from this unrequited love, to be free from this constant heartbreak…

“…why are you afraid?” You asked him softly. 

Anakin stared at the table in front of him. “I don’t know, it’s just… if I let go of this… this Jedi thing…” He said, the word ‘Jedi’ having a slight hint of hatred in it. “..I’m not sure if I can become anything else. But at the same time… I don’t want this.” He continued, looking like he was on the verge of tears.  

You nodded. “I understand. I really do..”

You so desperately wanted to reach out and hold Anakin's hand, to comfort him and tell him that everything will be okay as long as they have each other. But you couldn't. You weren’t Padmé.

“…I feel like I'm going insane…” Anakin whispered, his voice quiet and strained. He felt ashamed, but also somewhat relieved that he finally let it out. 

“Sometimes I even think... I even thought…” Anakin trailed off.

“Never mind.” He said with a sigh.

“Wait, no.. you can tell me.. I promise I won’t tell anyone..” You reassured him. 

He looked back up at you. “Sometimes… I have these… thoughts.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of thoughts?” You asked gently. 

“…Dark thoughts. Violent thoughts. Thoughts that could.. that could get me expelled from the Jedi Order.” Anakin finished, his voice strained. He looked at the table, and you did too. “…I see.” You finally reply, looking back up at him in sympathy. “…do you think it’ll affect you soon? Like…. You’re almost at your breaking point?” 

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know…” he answered. 

“I don’t know what I’m capable of..” He continued, his voice starting to shake. You notice him slowly, hesitantly reach his hand over the table and rest it on yours, his fingers trembling. 

You stared at your hand for a moment, then back at Anakin, feeling the pang in your heart again. Oh, if only he knew the pain he’d just caused… “Hey.. it’s okay, you’re strong… I know you can get through this. I know it.” You whispered to him, giving him a soft smile. 

Anakin leaned his head against the table, keeping his eyes shut. “Can you… can you do me a favor..?” He asked quietly. 

“Anything. Yeah.” You whispered immediately, ready to give your life for Anakin in a heartbeat if you were asked to do so. 

Anakin sighed. “Can... can you promise to stick with me? No matter what? Like a Jedi and his Padawan?” 

Anakin looked up at you. "Can... can you do that for me?" He asked. He looked like he was begging you for help.

You nodded. “Of course.. I’ll always be on your side, no matter what. I’ll always be here for you.” You whisper with a smile. Anakin looked up at you, tears starting to form in his eyes. “Thank you…” he whispered. 

A moment later Anakin embraced you in a tight hug, a feeling of relief washing over him. 

You tensed slightly, a blush forming on your face. The pang in your heart hit harder again, and you knew that this moment would haunt you forever. 

Nevertheless, you placed a hand gently on Anakin’s chest and wrapped your other arm around his waist, hugging him tighter. “Shh… don’t cry..” You whispered, hating to see him in pain even though you were probably hurting even more than he was. 

Anakin's words were muffled as he buried his head into your shoulder. It had been so long since someone had embraced him in a welcoming way. 

“I’m… I'm scared…” Anakin whispered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

You were the only thing grounding him to reality. 

“Hey, it’s okay… you’ll be okay.” You whispered reassuringly, rubbing Anakin’s back soothingly. The longer the two of you hugged, the more it hurt you. But you couldn’t understand it. Why were you feeling so much pain when he was showing you affection? Isn’t this what you wanted? 

Anakin lifted his head from your shoulder, looking back at you. He could feel his breath catching in his throat as he gazed into your eyes. Before he could even think, Anakin leaned in and softly kissed your lips. You could feel your cheeks get redder as he kissed you. Was this even real? You didn’t care; this was the happiest you’d ever been, almost as if you were in a trance. You kissed him back without hesitation, but then as quickly as the moment came, it was over; Anakin pulled away. Your eyes widened in realization as you snapped back into reality. Anakin seemed shocked as well, surprised by what he just did. “I….” He whispered, unsure of what to say. 

You looked at him in horror, thinking of what Padmé would do if she ever found out. 

“I… I’m sorry, I.. oh, no…” 

Not thinking straight, you quickly got up and ran away from the library, tears starting to blur your vision. 

“W-Wait! Come back!” Anakin called your name as he got up from the table, running after you. 

“J-Just leave me alone, Ani…” you pleaded as you covered your mouth with your hand, a sob escaping your lips. 

Anakin kept following you as you both raced down the halls, your footsteps echoing. Eventually he caught up with you and grabbed him by the shoulders. “No.. No, I won’t. Let me help you.” He said firmly as he took your hand and held it. “Please… you’re hurting me more than you realize..” You stared at him, tears starting to fall down your cheeks now. You wanted to pull your hand away, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to do so. 

“No, I want to be by your side. Through thick and thin,” Anakin said with a slight smile. “Padmé means a lot to me, but you... you are very special to me as well.” 

You looked away from him, taking in shaky breaths as more tears fell down your cheeks and you wiped them away before looking at him again. 

“Wait.. so… y-you don’t love Padmé?” You asked slowly. 

Anakin went red. “What? No no... I do love Padmé.” Anakin said, his voice getting a bit higher than he intended. Was he lying?

“But... I also love... I mean... uh…” Anakin was fumbling with his words. He wanted to say 'I love you,' but he didn't want to scare you. Anakin wasn't sure what he should do. He was stuck.

“Anakin.. don’t play games with me right now.” You pleaded. 

“Do you love me, or her?” You asked bluntly, tears still falling down your cheeks, your eyes turning puffy. 

Anakin took a deep breath.

“I… I choose... you.” Anakin said, looking at you.

For the first time since you had known each other, Anakin looked completely honest. He wasn't lying about anything. He looked at you with eyes of complete adoration.

"I choose... you." Anakin repeated.

You looked down at the ground, his words registering in your brain. “H-How do I know… you’re not lying to me right now to make me feel better?” 

Anakin took his fingers and lifted your gaze. “Look me in the eyes,” Anakin said, and you did.

“I’m not lying to you, and I never will.” He said with complete honesty. 

“You mean more to me than anyone in the galaxy.” Anakin's voice softened. "You are more important to me than even Padmé,” Anakin said, looking you right in the eye.

You looked at Anakin with a desperate expression, shaking your head. 

“Oh, Ani…” You whispered, and before you knew it, you’d placed your lips on his again, this time full of passion. 

Anakin wrapped his arms around you and kissed you back just as passionately as tears formed in his eyes. “I love you.” He whispered.

Hearing those words from Anakin’s lips melted your heart, and you felt tears forming in your eyes again, but this time from pure joy. 

“I love you too.. Oh, Ani.. I’ve waited so long to hear you say that..” You whispered back, kissing him again. 

Anakin kissed back, not wanting the moment to end. He embraced you as if you were the only thing holding him together. 

It was like a fairytale come true. 

Anakin finally felt happy. Really happy. He had you to thank for it, as well as his own courage to take a chance. 

And now, you were finally with the one you loved. 

[yourneighborhoodporg]

Hello! Could I request an obi wan x reader x anakin fic where the reader is a force sensitive Jedi? They have to go undercover for a mission and ani and obi are awestruck/distracted by reader in flattering clothes (that aren’t Jedi robes) and it makes them both realize their feelings :) feel free to make it a lemon if you want

Little Red Dress

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader x Anakin Skywalker

Warnings: Jealousy, Reader in Alluring Clothing, Brothel Setting, Some Life-Threatening Danger, Light Violence, Creepy(ish) Fella, Soft Smut (Minors DNI), all characters are over 18, Anakin Threatening Murder TM (why am I even surprised ��), light banter, fluff, alcohol is around, boys being worried, HEAVY FLIRTING.

Song Inspo: Red Dress — MAGIC!

A/n: This took me way too long to get to lol 💀 Absolutely love this request idea which made it so fun to write. Wasn’t sure which gender you wanted for the reader so I made them female-identifying. This is my first request and short (lol) fic so please let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :)

Words: 8.1k

She was built like a dream — Joseph Heller

Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker were… uncomfortable.

Not because Master Yoda himself had tasked the three of you with this urgent mission to the Outer Rim. Nor was it due to the cloudy, dark, and incessantly rainy atmosphere that was Morlana One’s Leisure Zone— its backstreets dotted by the occasional lifeless streetlight that just barely reflected off the puddles below, paving the two Jedi a glimmering path toward the local brothel.

No. It wasn’t any of that at all.

Instead, they felt a foreign existence within their own bodies, with each nearing step toward the club’s shadowy entrance, on account of the perplexing, and frankly alien, wears that sheened their limbs.

Of course, they never had any styling choice in the matter. Not for an assignment like this, where the elimination of Jedi symbols was expected.

Because this was a mission that required a gentler, more covert hand.

Because this was a mission that had you all undercover.

Nearly 72 hours ago, unknown assailants had broken into one of the Jedi Temple’s artifact rooms. From the emergency cache, they’d stolen seven Kyber crystals, which were always held at the ready in case a Jedi needed a temporary saber after damaging or misplacing their own.

A facility Anakin took advantage of too many times to count.

But, on this occasion, the Order could only count themselves lucky that The Chosen One had again somehow lost his lightsaber during a short mission to the Coruscant Underworld, requiring him to report to that very same artifacts chamber for a replacement before he could continue his search down into the planet’s murky depths. By chance, the chestnut-haired Jedi had arrived just in time to witness that the usually locked, ornate wooden door was notably ajar. And, with further investigation, that the krystals’ storage chest had been ransacked.

With Council Member Master Kenobi assigned to the inquiry, he quickly learned from a few trustworthy sources, including his old friend Dex, that the crystals were flown off-world to be sold at auction. To a seedy establishment in the Morlani System, no less. All with an undetectability and swiftness that duped not only the inter-District and planetary departure security systems, but the Jedi Temple’s once-thought-impregnable apparatus as well.

Evidently, Master Yoda had found that this operation met a sophistication not often seen among the ranks of disparate pirates or common thieves. It was why, after Kenobi came to him with this information, the Grand Master decided that the bearded man and Jedi Knight who discovered the robbery would be assigned to retrieve these precious artifacts. Placing an emphasis on the need to arrive undercover, lest this sordid enterprise catch wind of a group of creeping, saber-wielding Jedi.

They just couldn’t risk it.

Any action like that would certainly force this gang to race underground once again, crystals in tow, before the Jedi had a chance to recover them.

So, the Council supplied Obi-Wan and Anakin with clothes of the region’s elite, aiming to disguise them both as potential buyers.

Kenobi, a black dress uniform with gold, reflective embellishments suffocating his suit jacket while fueling his growing desire to remain hidden within the shadows as it converted his torso into a glinting beacon under the passing lights. And Skywalker, a simpler, but equally sophisticated gray suit atop a pearly white button-down that screamed conformity louder than Anakin could voice his displeasure.

Still, leaving the crystals’ fate up to whether this gang would accept Republic Credits was a game of pure chance. That, and the notion of buying back stolen, sacred property was never the Jedi way.

That’s where you came in.

A Jedi whose Force-sensitivity was so saturated, that you had the ability to viscerally sense Kyber crystals from parsecs away. And a talent that, in Master Yoda’s opinion, made you the perfect addition to the team.

Well, that and the open secret that the three of you had long ago become an unofficial squadron already. Considering the countless missions you’ve traipsed through together for most of your Jedi, and even Padawan, years, it was a wonder that Master Yoda felt the need to specifically mention your name either way. Even on missions in which the rag-tag trio were slingshotted to opposite poles of the galaxy, you’d always found a way back to each other.

That, or the Force itself had a dire motivation to keep those momentary separations brief.

Perhaps that’s why the two men, in addition to their clothing-related distractions, had sparking nerves heightened by another, salient factor.

That you weren’t by their side.

Given your skill set, it was clear from the beginning your cover needed to be quite different from theirs. So, twenty hours before the auction was set to start, while Obi-Wan and Anakin prepared their disguises, you slipped out. Leaving for the brothel on your own since you all agreed that the only way to secure your cover as an establishment employee was by actually applying to become one.

It was the only surefire way to explore the back rooms without tipping the sellers off. The only option the three of you had to find the crystals’ exact location. And to ensure that when chaos did reign, the artifacts wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire.

Still, neither man particularly enjoyed this arrangement.

“You remembered to bring it, correct?” Obi-Wan voiced, glancing at Anakin’s pensively taught brows beside him as the brothel’s neon purple sign gently flickered into view, encouraging him to once again tug at his neckline’s taught clasp around his throat.

“Of course!” The younger Jedi acknowledged. “I was the one telling her that she should’ve had it in the first place.”

In spite of the underlying weariness still thrumming at his chest, Kenobi couldn’t help but raise an amused brow at his former Padawan.

“You? Lecturing Y/n about leaving her lightsaber behind? I seem to recall that it was your inability to keep track of your own that landed us in this predicament in the first place.”

Anakin scoffed, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And I seem to remember Master Nu saying that the raid on the artifacts room wouldn’t have been discovered for weeks if it weren’t for me.”

Still, the chestnut-haired Jedi sighed, yanking down the tails of his gray suit jacket that just barely fit his longer form while he continued.

“Besides, it was no mistake. She didn’t take her lightsaber intentionally.”

Kenobi shook his head knowingly. Partly due to his former Padawan’s somewhat warped perspective of the situation, but mostly because he too was not completely on board with the notion of you being undercover and completely unarmed. Though, no matter how much he desired to do so, Obi-Wan had trouble denying that, like always, your reasoning stood sound.

A reminder that subconsciously made his heart flutter.

“You know, Anakin, that she couldn’t have feasibly hidden it away. It’s safer for her that we hold onto it for now. She will have it when she needs it.”

And that’s why, no matter his outward assurances, Kenobi seemed to have an inability to take his own advice. Perhaps too it was Anakin’s own anxieties that were infecting the Force.

But no leakage from his signature could truly reflect the hate Skywalker felt for this plan. He had shot down its premise the whole journey here, but in the end, it was no use. Anakin understood that once you put your mind to something, especially in the name of protecting the community you held so dear, there was nothing anyone in the Galaxy could do to stand in your way.

And he really did treasure you for that.

“I know,” Skywalker grumbled, pivoting to avoid a stumbling Bith with a curved bottle in hand, brown liquid sloshing out to land just beside his black dress shoe as he walked by. “But I still don’t like it.”

Evidently, no matter their confidence in your ability to take care of yourself, the two men remained deeply troubled by the fact that you were still far enough away as to be immune from their protection.

But that would soon change.

“Alright,” Kenobi slowed just beside the establishment’s greasy, revolving door to address the younger man as they neared their arrival.

“We will need to remain in one place so that Y/n can find us. She needs to know where we are at all times to deliver the signal. The zone’s blueprints suggest that the center bar will have the best vantage point. So that’s where we’ll go. Oh—“

Obi-Wan lifted a warning brow at the younger man.

“And don’t stray.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, lips pursing in an attempt to keep his face neutral.

“I don’t stray, Master.”

—

If you had your portable chronometer on your person, you would’ve checked it by now.

About fifteen minutes, you’d been waiting a handful of meters from the brothel’s storage room, disguised by the far corner tables nestled within the establishment’s shadowy edges. Marking it the perfect locale for distant observers of the night’s entertainment— or idly spying Jedi. Fifteen minutes since Krissa, a now fellow employee, shuffled into that very same room to collect a few crates of Fizzbrew for the opening bar. Nearly twenty hours after you’d secured employment as what the owner lovingly called a “Friendly Dancer.”

Luckily, it was during that same interview that you’d caught the colorful, Force-illuminated trail, leading your attuned senses to this secured back room, like a bloodhound to its prey.

Or a Jedi to her Kyber crystals.

Yet, despite your carefully chosen cover, both assumed identity and dark corner camouflage, you still had a nagging feeling that your specially selected ‘employee uniform’ wasn’t doing you any furtive favors.

Besides the strikingly crimson, skin-gripping short dress that clad your hips, the black, shimmering fishnet stockings and translucent platform heels were sure to draw some unwanted attention during a time in which invisibility was your best friend.

But you had no choice. If you had any hope of maintaining your cover and completing your mission, you had to work with what you were given.

So, for now, one of these rusted-over, ash stools would need to serve their purpose— concealing you from the trickling in throng’s broad perspectives as you kept a peripheral lock on that steel door’s sturdy frame. One by one, hungry bidders with puffy, expensive coats and sparkling wears thickened the atmosphere, all while you hoped Krissa would quicken her exit via the locked door so that you could slip in.

It was moments like these that you’d wished you had your lightsaber. At least then, you could’ve cut through the heavy, metal barrier all on your own.

But, alas, this was a mission of stealth. And you’d be damned to put either Obi-Wan or Anakin in danger because of your impatience.

Causing you to, once more, question their absence.

“Boys, boys. Where are you boys…” you hummed lowly to yourself.

Glancing toward the billowing crowd, you grew remiss at their absence. It was easy to recall how both Jedi were particularly against your decision to immerse yourself into this environment, alone and unarmed. So much so, that you assumed they would’ve arrived by now. An observation that forced you to consider how this mission was sure to sour quick were you required to act without backup.

You shook that thought out of your mind almost as immediately as it arrived.

Obi-Wan and Anakin would always appear when you needed them most.

And you adored them for that.

That, among the litany of elements that drew you into their lives in the first place.

Your first mission together was but a sapling in the times you were to share. Memories, little moments, and fleeting glances recently coalesced into the singular realization that you’d fallen in love with two of the most powerful Jedi the Galaxy has to offer.

But they were just that. Jedi.

And so were you.

So no matter your unquestionable feelings for the men, there was nothing you could do. Putting aside that you doubted any emotional reciprocation, you were sure too that they’d never break the Jedi code for you.

And that left you to again drag yourself back from those innermost thoughts to focus on the situation at hand. Specifically, your conclusion that any dearth left in Obi-Wan and Anakin’s wake would mean nothing of consequence if you couldn’t get into that storage room.

Luckily, there was no need to wait much longer.

Krissa shoved open the door, using her back to thrust it the rest of the way with a crate of clinking, dark green bottles swirling in her arms. Fluttering lilac dress flowing by her legs as her eyes landed on your surveilling form.

Kriff.

“Hey!” She scream whispered, brows stitched in reprimand while she leaned toward you. “You’re gonna get fired before you’ve even had a chance to work if you keep hiding from paying customers.”

You smiled sheepishly, playing into her assumption as you ‘stumbled’ to your feet.

“I’m so sorry,” you mouthed, ambling toward the older woman while lifting a hand to ripple through the force floating by her eyes.

You spoke lowly.

“You want me to help you bring out those crates.”

“I want you to help me bring out these crates,” she parroted in a glazed-over daze, arm catching the steel door just before it shut to allow you entry.

You nodded to her thankfully, even though she had no choice in the matter, before pushing your way past the chilly aperture, entering the stuffy storage room while the door slammed shut behind you.

Speedily, you surveyed the cramped compartment, stacked and spread to the ceiling with a strange concoction of alcohol-filled crates, charcoal cargo containers, and draped artifacts that evinced the basement of a museum far more than a brothel’s back room.

But you didn’t really give it a second thought. If you didn’t want to get caught, then there was no time to ponder aesthetics.

Quickly, as your eyes fluttered closed, you allowed the Force to thicken your blood, treating your body and mind like a living, breathing compass in its guide to connect you with your True North—

The seven missing Kyber crystals.

With vision consumed by blackness, you dodged each precariously placed box and every outstretched figurine that threatened to obstruct your path as your senses drew you a detailed map toward the back wall. Almost like a pulsing beacon, you felt the heat of your connection to the sacred artifacts deepen, warming your more-than-usually exposed skin. Intensifying with each, deliberate step. Until it reached a fiery blaze so extravagant that one stride further would’ve certainly lit you alight.

You opened your eyes.

“Hey!” A deep voice called from behind you, triggering your heels to spin around toward the sudden sound, and away from the loosely sealed cargo container whose subtle, yet familiar, blue shine confirmed your senses.

Swiftly, you absorbed the older man’s ruffly peppered beard and chilled brown eyes as his head poked past the slightly ajar steel door, barely masked snarl contorting his lips.

“I don’t pay you to ogle the merchandise! Get out there and mingle,” he continued, jutting a thumb to the club’s main room to his rear.

You leapt to your feet, making a mental note of the crystals’ location while scurrying toward the owner who seemed to have somehow grown at least one more gray hair since your interview with him.

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, twisting to get by his form against the door and entering onto the main floor before turning back toward him. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” he huffed, swiveling to catch the shutting door with his foot before leaning down to retrieve something from behind it.

Still, his muffled voice echoed beyond the subsequent shuffling.

“You’re assisting tonight, and I want high bids. So get out there and make them like you.”

You nodded complacently, already prepared to whip around and follow his orders until the older gentleman reemerged with another case of green bottles cradled under his arm.

“And here,” he shoved the crate, obliging you to catch it somewhat unexpectedly with opened palms.

“Take this to the bar.”

—

“I don’t like this…” Anakin droned during his casual stroll toward Obi-Wan’s side, a glass of orange fizzy liquid held inconspicuously before his lips.

Kenobi was leaning against the bar, his cup of whatever was on tap cradled between his fingers yet clearly untouched. Instead, the subtly troubled Jedi’s attentive eyes continued their periodic scan of the barely lit brothel. Flitting past the pockets of gold-illuminated tabled alcoves and dark blue paneling, his eyes weaved through the voluminous throng. One that featured intimately quiet mumblings among extravagantly suited clientele and gorgeously draped employees.

It wasn’t hard for him to surmise the highest paying customers from the number of brothel workers who’d hang from their arms, clearly on the job.

Smiling at each of their glances. Laughing at every joke…

Kenobi wasn’t daft.

He clearly understood the expectations a club like this had for its staff. At the least, for those who mingled with the bidders before the show. He’d only hoped that with whatever position you’d acquired for your cover at this establishment, it wasn’t pressing you to do much of the same.

And no matter how illogical it sounded in his mind, he still didn’t want to see that.

Moreover, it seemed to be a thought that equally disturbed Anakin, as his gentle thrums of anxious musing stained the Force, gradually amplifying since both Jedi had yet to locate you.

The younger Jedi had always been protective of you, Obi-Wan excused, unbeknownst that Skywalker was making much of the same defense. Though for the chestnut-haired Jedi, it was more the self-justification that he was a protective person in general. And that this was nothing more than only that.

Just Anakin being Anakin.

“I’m confident she’ll turn up soon, Anakin.”

The younger man expressly sighed, permitting a brief beat to pass as a spring of laughter ricocheted by his ears from a nearby dancer. Waiting for it to die down with bated breath before angling to respond.

“What if she didn’t get the job? She might be trying to find a different way in right now.”

Obi-Wan had no need for reaching out to the Force in order to confidently answer that inquiry.

“She succeeded. Trust me, I’d know otherwise.” He hummed, raising his glass to just barely grace his lips, but never daring to take a sip and weaken his awareness. “However, should they not show soon, I am considering they may have been apprehended.”

Similarly, Anakin vehemently shook his head. He even permitted a wry chuckle to escape past those formerly parched lips before confidently responding to the Jedi Master’s statement.

“No way. If Y/n got caught, she’d send us a signal the second she felt us near.”

Skywalker’s confident air faltered.

“Well,” he shrugged nervously. “Assuming she’s not injured.”

Obi-Wan shot his former Padawan a disapproving glare.

Until his attention was suddenly grasped by a warm, comforting hand sliding across his shoulder.

“Is this what you boys do when I’m not around? Theorize about my potential failings?”

The two men spun toward you, catching the playful smirk consuming your features before their eyes were tugged down like an anchor to trail your stunningly sheathed body, almost as if it was the first time they’d ever laid eyes upon you.

It would be an understatement to state that absorbing this captivating sight had coerced their jaws into forgetting their primary function.

The low-cut style of your short, curving red dress. The fishnet stockings that stretched down your thighs and softly clasped your high-heeled feet. The sparkling, green gemmed earrings that perfectly brought out your plump, red lipstick and long lashes. And, most noticeably, your loose, flowing hair that they’d only ever seen tied back for battle, now resting lushly across your bare shoulders like a still-life statue.

It wasn’t a side of you either men had the pleasure of observing before. And, if given the chance, they’d challenge whichever entity had so long sealed this wonderful sight from their burning eyes to a duel.

One that such an unjust creature was sure to regret.

It was a kind of fairy tale notion that both men pondered instantly once they felt a bubbling heat swarm their countenance when faced by your visual power.

So much so, that Anakin couldn’t help but break the brief lull as his suddenly dried mouth reached down his throat for an audible, and undoubtedly embarrassing, cough as he scratched his nose to try to hide himself.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coping much better. The Master Negotiator had lost all concept of Basic, its vocabulary, grammar, and everything in between as his mind was only filled with your enticing image, your pleasantly exposed skin, and the touch of your fingers to his body.

Until it was too soon gone.

Your hand fell thoughtlessly to your side, head cocking with lifted brows before speaking.

“You can close your mouths. It was just a joke.”

But it was Kenobi who first gathered the confidence to respond.

“Um, you look—“

“Lemme guess. Ravishing? The night’s main treat?” You relayed sarcastically while heaving down a large crate of clinking bottles atop the bar, one that both men only just now noticed before you whipped back toward the still stunned Jedi, drawing their gaze center.

“I’ll have it known that the distance between the storage room and the bar is a mere fifteen-second walk and I’ve already heard it all—“

“…like an angel,” Anakin muttered, not even himself realizing that he’d said that aloud.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly as you felt your heart skip a beat, sending an unexpected tingle to the root of your gut before sheepishly smiling at the deepening flush of the chestnut-haired man.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, tensely eyed his former Padawan.

“Okay, that one’s new,” you admitted, gaze trailing away to conceal your unpreparedness for such an unexpectedly sweet comment.

Ironically, it was at that moment that your wandering stare settling beyond Anakin’s shoulder abruptly caught a familiar, peppered beard. Accompanied by terse, beady eyes that scowled at you from a far wall with the intensity of a lodestar.

You had a decision to make.

But, really, was there a choice at all?

Obi-Wan would catch on, you thought.

Though, no matter how well Kenobi did understand the requirements of your cover, he still certainly wasn’t expecting you to, in a millisecond, swiftly stride toward his bewildered form to wrap your warm arms around his neck.

Immediately, despite the quickening of his thrumming heart latching onto his Adam’s apple, Obi-Wan raised his usually firm hands to gently clasp at your forearms, being sure to send you a questioning glance as he smoothly played along.

But under all that, and although he was still unsure why, deep down Kenobi secretly hoped that such a quizzical gesture hadn’t encouraged you to subsequently pull away. For some reason, he despised the thought of influencing you to forgo remaining this close to him.

So close, that he could feel the tickle of your breath across his chin.

Thankfully, though, his innermost prayer seemed to have been answered.

“Sorry,” you whispered, conveying an outwardly flirting expression of perked lips and a tilted head.

There were very few people in the Galaxy capable of reading the subtle apologetic shine of your eyes that deeply stared into his. An invisible utterance that remained firm while you briefly freed one hand to beckon over a confounded, and secretly peeved, Anakin who stood just behind his former Master, before you grasped his loose hand and tugged him forward with a terribly fake laugh.

Soon, you rested the younger Jedi’s arm on your lower back, securing its nervously flaccid form around your waist while Skywalker’s face transformed into a brand new shade of crimson once he discovered the dress’s open back.

A clearly readable reaction that deepened Kenobi’s hesitation with his former Padawan’s proximity to you. And while his mind struggled to connect the dots on why he continued to experience these strange bouts of discomfort, too distracted to truly pin down these sensations, Kenobi still felt fueled by Anakin’s expression to nudge you a little closer into his own chest.

If that was even possible.

Paying no mind to the sudden action, you addressed both men, giving a particular glance to Anakin who seemed to be the most caught off-guard of the two of them.

“The brothel’s owner made it very clear that if I don’t ’mingle’ with the customers, trouble will come my way.”

And that made the former slave’s blood boil.

“I’ll kill him.”

“No, you won’t,” you punctuated, temporarily removing your other arm from Obi-Wan to privately rest on Anakin’s balmy cheeks, caressing them down to draw his eyes to your level as he too struggled to fight off the festering heart attack that threatened to crack his rib, and deepened the sudden feeling of emptiness in Kenobi’s chest. “Because we have one mission here, and it’s to retrieve those stolen crystals. And I’m not losing my chance to snatch them away due to your needless protectiveness. I’m quite capable on my own.”

“What do you mean?” Kenobi inquired, taking this opportunity to regain some realm of confidence before snaking his arms around your waist and tugging you toward him with a roughness that would easily read as greedy to anyone who happened to be looking that way.

Still, the unexpected suddenness of his movement set the nerves in your face on fire. No matter, you played into the act, falling into his chest with fingers gripping onto the lapels of his oddly sparkly jacket.

“Um,” you swallowed, regathering your thoughts with a blink. “I’m assisting tonight. Meaning that I’ll be showcasing each item while they’re bid upon.”

You hummed to yourself while considering this new stroke of luck. A sudden vibration against Obi-Wan’s chest that you hadn’t realized sent a fresh, nervous chill down his arms as he held your mystifying figure, encouraging subtly wandering eyes to drink in the sight once more while his unsteady heart began to churn his innermost thoughts.

It was in that same moment that Anakin first caught onto his former Master’s charade, having finally glimpsed an equal measure of voraciousness within his distracted, blue orbs. Something that stoked Anakin’s frustration that began anew with each moment Kenobi drew you closer to himself.

“I say we don’t waste the credits,” you commented, refocusing both Jedi’s attention. “The minute I have the crystals in hand, I’ll send you a signal, and we’ll dash out of here.”

Obi-Wan leaned into you, forehead mere centimeters from yours as a spoke lowly. And for some reason, you thought, with noticeably erratic breath.

“That’s extremely risky.”

“Well, you have my lightsaber. Don’t you?” You challenged with a lift of your lips.

Suddenly, a trail of warm fingers raked up into your hair, sending quite an unexpected chill down your back once they clutched around a bunch and somewhat needily rotated your head toward Anakin’s expectant face. Yanking your body more forcefully before soon feeling his strong arm catch your side.

“I have it,” he spoke lowly.

And in spite of how desperately he tried to keep his eyes connected with yours, he couldn’t help that split second in which they sparsely flitted toward your perfectly tinted lips.

An action you apparently missed for your focus on the mission at hand.

But a gesture that contorted Obi-Wan’s lips into a perpetual frown as his mind caught up with his frothing feelings.

“Good,” you expressed. “Then I’ll have it when it’s needed.”

While your eyes remained focused and thoughtful, half a mind on playing up your cover with the other half on those crystals, Anakin had trouble keeping his eyes from once more wandering downwards.

The feel of your red-draped body against his, the closeness of your bared upper chest and noticeable cleavage, the sparkle of your eyes that comparably made your bright earrings look like clumps of coal.

Though not fully, Anakin was beginning to understand what was going on in his chest to draw his signature into such a volatile temper. Mostly because he couldn’t help himself when one hand released from your soft hair to trail down your exposed back, the other palm brushing upwards from your flank to meet the other side as he briefly traced the outline of your shoulder blades.

All of which sent a lightning bolt of cold heat right up to your head and down toward your sensitively tingling toes before he inched you toward him with the press of his fingertips while he whispered.

“Obi-Wan is right. I don’t think we should take the risk. But just in case you need it…”

Slowly, he retrieved a hand, raking it over your shoulder and feeling every inch of your arm while his mind cleared. The chestnut-haired man’s swelling eyes traced the enticing experience until he reached your hand. And with feigned gravitas clouding his features, he carefully guided your hand beneath his suit jacket, dragging it just along his warm back until you felt a cold metal resting beside his tailbone.

“…you know where it is.”

What was happening?

That was the main question you were asking yourself.

Were both Obi-Wan and Anakin just really amazing actors when the moment required it? You’d certainly never seen such a talent from either of them before. Yet the sudden naturalness, the near familiarity with which each Jedi pulled and held you close? The intimate touches and long glances while this secret meeting proceeded?

You weren’t sure what changed between twenty hours ago and now. Yet, in your core, you knew a part of your brain didn’t want it to stop.

No.

You were a Jedi. You were all Jedi. Committed to a code.

You must’ve been reading this wrong. Feelings that you knew you’d long held for the men had once again clouded your judgment.

Meanwhile, the growing tension between the two Jedi had heightened to a noticeable degree. But with your mind focused seemingly on other matters, it was only just to each other.

“You? Not wanting to be reckless?” You stated, attempting to suffocate your rushing nerves with a confident smirk. “Are you sure I’m speaking with Anakin Skywalker or do we have an imposter in our midsts?” You chuckled. “Oh, and agreeing with Obi-Wan?” You added, raising a brow.

This time, it was Master Kenobi who felt a fire erupt through his veins while his thoughts solidified.

It was you.

You who were making him feel such a way.

Ever and always.

On every mission and in each universal moment, it was you who made the Jedi Master take pause as his heart skipped a beat in your presence.

Master Kenobi was even more firm in this belief: that he was quite finished with watching Anakin cradle you in his arms for any longer. That, and the growing desire fueled by this new angle permitting Obi-Wan to graze over your open back’s supple skin with his eyes, drained him of all his decades-long self-control in an instant.

He needed to do something about that

Reaching a warm hand to the closest corner of your waistline, and with a little nudge from the Force on the other side, Obi-Wan tugged you right into his arms.

You felt the imperceptible, tiny scratches of his sequined suit jacket and the heat barely underneath sprawl across your back while his palms meandered up your sides and down each arm, soon folding them across you as he enveloped you against himself.

This time, you truly couldn’t help the light, crimson blush that bloomed across your cheeks. Especially when Kenobi chose this opportune time to gradually lean into your shoulder, chin dipping so that his lips hung mere centimeters from your attentive ear before whispering a warning with a tone warmer than you were used to hearing from the Master Negotiator.

Especially in the middle of a mission.

“You should listen to him.”

Still, despite feeling the ravenous desire to take a calming breath and smooth your hammering heartbeat, you held firm, responding to his inquiry with an overpowering confidence that usually settled any score when the three of you were having a disagreement.

At the same time, having just noticed the brothel owner’s decision to push off his far wall perch to approach, you decided to also strike a grin, raising a flirtatious brow over your shoulder at Obi-Wan’s unreadably dark eyes while you spoke, maintaining your cover.

“No. The plan stands. Trust me, there’s no need to worry.”

But, unexpectedly for you, witnessing your visually claimed figure in Obi-Wan’s arms barking out orders all while clad in that tiny red dress ignited a fierce burning passion in Anakin to challenge you back as he too decided to make his thoughts known.

Through his words and with his hands.

Taking one powerful stride to stand directly before your toes, the younger man just barely graced your bottom lip to seize your chin, lifting it upwards and twisting you to meet his wanting, blue gaze. Compelling your bright, widening eyes to wonder once more whether the lines between fiction and reality were beginning to blur.

Your breath hitched.

“Gentlemen!” The owner exclaimed, sliding next to Obi-Wan and Anakin to place a performative pat on both their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re enjoying one of our new hires, but I’m afraid that I’ll need to borrow her for the rest of the auction. We are about to begin.”

Wordlessly, both Jedi released their respective grips on you, sharing between themselves an unamused glance above your head while you ambled toward the owner. Never breaking your own, painfully forged smile.

But that seemed to be enough to convince the quite older owner that all was set to begin, as he swiftly turned on his heel toward the brothel’s far podium, motioning for you to follow his trail.

You promptly obliged, yet not before sending one quick, yet quiet, last word with a twist of your head toward the Jedi who begrudgingly stayed behind with crossed arms or a clenched beard.

“Wait for my signal.”

—

“I’m not stupid, you know,” Anakin commented idling by Kenobi’s side.

The two men continued their observations of the auction since it began half an hour ago, their eyes rarely drifting away from the rather cramped, rickety stage while you traveled from side to side, displaying each item with deliciously attractive poise. Presently, you were exhibiting an old, handheld marble statue modeled after a female Twi’lek. And although other patrons regarded the item with interest, the two Jedi meant to be watching your back for any danger had their minds on other matters.

Anakin couldn’t keep his eyes off your sensually pacing legs, while Obi-Wan could barely remain still with your elegant, tightly wrapped hips moving to and fro.

“I hear 2,000 credits! 2,000 credits. Do I hear 2,100?”

Master Kenobi readjusted his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “I know. I don’t believe I’ve said otherwise.”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you want Y/n.”

The bearded Jedi whipped his head from the stage as he addressed the seemingly jealous, younger man. And for the first time in a very long time, Obi-Wan began to feel those same, envious emotions with equal strength, like he’d caught some psychic disease from the blue-eyed Jedi’s glance alone.

“2,100! Do I hear 2,200? 2,200 folks, for this ancient artifact of an unknown Ryloth civilization!”

“And?” He acknowledged nonchalantly, taking an assertive stance while he found comfort in the memory of you in his arms. “And what if I do?”

Anakin’s lips formed a thin line, the image of your parted, shocked lips when he caught your dressed figure perfuming his thoughts. “Then you wouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kenobi stated sarcastically before raising a rather annoyed brow.

“Going once! Going twice!”

“What are you gonna do?” Anakin mumbled.

Skywalker had to ask the question. Even though he’d already confirmed in his mind that no matter what, no matter if Master Kenobi felt the same, that he’d give you the chance of knowing that there was more than one.

Obi-Wan answered simply. “I’m planning on telling her.”

“Sold! To the fellow in the orange top hat on the right!”

Because through the older Jedi’s musings, Kenobi was arriving at a similar conclusion. That if you in any way felt the same, he’d at least give you a choice.

“I assume you’ll be doing the same?” He continued.

“Yes.” Anakin sighed, eyes returning to the stage just as you remerged with an old, raggedy yet sealed box held tightly in your hands. “And what if she can’t decide?”

Obi-Wan followed the young Jedi’s line of sight, subconsciously licking his lips as the fabric of your tight, red dress pulsed his blood and slackened his jaw.

“Then we do what we must…”

The bearded Jedi swallowed.

Hard.

“…we help her.”

A rallying spark flung through the Force, filling both Jedi’s senses as they were wrenched from the momentary, visual distraction that was your ravishingly dressed person.

There was no way to deny it. Your pointed expression? Your readied stance?

The signal had just been fired.

Reaching for their respective lightsabers hung inconspicuously at the belt, both Jedi swiftly whipped their weapons out into the open, igniting a collective blue glow that provided enough of a shockingly, eye-catching distraction for you to leap from the stage, box in hand, without much recourse.

Then came the blasters.

As if emerging like shadows from the establishment’s dark corners, a sporadic group of armed men dressed like well-to-do pirates began their determined assault. Coloring the air with orange beams while the crowd scattered, hurried screams and the groans of abruptly shuffling furniture echoing off the walls.

You bolted for the Jedi, triggering both to somersault toward you while they attempted to block any bolt that you nearly failed to dodge before landing at either flank. Thankfully, that provided the chance to fling a searching arm beneath Anakin’s suit jacket, grasping your saber from its warm habitat before yanking it out into the open to launch its green luminescence.

“Go!” Obi-Wan cried, deflecting another round of bolts from your rear while the two men encircled you like a living, breathing barrier.

“We’ll hold them off!” Anakin agreed, flinging a badly aimed bolt toward a now broken and sparking light fixture above before facing you. “Get back to the ship!”

You glanced at both men, making clear your uncertainty and reluctance through the Force as, even with your aid, the gentle perspires of their efforts became noticeable.

But it was their turn to stay firm.

“Now! We’ll be right behind you!” Obi-Wan strictly assured.

So, with the box of crystals secured tightly beneath one arm and your saber effectively defending against the coming onslaught with the other, you decided to, for once, follow the boys’ instructions as you bolted for the exit, and out the brothel’s door.

And, with their hearts already racing, both Jedi had to do their best not to focus on your distracting wears as they paved a path to race after you.

—

Leaping through the red and white Nu-class shuttle’s rear hatch the instant it opened wide enough to do so was enough to coerce out an instant sigh of relief as your feet landed on the metal floor, drawing you deeper into the bird’s belly. Naturally, after regaining some bearings in the familiarity of the ship, you felt secure enough to set the relatively sturdy box of Kyber crystals atop a nearby ledge before turning to assess the situation behind you.

You already sensed that Anakin and Obi-Wan had stuck close to your heels during the entire escape, sabers twirling with elegant control against any threatening phaser until you strayed far enough beyond the brothel’s preview to lose any potential tails. So you weren’t surprised to find both men maintaining a similarly brisk pace while speeding up the ramp seconds after your arrival. Sabers long ago clipped back at their sides with Obi-Wan leading the way, leaving Skywalker in charge of closing the now slowly rising hatch.

What you weren’t expecting, however, was that the overpowering determination emanating from the bearded Jedi’s face had not in the least bit lessened since he entered the craft. Quickly, yet smoothly, he shed his gaudy suit jacket, tossing it unceremoniously to the side as he subsisted his approach.

In fact, the slight narrowing of those blue eyes, an expression you’d only seen in the occasional sparring session, remained forwardly focused. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was charging right for you, an action itself that compelled you to perplexedly speak while his brown boots closed that ever-shrinking distance.

“What are you—“

Warm lips smashed against yours, moving hungrily yet delicately while Obi-Wan’s sturdy arms snaked around your waist to gently tug you into himself.

Your heart nearly stopped, and from the tingling, tiny explosions erupting at each and every nerve ending alone, you felt yourself fall into the momentum, arms raising with the certainty of a choreographed dance to cradle Obi-Wan’s head and run your fingers through his soft, auburn locks.

Whether consciously or not, his grip on you tightened, straining your breath before you had the unavoidable need to be even closer to him. You intensified the kiss, drawing his plump, reddened lips into slow and steady locks, only for them to release with the duration of a clap before you both deeply met each other again with needy swiftness.

It felt like hours, but it had been mere seconds since the instant his body met yours. Still, the two of you reluctantly pulled away from each other. Mostly to catch much-needed breaths from the pure, unadulterated shock of it all.

Master Kenobi held you still as your gaze graced over his flushed features, including that slightly tussled hair and darkened eyes that diverted from their usual bright sparkle. Especially when they flitted from your surprised orbs, to your plump lips, and back again.

But no matter this pleasing diversion, still, out of the corner of your eye, you were forced to notice Anakin— standing in the far corner in quiet observation, and chillingly reminding you of where you were and what important rules both you and his former Master had certainly just broken in his presence.

What made it all worse, though, was that for the life of you, you could not read the younger man’s expression. Apparently, he had just stood there, arms crossed once the shuttle door was secured and simply… watched? Impassively?

No, that couldn’t be right.

Then, he pushed off the wall.

Anakin’s arms fell to the side as he gradually approached you both, brows tightening into what looked like a slightly angrier cross that ran your brain into overdrive. You were still having trouble discerning his emotions through the Force, but could only make an educated guess that he was beyond frustrated that the two beings closest to him had just broken the Jedi Code.

And, also because, he didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to what Obi-Wan did, making you sadly doubt that he’d ever feel the same way you’d always felt for the chestnut-haired man and his former Master.

So, no matter how right it felt, how much you wanted it, you knew that it was time for some damage control.

“Obi-Wan…” you took a deep, shaky breath, nerves still firing at every end while your stare stood firmly on Obi-Wan’s wanting expression, Anakin nearing your side.

You loosely exhaled.

“Where did that—“

Hot moisture met your neck, Anakin’s wet lips attacking its side and extracting a startled gasp from your lungs as your eyes fluttered closed. Greedily, he cupped your throat to softy tug you toward him, draining your arms into a state of perpetual pliability from the pleasant heat filling your chest.

They slid, soon falling from Obi-Wan’s body entirely before you angled toward the younger Jedi and shakily twisted them around his shoulders for support. Another weak sigh escaped past your lips once you felt Anakin’s teeth graze across a sensitive spot as the weakening kisses continued, an action which only seemed to encourage the younger Jedi considering he returned to that spot with more fervor, sucking it dry until your jaw slackened.

Still, no matter how dazed your mind had become in this last minute of chaos, you just couldn’t believe this was happening.

It had to be a mistake, right? Was something else wrong?

Something must have happened.

Regathering your senses, you quickly pulled away from Anakin, feeling the resistance of your initial jerk snap Anakin from his equally influenced status as he quickly tried to give you space.

“Are you ok??” He asked rapidly, eyes seeping wide-eyed worry and flickers of guilt while Obi-Wan, who was initially calmly analyzing the show, too shifted to share a similarly concerned expression.

“Yes, of course,” you aired, still slightly out of breath as you stared confoundedly at the two men. “I’m fine Anakin, but what is going on? This is coming out of nowhere.” You shook your head. “Were the two of you drugged or something?”

“In a sense, I suppose we were,” Obi-Wan answered nonchalantly.

You raised a brow.

“Y/n,” Anakin uttered, drawing your eyes toward his. “Obi-Wan and I realized something back there during the mission. Something it looks like we both kinda knew for a while but didn’t really understand until now.”

Master Kenobi’s eyes raked across your figure once more while he spoke. “I saw you there, we saw you, truly, for the first time. And I lost my breath.”

You melted at his words.

“All I saw was pure beauty and you, and I couldn’t tell the difference,” Anakin spoke disjointedly, nearly making you giggle. “And I knew that seeing you like this, in this way, I couldn’t wait any longer. We couldn’t wait. We needed to tell you.”

“Tell me?” You asked breathily, preparing yourself for whatever was to come next.

“That we desire you,” Obi-Wan barely whispered, fluttering your stomach. “That you are more important to us than ancient statutes. And we determined that you must know so that you may decide if you wish it.”

You shuttered, worries of the Code fading into nothingness while the two men before you consumed your senses. “Decide?”

Anakin stared at you, a pleading glint in his eyes as he spoke gently.

“Which one of us you want back.”

Your still heavy breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet air. Characteristic of the thoughts rattling against your buzzed skull before a throaty mutter made its way past your teeth.

“I can’t…”

You watched while their faces deflated at your words.

“We understand, Y/n,” Obi-Wan spoke, a subtle sadness drooping his tone. “It’s quite alright—“

“No,” you corrected quickly. “No, I can’t decide.”

Anakin’s brows quirked at this, head tilting as curiosity subdued his brief listlessness.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You sighed heavily, eyes drifting to the floor with an unaccustomed quiver. “I mean, I can’t decide because… because…”

You bit your lip.

“I want you both.”

Raising your head, you carefully observed the two men, bodies as still as statues while their swollen eyes held firmly on your figure. Anakin nurturing a steadily expanding, devious grin while he quietly flexed a fist, and Obi-Wan, faintly flicking his tongue across his top lip in an effort to carefully drink in your figure.

A pleasant chill ran down your spine.

“Is that alright?” You whispered.

Anakin chuckled incredulously, cueing Obi-Wan to respond to that inquiry.

“Darling,” he murmured, insatiable eyes sucking you barren as the nickname sent a new round of tingles down your legs. “That stretches far beyond ‘alright.’”

“How do you want us?” Anakin posed, tone nearing a growl.

Unfiltered, you spoke your mind.

“As close as possible.”

And the Jedi obliged.

________________________________________________________________

Should I do a part 2 at some point? Let me know :)

[threepandas]

Counting Down: 1

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The worst part about knowing the end? Is the beginning and middle. The waiting to change. The hoping it can. Days, spent with the low fear, ever churning, that it will all make no difference. Your actions. Your plans. The hopes you have placed in Fate's fickle hands.

Entering the Creche at an awkward age, too soon to be Legend, too late to be Peer. I was destined to be an adult by the time Anikin arrived. Getting up there, by the time the Order fell. Not yet old enough to be an Elder... yet destined to never live long enough to see such an age.

Obviously, I refused.

Looked around, locked eyes on the closest most manageable Character Of Relevance and took a chance. After all, was it not? The Jedi WAY? To inconvenience the Sith at every turn? So... first Crecheling, then Initiate, then baby Padawan Me, tracked the poor man down. Hunted him for SPORT.

Meditate with me, Knight Dooku! Can you teach me about this or that, Knight Dooku? What is the correct use of seashell tongs in formal dining, when attending a formal feast with the aristocracy, during this specific religious holiday, Knight Dooku? (No, no, on the moon not the planet.)

Congratulations on you Mastery! Master Dooku!

Pushing and shoving my way into his life. Persistent, much to everyone's amusement, and his baffled chagrin. It was like befriending a fussy, regal looking, semi-feral cat. Force knows, for all his training, he's terrible at casual interactions. He was older them me, yes. And Mentor of sorts, certainly. For a time. But? We became... friendly? I like to think? I certainly chased him down enough.

He's a dramatic and awkward man, Yan, and he'd be lost without us; Sifo, Nu, and I. Occasionally Yoda, but that does come and go. Not to metion... well... his Padawans. (Damn it, Yan. They can't read the subtext from your pointed silences! Use your WORDS.) The sort of man who is... sturdy, but brittle. Like an old, unbending tree.

Which makes it all the worse, when the pressure becomes too much. Because it does not merely crack. No. No, such men? They shatter in terrible and unpredictable ways. Unbreakable right up until they are not. Unending right up until the crash.

It is...? Both tragic and hilarious, in a that way, that Yan should live surrounded by so many prophets. Yet he does not, can not, and never will see the end coming. Surrounded by legends, both old and new. Born with every marker for greatness. Yet he...? He will be considered little more then a footnote, in someone else's history. At best.

And the worst part of his Fall? The absolutely worst part? Is the Light I still feel, each time I look at him, the GOOD I know is there. Resolute and noble, dignified and full of grace. A diplomat. Expert swordsman. Makes magnificent tea. The driest wit imaginable. He... he is YAN. Not Count Dooku. Not some Sith Apprentice. Just... just Yan.

My friend.

I meditate on it a lot. The Force gives no clear answers. Still, I do try, sitting in the gardens. Tucked away several stories up, past the considerate veil of several sweeping branches. I never did succeed in figuring out which planet the tree hails from, I suspect it might be either a long dead one or some small moon. It's a truely lovely, sturdy, thing nonetheless.

Far below, younglings shriek and play growl. Running carefree, to work off energy before evening meditation. Each a tiny blaze of starlight dancing at the edge of my vision.

A bit bright, I note, but nothing concerning.

The Halls of Healing will have to increase my prescription again. My glasses are no longer blocking enough... I sigh. Considering that. My sight? Is at least partially genetic. While I may be predominantly human, just because someone looks human passing, doesnt mean they genetically are one. My ancestors were, to put it mildly, a bit... Mandalorian.

Where their was a will, there was apparently, a way; And now I pay the price for it. It's honestly a miracle they never "married", as it were, themselves into a genetic dead end. Some sort of metaphorical space mule scenario, as it were. Yet? Despite all that seeming success? Luck is not eternal. And should you keep gambling? Eventual you will roll poorly.

I was that poor hand. That unfortunate luck. Loved of course. Expected even. My parents both wanted and were delighted by me. But? I screamed. Could not bear to be near people. My inheritance? A truely unfortunate luck of the draw. When combine with Force Sensitivity? My eyes reacted to "Light" poorly. Very, VERY poorly.

They were blinding to me. A mere child with no shields to speak of, no Force training to push BACK with. Like being force to look direct at the sun, again and again. It HURT. Because I could See.

Where others saw merely flesh? I saw deeper. Not infalliblly, not perfectly, I was hardly some omniscient god, but... oh. Oh. The world was so Bright. So LUMINOUS. The Force swirling and burning and flowing. In everything, from humble to grand. People shine, and yes, it is beautiful. But it also? Hurts. Because it IS, ultimately, being forced to stare directly at bright, ever shifting, sometimes flickering LIGHT.

I have a lifelong disability. Can not FUNCTION without my filtering shade glasses.

Or, if you are one of the ignorant assholes, who even NOW still seek to use me? I have what you might call? A"gift~☆".

According to Healer Che, it was some highly recessive trait. (From a planet I honest didn't even know I had heritage on, much less could find on a navigation system.) A subterranean people, due to the truely ungodly surface conditions. VERY sensitive to energy signatures and light. Which...? When you slap on a whole NEW super special Force sensing ability? Filtered through the same brain? Wires unfortunately crossed.

It could have happened it anyone. Unfortunately, it happened to me. Now I'm effectively blind around large collections of sentients. Or Life in general, depending on the intensity. To say NOTHING of Force Nexus! Dear merciful FUCK, that was the sort of accident only you make ONCE and then NEVER again. I was lucky to keep my vision. At all. Full stop.

Sifo was not so lucky. His Visions being neither natural nor kind. The Force seizing him again and again, to plunge him into vivid scenes of carnage. Death and horrors in the home he so loved. I would would be forced to, should I fail, see the Fall of the Order once. But Sifo? Oh... oh, dear Sifo...

Sifo, had seen it fall ten thousand times.

Even Yan did listen to him. Not truely. But there is camaraderie, in the horrors. In whispering, "it's not their fault", through choking tears. Forgiving the victims that will one day kill us. There is... a certain, heavy, sort of friendship... born of pressing your foreheads together, fingers intertwined, knuckles white with terror, as you shudder in the dark.

I think it helped, helps, that he has someone, who believes him. Anyone. Not just humoring him, the mad man sprouting prophecies of doom. But truely believes him. Knows he is right. And that if nothing is done? Everyone will die.

But... BUT! It CAN NOT, be Kamino, Sifo. Not that, never that.

In the dark, I remind him of prophets, seeking to avoid their visions, and instead? Ensuring the worst, comes to pass. Defense, Sifo. Escape. We are JEDI. Do not let fear blind you, to who you ARE. Do not let it take down a path of darkness.

I wrap him in the Light. Tuck my Force presence close, like I'm hiding him again my side, a youngling tucked into the safety of my robe. Shhhh, my friend. It is okay to be afraid. I am too. We can do this together. We are not alone. I believe you.

We are the pillars of his mental health, Yan and I. It concerns the healers greatly. The council. Honestly? It concerns me. But what can I do? No one else CAN help Sifo, until the first take the step of recognizing he is not, in fact, insane. He is a perfectly SANE man, reacting in entirely reasonable ways, to unspeakable Nexus born horrors. Slowly cracking under the isolation and grief. A jedi pushed and pushed, far past the point lesser men would have broken.

And if? He need a woman young enough to be his one of his student's, to rely on? So be it. I am a Knight now, I can handle it. (I have been handling it, since the incident. Since I was a Crecheling. Where the fuck were all of YOU? Ah, that's right. Calling him insane. Making things WORSE.)

I breathe out slow and controlled. My meditation is getting me no where. Rising, I carefully hop down, using the Force to slow my fall, much to the awe of various Crechelings. I can not help but smile. Was I ever that small? So easily impressed? I bow to my tiny fellow jedi. Delighted, they scramble to bow back. Thrilled to show off how grown up and serious they are, how well down they can do it.

Reaching out with my senses, I look for Yan, politely avoiding doing more then the briefest brush as I reach past others. I am not the first, nor will I be the last. There are hundreds of such searches a day. Some clumsy and heavy handed, from Crechelings or Initiates. Some soft as brushing strands of silk. Knights or Masters, looking for friends, looking for students where the should not be.

The Temple feels alive, noisy even, when you know how to feel it.

Ah, there he is! Heading from the High Council's cha-Grief. Horror. A gutting pain that numbs and spreads.

Caught off gaurd, I am sent reeling. Stumbling, without grace, over my own feet into a nearby wall. Glad for it, as I desperately grab at my chest and wheeze, drawing the alarmed attention of nearby Knights and Guards. Because... because, the other direction? Had I stumbled in the other direction, I would have hit the railing. Fully doubt I... I would have been able t-too.... oh Force-!

It takes entirely too long to seperate my emotions from Yan's. To realize what's happening. My panic feeding into the pain. My pain feeding into the panic. Yan. S-Something happened to Yan! I manage to gasp it out. P-please! S.. Someone! Go! Go check on Master Dooku!

The world spins as I try to force air into my body. It refuses to come. Whatever horrible pain Yan is in, leeching down our connection. Into me. Hurting. Made so, SO much worse, by my having been actively looking for him. I close my eyes, teeth gritting, and trying to stop digging my nails into skin. I-It won't help. There's nothing physically there.

But it hurts! God, does it HURT!

It feels like my WORLD has been shredded. My heart, crushed, cruel and slow in my chest. H-he's having a panic attack. Has to be! Or-! Or being attacked! I d-don't... don't KNOW!

A passing Master has hurried over, now kneels next to me. Various Knights pushing whatever calm and safety the can at me. No one is quite certain what will help. But they try. Desperately, stubbornly, resolute to the last... they TRY.

Breathe with me, begs the Master. Pressing my hand to his chest. Just copy my breathing. Help is coming. Release what pain you can, into the Force. We will help you. Let us help you.

I try.

Desperately, I Try.

The Healers end up having to give us sedatives, Yan and I. Sifo ends up... worse. The entire event triggering another, nasty, round of visions. He is incoherent. Trapped. Staring up at the Death Star from the surface of Alderaan, through countless eyes, begging to be heard. His soul, small and desperate, replaying the end, over and over. Even as he tries to protect what souls he can from the inevitable.

He cries for this too. They won't believe him, I know. Even as he thrashs and begs. For the lives of the innocent to be spared, for monsters to hold their fire. I will though. I will. I always do.

But Sifo will be lost for days. Yan, however? As he sits, on the bed, just the other side me? Sits stiff and properly. Blankly. As the healers words wash over him. I doubt a single on has registered. Of the three of us, I am the only one even remotely functioning. Yet... yet I still, don't know what has happened.

Nodding one last time to the healer assigned to me. Promising that yes, I will most certainly rest. I slip my my bed and sweep over to stand next to Yan's. The Healer's concerned and frustrated. He knows Yan's not listening. But has to try. I shoot him a strained, closed lipped, smile. Quietly take charge of my unresponsive friend.

The Healers relief is palpable. Our notes and instructions are not terribly dissimilar. Rest, food, no missions or upsets. Got it.

Gently, I guide Yan from the Healing Halls. Alarmed, that he let's himself be led. He never let's himself be led like this. Insists he is no invalid, to be coddled. Yet... here he is. Mind a thousand parsecs away.

Bringing him to his rooms, I key in his code then gently guide him to his favorite chair. Lightly guide him down into it. Not... not once, during the entire walk back, has he responded to anything. I am beginning to grow afraid.

Fussing, I drag up that terribly pretentious Serranian musician, on his music system. The one I can't stand. I am worried. Sacrifices must be made. Boring and insipid music fills the room. Very fancy! Come on, Yan. This is his new piece! Don't you want to comment on it? Come, tell me why it's so much better then the racket youngling blast these days. I'll call you an old man...

Nothing.

Worry growing, I begin making his favorite tea. Digging out his special occasion snacks. Something, anything, to get a reaction. As things brew, a sound too wounded to truly be a laugh, chokes it's way out of him.

"Xana-...My..." he starts. Stops. Normally sharp mind refusing to obey him, as he tries to summon words. He looks lost.

"My Grand-Padawan is dead." His voice is brittle, alien sounding in his mouth. I nearly drop the plate of snacks I was carrying over, in response. Horrified. "He was supposed be returning a knight. Qui-gon was.. was so proud of him. Adored him. This has destroyed him. Will destroy all of us. I... I have lost everything."

No. No, you have NOT.

Striding forward and all but dumping the plate on the side table next to him, I reach for my friend with both hands. With my Force presence. I refuse. No, damn it! I Will NOT lose him. Not like this, not TOO this!

Listen. LISTEN to me, Yan Dooku. So help me Stars, Gods both big and small, you will not succumb to this!

The greatest lie the Dark has ever told, is that it will make things better. That it can help you with your pain. Would Xanatos want his death to destroy you? Would the child of your child, want his legacy to be the ruin of everyone he loved? It is okay to grieve. You NEED to grieve. But remember you Padawans. Remember their Padawans.

Your Lineage still lives, Yan Dooku.

It is hurting, mourning, but ALIVE. Don't you dare run from it in your grief. You are better then that. I am here. Sifo and Nu are here. Yoda, is here. We will carry this pain together, okay?

Closing his eyes, he let his head rest more heavily against my hands. Dampness darkened his eyelashes, but no true tears formed or fell. He didn't seem to have it in him. Not yet. His hands though... his hands? Shook as they slowly, haltingly, like a droid with seizing joints, reached out for me.

I moved from leaning over him to sitting on the arm rest of his fancy Serranian high backed chair. That he didn't even grumble over me "abusing his furniture" by putting weight on the arm rest like this? Gods.

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his head and shoulders. Like a shield against the universe. Used the Force to pull the tea, finally done, and pour it into a nice cup. Properly of course. See, Yan? I remember your lectures. Here, drink.

He... did not.

Just leaned, sagged against me, as he shuddered with grief. Hands wrapped around a cup of fragrant tea. Music filling the air. Tucked safe inside my Force presence, as best I could.

In... Out... In... Out... There was a slight stutter to it, a hitch, that in a less controlled man? Might have broken into a sob. But... instead, Yan meditated. That first cup going to waste. The second following, as it slowly went cold. Needs must, though, and tea? Can be replaced. Yan can not.

Emptying wasted cups, I poured more. Rested my head atop his own. Matched his breathing as I slipped into a light meditation with him. The room was quite enough. The position not terribly comfortable. But honestly? We'd both meditated under worse conditions, and it had been... A DAY.

To put it mildly.

I didn't like the look of Yan's Force Presence. It was like a fault line had been struck. Spreading terrible spiderwebbing cracks in otherwise sturdy stone. I was no mind healer... really, not a healer at all, I was a Seeker, but? I had learned a few tricks. After all, not every child I had found? Was found in a safe and loving home. Most weren't, honestly.

You learned to soothe, as a Seeker. Learn how to help. Children, after all, don't know Light from Dark. They just know that if they reach for the magic in their head? Bad things go away and good things tend to happen. Sometimes they hurt themselves by accident. Sometimes they hurt themselves... because the alternative was worse.

"You know, my dear? Some days I think you are the only Jedi with any compassion left. The boy never should have been sent there. Not for his trials. The lives of others are not a child's test. And to be asked to face one's own family? It... it was cruel."

Yan sent his cup around me, to rest on the side table, before gently tugging me down into his lap. He hugged me close, like a child squeezing a stuffed animal for comfort, face buried in the crook between my shoulder and neck. Like he was hiding from the world. I rest my head against his shoulder, eyes closed.

We were both... so tired, weren't we. This was nice.

"When did it all become about proving ones purity? One's superiority of morals? We are supposed to help people. Not lord over them. If I wished to do THAT, I would merely need to return to Serrano. Become a Count. You and Sifo are the only one who seem to understand me."

"I think I would go mad, without you."

Yes. I worry that you would, Yan. I worry that you would.

[decembermidnight]

Ner Mesh'la Jetii

Summary: After you've been assigned to your first ever mission alone as a Padawan with Clone Force 99, you explore your "secret" relationship with Hunter, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone around you knows the two of you share a special bond.

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: a LOT of smut, 18+ MDNI, shameless flirting, use of pet names (sweetheart), heavy making out, voice kink, authority and competency kink, masculinity kink, oral (m and f receiving), Dom!Hunter, dirty talk, body worship, hair pulling, biting, nipple play, glove kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, a hint of overstimulation, creampie, Hunter being so in love it's almost pathetic

A/N: This is a sequel to Don't lose your focus! I highly suggest you go read it if you haven't already. I loved the idea of bringing these two back! This is like 85% smut it's insane I know but I'm a horny bitch what can I say As always, a massive thank you to @thefrogdalorian for being my beta and editor! I love you so much! Divider by @saradika-graphics Comments are reblogs are so appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You’ve been looking forward to the moment you’d be reunited with him far more than you’d be proud to admit. In the aftermath of the unforgettable night you spent with Sergeant Hunter, you didn’t feel as guilty as perhaps would be expected for a Jedi. The guilt comes more from the fact that you’ve been craving his touch and fantasising about all the things you want to do to him... Oh, yes, your mind has wandered down a sinful path.

No matter how much meditation and training you had during the day, you’d always end up in the same place: splayed out on your bunk late at night in the solitude of your room, fingers busy giving yourself pleasure, remembering the words Hunter whispered in your ear as he held you tight in his arms.

Seeing him again as he climbed down the Marauder’s steps, fully dressed in his armour, awoke all the feelings you desperately tried to bury, especially in front of your Master. You had been worried that things would feel different, that time and space may have lessened his feelings towards you. 

That was until he took off his helmet and you saw his brown eyes lighten up when your gazes met. You knew immediately that he still felt the same about you.

You were standing there alone, your Master was busy having a restricted meeting with the Jedi Council in the briefing room. Hunter greeted you by taking your hand in his, looking at you adoringly, with a hinted smile on his face. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the lust in your gazes unmistakable. Your hand lingered in his far more than it would have been appropriate for a friendly reunion.

Stars above, the quizzical looks on the faces of the other members of the Bad Batch should have told something to you, but you both didn't care.

Hunter lost no time in luring you to the barracks with an excuse – an urgent matter to discuss with you… privately.

You wanted – no, you needed to be alone; to celebrate your reunion and the feelings you still bear for one another…

The mere thought of being alone with him after so much time fantasising about it makes your heart thunder in your chest. Hunter can sense how fast your heart is beating, and you can feel the burning desire radiating from him.

The tension keeps building as the two of you walk across the barracks side by side. The thrill of having to appear nonchalant as you meet the soldiers you fight alongside everyday, who know you so well, makes it even more exciting. Hunter looks as handsome and confident as ever on the outside, but you can feel how impatient he is for the two of you to be finally alone. You know his enhanced senses are highly attuned to every single imperceptible signal of your body that would betray your arousal. His aura is permeated with lust and desire for you, and merely feeling it is making you throb with need.

You barely have time to enter your quarters before Hunter's large, gloved hands are already cupping your face. He is so desperate to kiss you, that he cannot even wait for the door to fully close behind you.

You immediately melt into him when you finally feel his lips on yours once again. The hunger behind each frenzied kiss is apparent as your lips meet over and over. Hunter is desperate to show you how much he missed you, how much he needs you. You smile contentedly at how frantic it is, so unlike the composure you both showed until a few moments ago. 

Now that you’re passionately kissing in the secrecy of the barracks, the immense guilt you were feeling is gone. There’s only him. Him and his lips, lavishing you with the attention you desperately craved all this time.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his broad shoulders as he pushes you against the wall. You desperately want to make up for all the time you spent apart from each other.

Hunter covers your neck in kisses as his hands roam across your body, before they eventually come to a halt around your waist, caging you firmly in his embrace. He kisses you with such passion and sweetness that you are powerless to help the breathy moan that escapes from your lips.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart," he rasps in your neck, "You have no idea."

"Missed you too, Hunter," you sigh, tone belying your arousal as your hands tangle in his hair.

When he hears those words and the sensual way you pronounce his name, Hunter presses his lips on yours with renewed desire. His mouth is a hot furnace enveloping you with its heat, and you swear your mind goes blank when his lips slowly part so that his tongue can make its way into your mouth.

It's this. This is the moment you have been yearning for. This thrill, this perfect stolen moment when you are reunited at last after so much time spent apart from each other.

He stops only so that he can look at you, at how beautiful you are. His hand goes on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as the other cups your cheek delicately, in a gesture so soft and devoted that explains far more than words ever could. His piercing brown eyes roam between your eyes and mouth, before he captures your lips with his once more.

Hunter’s greedy hands roam across your body, trailing a path underneath your cape, and eventually under your clothes, too. It is as though he is desperate to remember the way your soft body feels under his touch. You feel shivers wherever his hands and lips roam on your naked skin.

You missed his strong hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, the warmth of his body, the way his lips could never get enough of yours, but most of all, you missed how safe you felt in his arms.

You hear a rapping against the door which starts off gently at first. You know it’s the other members of The Bad Batch letting you know that your Master has come out of the briefing room.

You reluctantly place your hands on Hunter’s chest in a rather unconvincing attempt to push him away, certain that he must have heard the noise too. It seems like Hunter is ignoring it, though. He’s entirely focused on lavishing your neck with attention. 

"We have to go… W–we have to go… we have t–to…" you repeat mindlessly, more to yourself than to him, as he keeps kissing your neck while inhaling your intoxicating scent that he missed so much.

Hunter shushes you by kissing you on the lips again. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, a sensation that makes you groan against his lips. You grip handfuls of his thick hair, fingers digging into his dark locks. Your tongues explore each other's mouths and you pull him closer to you, wanting to feel his strong, armoured body against yours.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he rasps before your lips immediately meet again.

Even though there is a nagging voice deep down reminding you both that you have to leave, you are unable to tear yourselves away from each other. 

Hunter’s adoring lips go on worshipping the delicate skin of your throat, covering it in kisses trailing down to your collarbones.

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmurs against your chest as he goes on covering it in sweet kisses.

His fingers are gently pulling the fabric of your top down, until his gloved hand brushes against one of your hardened nipples. The sudden contact of leather with your sensitive bud elicits a small moan out of you.

Hunter does not miss your reaction, humming low in his throat at the realisation, and starts drawing circles on it with his gloved finger.

You are getting lost in his touch, so affectionate yet erotic at the same time. It’s driving you aflame with lust, turning you into a desperate mess under his feather-like touch. You sigh deeply as you throw your head back and push your chest forward to offer yourself to him even more.

“Mmmh? You like this, sweetheart?” he coos as he keeps playing with your nipple, pleased at the way your body reacts to his gloved touch, eager for more.

“Oh, you do. Your heart is racing,” he answers himself, smirking against your skin as his lips trail up your neck to kiss your pulse point. 

“Maker above, Hunter…” you whimper, heavily aroused.

Hunter lifts his head up to look at you. His brown eyes are darkened by lust at the sight of you writhing under his touch. His lips are mere inches apart from yours, curved up in a pleased smirk. He's not making an effort to come closer just yet, no. He wants to tease you and enjoy the way you're looking at him, adoring and begging for more.

That perfect moment of tension is interrupted by the return of the knocking against the door, this time more insistent than earlier.

You take advantage of Hunter’s split-second distraction to launch yourself back into kissing him with renewed fervour, completely ignoring it. He hums low in his throat, pleased by the lust that compelled your body forward, and welcomes you in his arms once again.

Your bodies grind against one another as your tongues greedily search each other’s mouths. Feeling Hunter’s body against yours sets you aflame with lust. Your throbbing, drenched pussy is desperate for relief. You are sure Hunter can smell how aroused you are and that your scent is driving him insane. You can feel it in the way his kisses grow more and more eager. You bite Hunter’s lip in a frenzied gesture of your desire which draws a low growl from his throat and causes him to further push you against the wall.

At this point, the banging on the door becomes so loud that it becomes impossible to ignore.

Hunter grunts in disappointment when you have to reluctantly end the kiss. He presses his forehead against yours, as his hands cup your face. You permit yourselves a few moments to regain your composure. He gives you one last regretful look before he pulls away. You know it’s a difficult step for Hunter, given the way your eyes are aflame for him; lips swollen and parted as your chest heaves after making out so intensely. 

Hunter takes your hand in his and you head towards the exit together. You open the door to see a rather annoyed Crosshair, who nods toward your Master. Tech and Wrecker are not far behind.

You see your Master instructing other clone soldiers outside the briefing room, not too far from where you are. You immediately head towards him, not paying attention to the way the other members of the Bad Batch are looking at Hunter.

Crosshair catches the unmistakable adoration in Hunter’s eyes as he looks at you walking away.

“Discussing…” he hisses, taunting his brother before following you.

Wrecker follows him next, pushing Hunter with his shoulder, letting out a scoff.

"Wait – you know about us?" Hunter then asks Tech.

"Of course we do, Hunter. You're not exactly subtle with that," Tech spits, evidently annoyed at how little faith Hunter has in his brothers’ ability to read such an obvious situation.

Hunter lets out a defeated sigh, then follows you and the others towards the General. So much for discretion. He always prides himself on being a cool and collected leader, completing his objective in cold blood, being meticulous and precise. Seeing you again, though, caused him to falter. He can’t help it when it comes to you, especially after he hasn’t seen you in a while. 

You take a deep, calming breath, hoping it hides the toll that the brief, yet intense, encounter has had on your body. With your nerves steadied and an apparently confident strut, you go to greet your Master, accompanied by all the members of The Bad Batch right behind you.

"Clone Force 99, it’s a pleasure to see you again," your Master says as his eyes roam across all the members of the squad.

"General, we're glad to be working with you once again," Hunter says confidently, having regained all of his martial composure. "What kind of mission do you have for us this time?" 

Stars above, the way his voice becomes even deeper when he switches to Sergeant mode causes you to feel a tingle between your legs every time.

Regretfully, now is not the time for this. You have to focus on your Master, on the mission, and absolutely not on the handsome man you’ve just passionately made out with. You can’t mess this up, not when your Master encourages you to think of a plan and he’s listening to you carefully. After all this time following him, battle after battle, he is starting to give you more independence, to hear your voice and trust your judgement. 

It is difficult to focus after you notice the way Hunter is looking at you, though. He is entranced by how secure and confident you look as you draw up a strategy.

You decide to act on his desire for you, to render him a desperate, flustered mess.

So, with a quick, casual gesture of your hand, you flip your hair behind your shoulder to offer him a better view of your neck. The small movement causes a hint of your scent to waft over to him. You catch out the corner of your eye as he closes his eyes for a fraction of a second when he inhales it. He clenches his hands into fists, longing for the moment when he will bury his face in your neck again. Maker above, he wants you.

You wish you could send him a fleeting, mischievous look, but your gaze is focused on your Master's observant eyes. You figure that ignoring Hunter as he's struggling with his desire for you would make you even more irresistible. You feel an immense power at the realisation. You, a Jedi, can cause this man to crumble in front of your eyes, all while you are merely conversing with your Master. He is watching you do something so simple, yet he would drop to his knees to worship the literal ground you walk on, should you only give the order…

Once the plan is all set and you’re about to climb the steps of the Marauder, ready to take off for this new exciting mission with The Bad Batch, your Master calls your name and you stop in your tracks.

“Yes?” you turn around to face him.

“A word?”

“Of course, Master.” 

"The Council wants me to go on a diplomatic mission," he confesses as he crosses his arms looking at you.

"A diplomatic mission? Was that the reason for your meeting earlier? When are we leaving?"

"I’ll be going alone. You're not coming with me this time. It’s a very delicate negotiation," he explains in a cold voice.

You're conflicted. On one hand, there's your duty as a Jedi, to insist and follow your Master. On the other, you'd be disappointed to leave just now that you've reunited with Hunter. The perspective of having another mission together was incredibly exciting, and the thought of having just another moment alone with him, was fueling you with fire.

In the end, though, you decide to do the right thing. Your Jedi duties come before anything else.

"What?! I’m your Padawan, I should be by your side. What if you need me? What if I need you?"

"You will go with Clone Force 99. No further discussion,” he replies, ignoring your protests.

You sigh deeply as you try to think of an answer. He can sense the turmoil in you and decides to reassure you.

“That plan you drew up is good,” he says, and then pauses briefly to look into your eyes. “I trust you."

He is not exactly what you would define as a talkative person, so you know every word counts. You certainly cannot refuse after he just told you he trusts you so much he has assigned you to your first mission alone. No, not now that your Master thinks you’re ready, not now that he said those words to you.

“Thank you, Master. I will make you proud,” you smile back at him, sincerely comforted by his words.

"Come on, let's go now. If you succeed, you'll have plenty of time to celebrate with your Sergeant," he teases you as he turns around to get back on the ship.

"Master?!" you can only reply.

He briefly turns around and you see him stifle a laugh at your reaction. That’s unusual of him.

He knows. He knows, you're sure. No matter how much you try to hide it – at least when you're in front of him – you feel like there's nothing you can ever hide from your Master. He can read you like a book, after all these years spent together. Maybe it's because he, too, had experienced a forbidden attachment like this, many years ago, before taking you as a Padawan, before becoming a Jedi knight…

As the adrenaline slowly wears out after your first, successful battle without your Master’s supervision, you can’t help but think how different the Bad Batch's approach is from your battalion. You worked as a team and it was a pleasure to assist in the flawless, coordinated way they eliminated an entire battalion of droids before your eyes. Hunter gave the orders and effortlessly slayed droids with his vibroknife. He knew he looked incredibly attractive while doing so. He played along with his blade, making it dramatically twirl in his hands way more than necessary. It was so obvious that he wanted to act cool in front of your eyes. You decided to do the same and to look elegant and precise while using your lightsabers. You felt his gaze locked on you, and you hoped he was enjoying it and smiling underneath his helmet.

As you walk back toward the Marauder, you hear Wrecker bragging to Crosshair about how many droids he had eliminated. He groans loudly in defeat when he hears that his brother surpassed him, again. He groans even louder when he hears you’ve slayed more than double his total.

You let out a small laugh at his reaction as you walk with Hunter by your side.

“It’s hard to compete with a Jedi,” his voice sounds even deeper and huskier when it’s distorted by the modulator in his helmet.

You turn and face him, the both of you stopping in your tracks. Hunter places a hand on your cheek and caresses your face tenderly, looking at you leaning into his touch so sweetly. You feel his gaze trained on you from behind the dark visor. His helmet tilts slightly, taking in your beauty. Grateful for the gift of an unexpected, fleeting moment alone.

You shyly trail your hands up his armoured chest to try and reach the sides of his helmet to lift it from his face. You want nothing more than to see his deep, brown eyes looking at you. Just as your fingers make contact with his helmet, a distant sound interrupts you.

“Get a room!” Wrecker impatiently yells at the two of you from the Marauder’s ramp.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes from your lips.

Hunter looks at the big grin that spreads on your face, at you being so genuinely happy in this perfect moment. He’s grateful to the helmet he’s still wearing, so that you can’t witness how lovestruck he looks at the sight of you smiling.

He gives you an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and you follow the others up the Marauder’s ramp.

Armours and weapons now long discarded, you have an amazing time with The Bad Batch on your way back. Journeying through hyperspace is a quiet time dedicated to silence and meditation when you travel with your quiet, reserved Master. This time, however, you spend quite a few hours conversing and laughing with the squad, all while sending mischievous looks to Hunter from time to time. Hunter can't take his eyes off you. You feel them shamelessly roaming across the feminine curves of your body, this time not hidden by the baggy Jedi cape. The carnal desire in his eyes is a silent promise to pick up where you left off earlier.

When all the other members of the Bad Batch are finally asleep after all those hours spent drinking and joking, you finally sneak away, locking yourselves alone in the cockpit. Hunter loses no time in pushing you against the door behind you with his strong, masculine body. He immediately starts to kiss your neck and to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“You’ve been incredible today, Sergeant.” you whisper in his hair.

Hunter lifts his head to meet his gaze with yours. He takes in your beauty, the way your eyes glimmer in admiration for him. He then joins your lips in a passionate kiss that makes your knees tremble.

“Have I, Commander?” he rasps against your lips, before grazing your neck with his teeth and placing tender kisses along your delicate skin.

Maker, he loves your neck. He knows all the sweet spots where to concentrate his ministrations to elicit the prettiest whimpers out of you. You gasp as you tangle your hand in his hair.

“Y-yes. Absolutely. Oh, Stars, Hunter…” you can barely whisper before your vision gets blurry, your head swimming in pleasure.

Hunter buries his face in your neck and in your hair, wishing to be as close as possible to you. He is addicted to your scent.

He starts to undress you with care and devotion, touching you like the most precious thing in the galaxy. You sigh when you feel his warm hands roaming under your shirt, touching your soft, naked skin as he slowly peels your clothes away from your body. His adoring gaze is fixed between your feminine body and your eyes, glimmering for him. He caresses your body, worshipping every single inch of your skin. His mouth starts planting kisses across your collarbones and chest, leaving marks here and there, kissing the gentle curve of your shoulder. 

You can feel his erection brushing against your lower belly. He’s insanely hard, still encased in his thin, black suit. His cock is throbbing for you already, and the mere idea of having that effect on him makes you dizzy with want. You pull him closer, the kisses becoming even more passionate as you look for friction. You desperately try to keep your moans low, muffling them in each other's mouths.

You hold on tight to his strong, muscular biceps before pushing him to sit on the pilot chair. You immediately kneel in front of him, your eyes darkened by lust at the sight before your eyes. You can clearly see the outline of his thick cock and it’s making you dizzy with want. You’re impatient to feel it inside of you, thinking how pleasurable it will be. Before that, though, you want to please him. You want him to know how much you missed him, how much you worship him, to give him something to dream of in his lonely nights.

“What are you doing, eh?” he asks, smirking when he sees you acting like that.

“Hunter, I want you to enjoy my mouth,” you smile provocatively, feeling brazen now that you can finally give into one of your many late-night fantasies.

He watches in awe as you kiss his erection from outside his thin suit, choking a moan at the sight of you down there, so eager to give him pleasure.

“Mesh’la…” he murmurs. It’s a word coming from a language you’ve never heard, but you love the sound of it coming from his lips. 

You start to slowly undo his pants, careful not to inadvertently brush your hands against his cock. You only want him to feel the warmth and softness of your loving mouth.

Once you free his rock-hard, throbbing length, you look back at Hunter with a mischievous grin on your face. You slowly trail your tongue from the base to the tip while keeping eye contact. Hunter’s whole body goes rigid at that, and you hear him suppressing a moan in his throat. His fingers are digging into the armrest of the pilot chair, the veins in his hands popping out.

You have barely started, but Hunter is already a mess beneath you. The touch of your velvety, hot tongue is driving him insane and he can already tell he’ll be addicted to your beautiful mouth.

You decide to let him slowly simmer, building up pleasure until he’ll be crying out your name in a strangled moan. The mere idea sets you aflame with lust.

You start by giving small, kitten licks to the head of his cock. Hunter throws his head back, offering you a sinful view of his throat as he exhales in ecstasy.

“Eyes on me, Sergeant,” you point out teasingly, pleased at the way you’re reducing him.

As soon as Hunter looks back at you, you sensually lick your lips to dampen them before enveloping them around the head of his cock. Hunter is mesmerised by the view and feeling of something so warm and beautiful, all for him to enjoy. 

Your tongue twirls around the head of his cock as you go down, massaging his shaft with your lips. Hunter clenches his jaw to suppress a moan when you let his cock glide into your throat.

You start to bob your head up and down his shaft and that’s when he loses it completely. He stifles a desperate laugh at how good it feels.

“Oh, sweetheart. Doing so good for me…” he praises you. 

You love reducing him to this. You’re so damn wet and turned on, but you don't want to touch yourself just yet, no. This is all about him. You only want to focus on him, on his cock and the way his body reacts to your mouth.

"Oh, fuck…" he whimpers, trying his best not to come in your mouth as you look so provocative and sensual for him only.

Hunter looks stunning as he slouches into the pilot chair in just his black suit, trying to muffle his own moans of pleasure. The only source of light comes from the windshield of the Marauder in hyperspace. The blue hues highlight the muscles of his broad chest as it heaves up and down. His lips are curved up in a pleased smirk as his gaze is locked on you, completely entranced by the way your lips wrap around his cock. 

You feel your arousal starting to drip down your inner thighs at that sight. Your clit is swollen and needy, begging for relief as you drive Hunter insane with your sweet mouth.

You can tell he’s getting dangerously close to the edge by the way his breathing becomes more shallow and frantic, the muscles of his strong body tensing up in preparation. That blissful sight of him, a cool and collected soldier desperately trying to keep it all under control, makes you want to push it even further.

“M-mesh’la, stop. S-stop. You’re gonna make me—an–and I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you, mesh’la. I want to fu–fuck y–” 

"Come in my mouth, Hunter. I want to taste you," you interrupt him by sending a message through the Force, not wanting to stop just now that he's right on the edge.

Hunter can’t do anything but surrender when he sees the sheer lust in your eyes, the desire to taste him. The mere vision of you, the object of his desires ever since he laid eyes upon you, acting so filthy for him, sends him over the edge. His whole body tenses up even more until you feel his cock spurting his cum in your mouth, filling it with his delicious release. You swallow it as you go, savouring the salty, slightly bitter taste of his release. He can’t help the way his hips thrust to push his cock further into your throat, while simultaneously clenching his jaw to avoid moaning your name out loud and waking up the rest of the Batch.

Hunter is in a state of unadulterated bliss as he catches his breath. There's a grin on his face as he looks down at you between his legs, his spent cock still in your mouth. 

You let it out in a loud pop and lick your lips provocatively. Hunter grabs your jaw in his hand, bringing you closer to him and kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue. He's ravenous like a hungry beast. He moans in your mouth and you think you can't be any more turned on, but then Hunter surprises you again.

His strong arms lift you up as he kisses you, walking until the back of your thighs hit the command panel.

"My turn now," he smirks.

He kneels in front of you and spreads your legs, taking your drenched panties off.

Hunter takes in the heavenly view of your glistening core just right before his eyes. You're so eager for his touch, you bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

Despite how tempting and luscious you look, Hunter does not give in just yet. He starts to kiss your inner thighs, licking all the drops of arousal coating them, making you shudder with need.

"Hunter…" you plead, your legs are already shaking but his strong grip keeps them spread open for him.

“Look at you. You were so hot on your knees, with my cock in your mouth, but this… This is even better. I love hearing you beg for me, sweetheart.”

This man can make you lose your Jedi composure, especially when his mouth is so close to your pussy and you can feel his hot breath on it as he whispers those words.

“Oh, Hunter, please…” you beg for him once again, your grip on his hair tightens and you wish you could just push your cunt into his mouth. His strong arms are keeping you still as you’re pathetically grinding your hips in front of his face, without the possibility of reaching it unless he allows it.

Hunter smirks at how desperate you are for relief. The sweet, intoxicating scent of your arousal is the most addicting thing he’s ever smelled. Despite how much he loves seeing you like this and how beautiful you look, he cannot wait any longer, he has to bury his tongue in your folds and taste you. It’s been so long, he missed it so much.

He digs his face between your legs and his tongue starts to run along your folds. He savours you, humming contendently when your sweet taste fills his mouth. You arch your back and sigh deeply as Hunter’s tongue masterfully licks your clit, committed to offering you the highest pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good, damn,” he pants as he briefly gasps for breath, before returning to where you want him the most.

“All for you,” you manage to whisper while looking at the sight below you, at the Sergeant that just a few hours ago was so authoritative and killed his enemies mercilessly, but now he is on his knees, worshipping you with his mouth and every inch of his body.

You clench at the sight below you, tugging on his hair harder as you start to grind your hips, rubbing your cunt in his face.

You can feel Hunter’s fingers digging harder into the flesh of your thighs, a low hum coming from his throat. 

"That’s it. Ride my fucking face, mesh'la," he rasps authoritatively.

He’s loving it. He loves it when you use his body for your pleasure. He loves hearing your sweet moans for him and looking at your blissed-out face.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan as you obey his order.

Your hips keep grinding to rub your cunt on his face, the pleasure quickly building up. You tug on his hair, riding his face in chase of your own orgasm.

“Hunter, Hunter, I’m–” you pant.

Hunter purrs into your cunt and his tongue licks your clit even faster, pushing you over the edge.

You thread your fingers through his soft brown curls and tug on them as a white-hot wave of pure bliss traverses your body. As you come, Hunter’s tongue keeps that devastating rhythm that makes your eyes roll backwards and your jaw drop open. You strangle the moan in your throat, preventing you from screaming his name and making everyone in the Marauder aware of what is happening in the cockpit.

Hunter keeps masterfully licking and sucking your clit until you come down from your high. He only stops once you finally release your tight grip on his hair.

“Could go on like this for hours, sweetheart. You taste so good, I can’t ever get enough of you,” he murmurs in between kisses to your inner thighs.

“Oh, Hunter, you have no idea how much I would adore that,” you say with a blissful smile on your face, thinking of how many orgasms he could draw out of you before turning you into a writhing, desperate mess. The mere thought sparks another fire of lust within you.

“Come here, Sergeant,” you call him with an urge to feel his body against yours once again.

Hunter is more than pleased to oblige. As he stands up in front of you, you are struck by how tall and handsome he is. You take a look at his face, still glistening in your arousal. You tug on his hair and trail your tongue along his lips, tasting the faint salty taste of your orgasm. He cups your face in his hands and kisses you on your mouth passionately. Your tongues taste each other’s pleasure, an addictive, lustful blend.

"We taste so good together, Hunter," you pant once your lips part.

“We do, sweetheart,” he growls as he pulls you to sit back down in the chair, making you straddle him. A proud smirk forms on his face when you notice he's hard and ready for you, again.

You immediately start grinding your wet, hot cunt all over the length of his thick cock, getting yourself off, drenching his cock and moaning softly in his ear. You trail your tongue along his neck, tasting his masculine scent, before softly biting on his earlobe. 

“Take it off,” you whisper sensually in his ear, letting your hand roam down his abdomen, hinting at his tight, black shirt.

Hunter's whole body jerks under your touch as he suppresses a whimper. You can't believe you've reduced this fierce man into this whimpering mess; begging for you to ride his dick. The mere thought sends you another spark of desire between your legs.

Hunter obeys and strips immediately, offering you the tempting view of his strong, masculine body. His golden skin is hot to the touch, muscles rippling wherever your hand roams. You follow the contours of his chest tattoo - half rib cage that matches the half-skull tattooed on his face. The touch of your fingers is feather-like as you trace the ink decorating that stunning body. Hunter looks at you carefully, at the pleased expression on your face as your hand slowly trails down his abdomen. A mischievous smile forms on your lips as you align his cock to your entrance. You let the head slip inside of you and stop to look at his eyes. He has such a desperate expression on his face that makes you want to tease him even further.

"Mesh'la…" the way he says it, low in his throat, needy and firm at the same time, makes you clench around him.

"Quiet, Sergeant," you whisper against his lips, your hands cupping his face, fingers gently tracing the contours of his half-skull tattoo, before kissing him on his lips.

As your tongues explore each other's mouths, you slowly sink down on him, enjoying every single ridge and vein of his throbbing erection as he splits you open. He moans in your mouth and you swallow it greedily, kissing him with even more passion. You look at his deep, brown eyes as you keep going. His brow furrows slightly, overwhelmed by the feeling of your tight, wet cunt around his cock.

You have seen his fierce eyes, how tough he looks when he's in charge, when he has to be a soldier and slay his enemies, but this... This is different. He's looking at you with nothing but reverence and desperation. You have reduced Sergeant Hunter to this needy man panting beneath you. The power surge you feel at the sight below you is making you bold and confident. You feel like the most beautiful woman in the galaxy as you look at him staring at you, at his worshipful brown eyes. The thought drives you insane with lust.

Just as you bury his cock inside of you to the hilt, you stop. You feel each other clenching and throbbing in turns, getting used to the pleasurable sensation when your bodies join together as one.

You're both out of breath. Your fingers dig into his thick, wavy hair while his hands wrap around your waist. His touch is delicate and reverential. You're nothing like he's used to. He's used to battle and weapons, not the warm softness of your body. He's looking at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes upon. His hands are callous after so many battles, and he rejoices in feeling how your skin is soft in contrast.

You lift your hips slowly, your tight cunt gripping his length in its grasp as it leaves your warmth, soaking wet already. You leave just the tip in, enjoying the desperate expression on his face. His brown eyes are filled with lust as he silently begs for you to resume your movement.

You sink back down on it slowly, wanting to enjoy every single inch of his length. You both moan and sigh in turns, until you have his cock buried to the hilt inside of you once again.

“I missed you so much…” you whisper against his lips as you start riding him sensually.

“You have no idea. Every – every f–fucking day I thought about you," he whimpers "thought of this," he adds as his arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him.

You know it should feel wrong to be so attached to a man, to smile at the tender words he says while you’re making love. This is not the Jedi way, after all. But how can it be wrong when looking into his eyes feels so perfect?

A wide grin forms on your face as you look at the man below you, worshipping you like a goddess.

Hunter is mesmerised by the view of your breasts bouncing right in front of his face. He can’t resist and just starts to kiss one of them, sucking on the soft skin. He then takes your nipple between his lips, making his tongue twirl around it, eliciting a pleased moan out of you. His thumb rubs your lips possessively and you welcome it into your mouth, sucking it provocatively, turning him on even more. 

"How in the galaxy do I fucking deserve this? How do I fucking deserve you?" he whimpers as he looks at you being so sensually beautiful.

You capture his lips in yet another passionate kiss, as if you were unable to have your lips parted from one another. Hunter's fingers then dig into your hair and gently pull your head to the side so that he can cover your neck in kisses as he gets lost in your scent.

He breathes you in as if your scent was oxygen. He's addicted to it – soft, feminine, comforting yet so sensual it drives him insane and can barely restrain himself from fucking you every time he catches it.

Your scent lingered in his bunk after you spent your first night together. The days following your encounter, any time he went to rest, he smelled you and a bittersweet smile appeared on his face. Hunter was nostalgic of that night you spent together, and was determined not to let you slip away from him another time, if he ever met you again.

"Your scent drives me insane, mesh'la," he confesses, his hot breath washing against your skin.

That word, again.

Your hands cup the sides of his neck as your thumbs rub his throat possessively. He lifts his chin to face you, looking at you with his adoring brown eyes. 

"Hunter," you let out in an aroused sigh "W–what does mesh'la mean?"

He cups your face in his hands and tilts it towards him so you can look in his eyes – deep, sincere, devoted.

"Beautiful. You're beautiful, sweetheart," he says before stealing another passionate kiss that makes you flutter around him.

Hunter hums in his throat and deepens the kiss even further, tangling his fingers in your hair, caressing you as if you were the most fragile and precious thing he's ever touched.

“Ner mesh'la jetii," he whispers in your ear sweetly. "My beautiful, beautiful Jedi. You looked so good – brave, strong, powerful, fighting with your lightsabers. I couldn’t take my eyes off you, sweetheart,” he says before his lips are back on your neck, lavishing it in sweet kisses.

Hunter can’t resist biting the soft flesh of your neck, yet he is careful to only leave marks on your skin where he knows your body will be covered by clothes. He is so attentive and careful even when he's possessed by lust. He wouldn't want anything more than to mark your neck, so that you could show everyone who you belong to, but he understands – you're a Jedi, he's a Clone Trooper. He wouldn't want to jeopardise the brilliant future you have ahead due to his own selfishness. It's a silent agreement you respect and understand, too.

His lips keep adoringly tracing the sensual curve of your shoulder as you keep riding him, as you gradually increase your rhythm to grant the highest pleasure for you both, your panting hot against his neck. Your clit is pleasurably rubbing against his shaft, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body starts trembling, your breathing gets shallower and you can’t help letting out whimpers. Hunter grabs your hair and pulls so that he can look at you getting off on his dick. He can feel you're close, his senses are highly attuned to every signal your body gives out.

"Use your words," he orders.

"I'm coming, Hunter," you say in a desperate, pleading voice.

"Don't you love coming on my cock, sweetheart?" his voice is dark and lustful, giving you goosebumps all over your body.

You smile and nod in response, but that's when he grabs your throat to force you to look at him, and you see that flame in his eyes again.

"Answer me," he rasps authoritatively, drawing you even closer to your orgasm.

"Y–yes, I–I do," your voice is shaky, jaw trembling in his hand and breathing getting even more shallow. 

"Say it." 

"I – oh, fuck – I love coming on your cock, Hunter," your voice sounds so sweet and shaky when you pronounce those words. You can clearly feel his cock throbbing and hear a low, pleased growl in his throat.

"Then come on my fucking cock, Commander," he orders.

You finally let go as soon as you hear his order and just as your eyes roll backwards. Your lips part in ecstasy and he's quick to capture them in a kiss to muffle your moans. Hunter grunts low in his throat as he feels your cunt clamping erratically around his cock, his hand keeping your jaw in place for him as he sticks his tongue inside your mouth. He swallows every single moan of yours as he rides you through your high.

As the orgasm slowly fades out, you find yourself panting against his mouth, your foreheads are touching and notice his brown eyes are still looking at you adoringly. You're blissfully smiling, being reminded just how much pleasure Sergeant Hunter can bring you. A pleasure you can't reach late at night, alone in your bed with your fingers only.

Hunter lets you catch your breath like that, cradled by his strong arms as he keeps shallowly thrusting into your sensitive cunt.

"I want to fuck you, sweetheart," he whispers, his nose brushing against your hairline.

"You are," you giggle.

"No, sweetheart, I want to fuck you," he articulates, the grip of his hands on the back of your thighs turning to steel, lifting you as he stands up from the pilot chair. 

You barely have time to register what’s happening, when his cock slips out of you and your back suddenly feels the coldness of the floor against its flustered skin, making you gasp. Hunter’s hands cradle your head and the small of your back, to shield you.

“I got you,” he smiles reassuringly before he enters back into you in one thrust. The combination of those actions makes you clamp around his cock, and a small whimper escapes your lips.

Hunter immediately covers your mouth with his to muffle your desperate moans as you feel his cock stretching your sensitive cunt even further.

And there you are, giving into your animalistic desire for each other on the cold, metallic floor of the cockpit.

Oh, it's so good. You love riding him, but having him on top of you, pumping his hard cock inside of you is even better. Hunter's grip on your body tightens as he feels how hard your walls clench around his cock when he acts so dominant. Your eyes roll backwards each time he hits that spot inside of you, making you see stars. 

"S–so good, so, so fucking g–good," he whimpers as he keeps thrusting into you pleasurably slowly. He wants to enjoy every single inch of your hot, wet cunt.

His voice is so low and desperate that your walls clench hard around him. The sensation is so pleasurable that he has to stop abruptly, a grunt escaping from his lips. He doesn't want to come inside of you just yet.

"Damn, sweetheart, you're killing me," he pants in your ear.

He takes your lobe between his teeth and softly bites it, growling like a rabid, hungry beast. You let out a whimper at that.

"Oh, I know, I know," he purrs. "I know you can take it. You're such a good girl for me."

You swear his voice alone could make you come.

Your eyes shut in bliss, getting lost in the feeling of being so full of him once again.

"Look at me, mesh'la," he whispers softly, yet authoritatively.

When you open your eyes for him again, a smug smirk forms on his lips.

"Yes, like this. Damn, you're so fucking pretty," he growls in between violent thrusts that make you see stars.

"Been wanting to bury my dick inside of you since we were in your barracks earlier.  If they didn't stop us, I'd–" he pauses. The hand covering your mouth goes into your hair, delicately caressing it. "Damn, sweetheart, I'm losing my mind. Missed fucking you so much," he whispers against your neck and you feel his hot breath against your already flustered skin.

“Me too, Hunter, me too,” you can barely mumble, a blissful smile on your face as his cock keeps hitting that perfect spot inside of you.

But Hunter doesn’t stop there, no. He continues worshipping you with his mouth, with his hands and with his body as he thrusts into you.

You grab a handful of his hair and pull it, so you can have access to his neck to sensually trail your tongue along it and then bite it. Hunter moans in surprise, heavily aroused by your gesture, and buries his cock inside of you to the hilt, then stops and grunts in your neck.

"Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart. It's a dangerous game you're playing," he growls.

You giggle in his neck before biting him even harder.

"Not gonna last if you – if you–" his dark voice betrays a hint of desperation which turns you on even more.

Hunter grabs a handful of your hair in response, planting his elbow on the floor and covers your mouth with his other hand before starting to thrust into you so hard you can't help rolling your eyes.

The way he's giving it to you is so raw and feral, it's driving you insane as you drag your nails across his muscular back. Hunter bites back into your neck and growls wildly, determined to give it to you until he fucks every trace of sanity away from your body.

"Oh, is this what you wanted, sweetheart?" he grits darkly against your neck. "You like it rough, mh? Stars, I can feel how much you like this," he smirks.

Hunter's hand leaves the back of your head and goes between your legs, his thumb starting to rub your clit. A whimper escapes from your throat.

"Quiet. Quiet, pretty girl, or they're gonna hear us," he whispers in your ear.

You clench hard at that, making Hunter choke a grunt in his throat in response.

"Give me one more. One more, sweetheart," he murmurs softly, yet with an air of authoritativeness.

You love it when his more dominant side comes out when he fucks you, giving you orders like the natural born leader he is. It’s a role that fits him perfectly. You gladly follow his lead as he tames your fiery personality in a way no one ever did.

His thick fingers are rubbing your swollen clit in the most delicious, yet devastating way. His touch drives you towards another orgasm, embarrassingly soon after he ripped the previous one from your weary body. Hunter can sense your heart thundering in your chest, the irregular way you're breathing, your body tensing in preparation.

"Yeah. Let me see how beautiful you are when you come on my cock," he says in his deep, husky voice, encouraging you to let go.

His words give you the final push and you come hard around him. It's an overwhelming hot blaze of bliss starting at your core and ripping your whole body and soul apart. Hunter's large hand muffles the desperate moans that shouldn't escape your mouth.

"Yes, yes, there it is. Good girl. You're my good girl," he encourages you as he keeps rubbing circles on your swollen clit, your walls fluttering around his thick cock as he keeps thrusting into you.

Your eyes roll backwards, unable to stay focused on his gaze. Seeing the way you're enjoying this, the immense pleasure you're feeling, drives Hunter close to the edge too.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Oh, I'm gonna come inside of you. You belong to me. To me. You are mine," he growls.

His thrusts lose that merciless rhythm and grow slower and deeper. He eventually comes with a ragged groan in your ear, making you clench even harder around him when you hear that desperate sound. He tightens his grip around your waist, as if he was afraid you might slip away from him again. Hunter buries his cock deep in your cunt as the warmth of his release spreads inside of you. He kisses you desperately, like he never wants this to end. You’re enveloped in the warm embrace of his strong, masculine body. His warm breath washes across your skin as he whispers tender words about how much he missed you and how perfect you are. Your hands are tenderly cupping the sides of his face as you reciprocate his kisses, smiling against his lips as his thrusts slowly come to an end.

Taglist: @sonicrainbooms

[6lostgirl6]

Ties That Bind Part 2

Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder, Angst, Arguing.

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys the second installment of Ties That Bind! I really enjoyed writing this with the amazing @britany1997! She is just so pleasant to work with and made this collab fun and exciting! Please, make sure to support both writers by reblogging both versions. Both writers put equal amount of work into this collab and both deserve equal treatment. Reblogs are always appreciated!

Word Count: 2.1k

When you regained consciousness, your eyes began to flutter open. The momentary confusion was evident in your gaze, and the surroundings around you felt hazy. However, the darkness was something you easily recognized. Your brows furrowed in slight pain, and you felt a severe headache pounding against your skull. Your Jedi senses appeared dull, leaving you feeling a touch jaded. While your mind was trying to catch up, you laid there for a brief period of time, letting your fingertips feel the silk sheets of a strange bed.

Slowly, you sat up in bed, wincing slightly as the movement worsened the ache in your head. Your eyes finally began to adjust as you took in your surroundings. Your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of your surroundings, scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and bewilderment. The fog of unconsciousness slowly lifted, allowing you to regain a basic awareness of your immediate environment. It was dark; the walls and floor were painted black, which matched the furniture within, and the blinds of the window shielded the outside world. The room looked extravagant yet simple, which reminded you of your home back in the temple-

The temple. 

There was a subtle shift in your facial expression—a flicker of recognition—as your mind grappled with a dark realization. Your eyes widened as you proceeded to throw off the sheets, trying to hastily spring from the strange bed. You yelped when you almost stumbled, and your legs were tangled in the sheets due to haste. Your mind was in shambles as you continued your way to the window, blocking out any source of light. Despite your headache and the panic surging through you, you pressed the button on the wall to remove the blinds. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight, wishing that you had stayed unconscious. 

You were surrounded by land that had been burned by fire, molten from lava, and much more. This gave you the impression that you were in an inferno or inside a volcano that destroyed everything around it. There are many tales of a planet like this that you have heard over the years.

Mustafar. 

Your heart began to race as your mind whirled. ‘No, no, no,’ you repeated to yourself over and over again. You begged to be awoken from your slumber, surely this could be nothing but a bad dream.

But as much as you pleaded, you would never wake. Your nightmares had turned to reality.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you fought a losing battle to stay calm. You fell against the door, pounding it with your fists and sobbing as you called for Anakin. 

When no one answered your pleas, and the door remained firmly shut, you pressed your back against it and slid down. With your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, you wept.

You wept for all the lives lost in the temple massacre as every face you would never see again passed through your memory. You wept for Anakin and whatever sickness had overtaken him to act with such carelessness for life. But most of all, you wept for yourself.

What had you done wrong? What atrocity had you committed to be deserving of such a harsh fate? 

You were a prisoner who’d committed no crime, and you fought to resign yourself to an unknown future. You were at the mercy of a man you’d once thought more virtuous than any other. He’d taken everything from you.

After a few hours of weeping, you began to hear the distinct sounds of approaching footsteps from the hallway, heading towards your room. Your mind switched into defensive mode, quickly bringing yourself to your feet and facing the closed metal door. Your heart pounded against your chest, with anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. You feared not what you would see on the other side.

But rather who. 

It was at this point that the footsteps halted in front of the metal door, after which it automatically opened. The sliding of the door revealed the last person you had ever wanted to see, as your heart would no longer be able to withstand it. You couldn't bear to see him.

Anakin stood in the doorway, dressed in his previous robes. Your eyes darted over the fabric, looking for any hints of blood, that horrific shade of red that used to appear across the floor of the temple and in the cauterized wounds of your fellow Jedi. However, those hints were nonexistent, and you felt sick to realize that there was a glimmer of relief you possessed within. Perhaps he didn’t want to upset you more. 

He moved towards you, kneeling to your level, his hand outstretched to cup your cheek. You recoiled out of instinct, turning your head to avoid the caress of your captor.

A look of pain crossed Anakin’s face before he quickly masked it. This was what he’d been afraid of. He’d let the whole galaxy think he was cruel, but not you. He’d never hurt you. He loved you. Why couldn’t you understand that?

“My love…” Anakin began, but you cut him off with a humorless laugh.

“Love?” you scoffed, “is that what this is to you?”

You turned to meet his gaze and your heart clenched inside your chest. His eyes looked into yours with longing and desperation. But their yellow tone confirmed your fears and reminded you of what he was. He was not your Anakin, not anymore.

“This is not love,” you whispered, “love should never come at such a high and terrible price.”

Though he hid it well, frustration ran through Anakin. He had to make you see.

He caught your wrist in his hand and brought it to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. You gasped and tried to pull back, but he would never let you go.

“Please listen,” he begged.

You sighed, if only to understand why he had done what he’d done, you would listen.

“I’ve spent my whole life loving you,” he confessed, “I couldn’t let some code keep us apart my love. You are my world, my whole universe, without you there is no reason to breathe. I could not stand another night pretending that I don’t want you, that I don’t need you. I’d sooner destroy every planet than live only loving you from a distance. I couldn’t keep denying what was true in my heart.” His grip tightened gently on your hand that was still pressed to his chest. 

“I would do anything for you baby,” he leaned forward until his lips were pressed to the shell of your ear, “I already have.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears once more; the sick affection lacing his words made your heart skip a beat, and if the situation had been different, you would have returned his passion. However, the haunting images of those people who’d once walked among you, now dead in the hallways, couldn’t leave your thoughts. 

“Anakin…” You began, your tears threatening to fall down your face once more as your body became rigid from the way his forehead pressed against your temple, his lips brushing against your skin. “You killed innocent people, our people; I would have never agreed to this!” 

You pulled away from him slightly, making Anakin reluctantly follow suit as your eyes met once more, his yellow irises seeming to pierce your entire being. His grip on your hand pressed against his chest was strong, refusing the notion of losing your sacred touch. 

“I know you wouldn’t, my love,” He replied, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You’re so sweet and innocent, but that’s why I had to take you baby, don’t you understand?” Anakin brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, “every night I’d be plagued by visions of your corpse my love, I needed to protect you but the high council never would have let us be together. I did this for you. I refuse to lose you over some code; I’ll destroy the entire galaxy if it means making you mine and safe.” 

His golden gaze darkened for a moment, which you almost didn’t catch. The idea of his visions coming true caused a sick feeling that threatened to overtake him. 

“You’ll understand that one day.” He concluded. 

Your jaw dropped. You were sure Anakin had had his fair share of girls falling at his feet, and maybe one of them would have envied your position.

But you were a Jedi Knight. You were once a youngling, chosen to be a Padawan, eventually advancing to your station now. You’d earned your place alongside Anakin and all those who had fought to maintain order and justice for the peace and freedom of the galaxy.

You may be sweet, but you were not innocent, and you certainly didn’t need anyone else’s protection.

The fear that had crept into your heart was replaced by a burning anger. It wasn’t up to anyone but yourself to decide what was best for you. Anakin wasn’t the master of your fate, you were.

“Anakin,” you began, maintaining your calm demeanor so as not to upset your captor, “you have to let me go. Nothing will hurt me Ani, I’m going to be fine, but you must atone for your crimes.”

You gathered your courage, “what you did was wrong, no matter if you think you did it for the right reasons. You have to turn yourself in, and you have to let me go.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, his heart racing from the words he was hearing fall from your precious lips. This wasn’t what he was expecting at all. In his mind, he thought you would have been happy for what he did—fall into his arms and return his feelings. He didn’t expect you to retaliate and say such horrible things. You’ve never spoken against him before, ever. 

“Turn myself in?” He repeated as his eye gave a subtle twitch, his yellow orbs darkening as he tried to swallow his anger. “Don’t you turn against me now; nothing is going to harm you because I’m here, without the code getting in my way. You're safe because of me. You would do well to remember that, my love.” 

"No Anakin..." You whispered, pulling yourself out of his grasp once more, the storm in your eyes growing stronger yet the breaking of your heart was undeniable. "I'm imprisoned by a monster and I would rather die than return your feelings." 

"W-What?" He whispered, feeling like his heart was being ripped from his chest. It was like he could barely breathe. as panic began to course through him for the first time in a long while.  "Don't you ever say that to me."

"I love you, my sweet girl..." Anakin continued, trying to step closer to you but you continued backing away. He felt like he could die at this moment, being refused your affection and love. "I know you feel the same way..." 

"I did once..." You answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing your arms, ignoring the tears threatening to escape you once more. "But I will never love a monster, the Anakin I loved is gone."

Anakin fought to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks, your words cut deeper than any swipe of a lightsaber he’d ever received. You were his everything, yet here you were, treating him as if he were nothing.

“Then the Anakin you loved was a lie,” he whispered, “I am who I’ve always been.”

He grasped your wrist firmly, careful not to hurt you but desperate to remind you that he was a powerful man. “All I want,” he ran a hand down your cheek causing you to flinch away, making his heart clench, “all I’ve ever wanted…was you.”

You pulled your wrist from his grasp. He sighed as he let you. “Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go, not ever.” 

You lip quivered as you fought back tears of your own. 

“I’ll be back when you’ve learned to accept that,” he told you, his voice breaking. The door closed behind him, sealing you into your room that might as well have been a cell.

“No! Wait!” you rushed to pound on the door but to no avail.

“Let me go Anakin,” you sobbed, “you have to let me go. Please, please let me go.” Your body shook and you choked as your tears flowed, forming a puddle on the ground.

Anakin leaned on the other side of the sealed door, head in his hands as his own tears fell. He hated to hear you so upset. He longed to pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around your cute, tiny frame. He imagined how he’d hum to you and dry your tears as he rocked you back and forth. 

Yet he knew that you’d only reject his comforting embrace. He wept, your desperate cries too much for him to bear. He’d do anything for your love. 

Anything but let you go.

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Tagging: Comment to be added!!

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[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

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[oceansssblue]

Hello, I hope that you are having an amazing day. If requests are still open, I have a funny Star Wars prompt/or/oneshot if you want. You know how in Top Gun, after Maverick flirts with a lady at a bar, only to find out the next day that she is his superior officer. What about a similar situation in the Clone Wars era, in which one of the members of the Bad Batch, or one of the 501st like Fives, flirts with a female Jedi reader (who's probably in her early twenties) at the 79s, not knowing that she is a Jedi General. Only to find out the next day that she is the Jedi General assigned to them for their next mission.

Her appearance in the bar makes her look nothing like a Jedi. She just looks like a civilian until she is in her jedi robes the next day. She doesn't deliberately deceive them or anything. She just wanted to unwind after an undercover mission. She just didn't think bringing up that she is a Jedi was important, she assumed they already knew. The only hint she gave on their "date" night was a happy and playful "see you tomorrow" as they part ways to get to their respective homes/barracks. She is happy to see them the next day.

Cool fun little oneshot! Decided to go with Crosshair, seems more like his thing.

Hope you like it!

Xx,

Sky.

"SEE YOU TOMORROW"

CROSSHAIR/F REDADER 📩💖

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, FLIRTING&TEASING.

Your muscles still ache after a two year undercover mision in Alcaz. Spending long hours of running and hiding in the capital will do that to anyone; even a Jedi. Your first mision with the Order started years ago; even if you're still young right now. Everyone starts early these days; you went from youngling to padawan and Jedi Knight in just a blink of an eye. The war makes you feel older than what you really are.

It's weird being back in Coruscant. Back in a normal setting were you don't need to constantly be aware of your surroundings –even if it's instinctual, now–; where you're not constantly in danger. Entering 79's, your eyes quickly flickering over the crowd of tipsy clones and the dance floor, a tiny smile makes it up to your face. You feel inmediately relieved, somehow. You don't need to pretend here. You don't need to be a soldier, a Jedi Knight, a General. You don't have responsabilities and lifes dangling from your shoulders. Here, right now, you can just be you, a simple girl in her twenty-two's.

Happy smile still in your face, you make your way towards the bar. You order a sweet drink light on the alcohol side to start with; turning around and taking small sips while you scan the bar distractedly. There's a few eyes on you already. Not because you're necesarily pretty –though you believe yourself to look alright–; but simply necause you're one of the few natives around here, and more so a woman. Clones will always be ever the gentleman, it's ingrained in their discipline, their sense of honor; but they're still men, real humans, and they have urges like everyone else. Like Jedis do, too, no matter what many people think.

You're not really in the mood for sex, though. You're too tired for that; your plan is to spend a few hours drinking and chatting and then return to the Temple. You've got a meeting tomorrow, and you should make sure you get your well deserved, comfortable sleep. You're almost drooling thinking of a bed already, but you'd like to unwind a bit first; even though your body is tired, you feel your mind too active to surrender to dreamland yet. Plus, you need to disconect from your previous mision and adapt to your new situation; to the new changes.

A few troopers that you had the chance to meet before starting your jump around the galaxy to serve to the Jedi and the Republic recognises you, and you quickly find yourself chatting amicably in a booth with them. They're kind, and perfectly respectful; they speak to you as if you were a normal person, though –not a general, not a Jedi–, and you soon fall into a relaxed posture and a lazy smile. None of you speak about war, about their fears and worries; but of hopes and desires, jokes and secret lovers that await for them patiently all over Coruscant. Some look flustered after realising they've confessed such things in front of you; but you just shake your head and smile. You're glad they're finding some happiness wherever they can.

On your third drink in –and probably the last one, judging by your flushed cheeks and the low hum of carefree excitement & arousal spreading inside of you– you feel another stare on you. It's heavy, it's intent so clear it's almost screaming at you; and you listen to your Jedi instincts, eyes slowly flickering around the bar to find it's owner.

You come up with a pair of dark brown eyes. They're the exact same shade of most of the clones in the GAR; and yet, it's stare so much more intense. It could almost cut through you and hit someone on the other side.

You study him curiously in the same way he has been observing you before. Even sitting down in a booth with some other soldiers, you can tell he's taller than most; the shape of his body and muscles long and thin, agile, though still strong. It's impossible not to notice the tattoo around his right eye; it fits him well, really. What surprises you most about him –besides his stare– is his hair, though; a mix of greys so pretty it almost shines under the lights of the 79's.

He's still dressed up on armour, like a lot of other soldiers on the bar. His is black and grey with a few stripes of dark red; a white skull with a "99" underneath it on his right pauldron. It's right then and there when you understand who he is, who they are; and your eyes twinkle in amusement, your smile widening. This is Clone Force 99, the squad that will be under your command. The Council told you they were different, that they had special abilities very useful for battles; but they fail to mention you they were literally, physically different as well.

You understand... Crosshair's –he must be– cautious and curious study then; he might be wanting to find out who exactly their new General is, and how does she behave when she's not on duty like everyone else.

You shoot him a grin and Crosshair's neutral, almost uniterested face turns into a smirk. He arches an eyebrow, and makes a gesture with his head; a welcome for you to join them in their table. You nod and say your goodbyes to the troopers; smiling and shooting one or two more playful comments before making your way across the room, walking confidently to this squad of extraordinary men.

"Hey there, boys" you greet them, deciding for informality in order to not spoil their night of fun from the start. "Care if I join?"

There's various reactions around the table. Crosshair looks amused. Echo and Tech are purely surprised –the later one quickly scanning you almost as if trying to find information about you with just his eyes–; while Hunter looks hesitant. Wrecker is openly excited and happy.

"Yeah, take a sit!" He pushes his brothers to one side, making room for you in the circular booth their sitting in, ignoring the other's quiet, pained grunts.

They all look a little tipsy too.

You chuckle and take the offer, letting down your drink on top of the table and sitting besides Wrecker. Crosshair arches his eyebrow again, still finding amusing how you seem confident enough in a table –a bar– surrounded by men. He likes confidence in a woman, but such levels are a bit more rare.

"Comfortable?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth, almost a lazy drawl, and you grin back at him.

"Very" you answer, emphasising your answer by taking a long sip of your alcohol and laying lazily against the booths backrest.

After holding his stare for a few seconds, you turn your attention back to the rest of the group; scanning them curiously. They do de same with you.

"So, didn't have time to do a change of clothes?" You point out. "Did you come back from a mission today, or is this just an night outfit choice?"

Wrecker laughs, will Echo and Hunter show a tiny smile. Tech is completely serious still, lost in his thoughts without tearing his eyes from you. Crosshair also stares at you.

"We came back from a mission a pair of hours ago, yeah" Hunter finally answers, relaxing slowly. "Thought we should enjoy a bit of freedom before getting back to work tomorrow".

His voice is deep as well; a bit more soft yet raspy.

"Ah" you answer, smiling guiltily. "Got it. Well, I'm not going to cut out your fun, no worries. Feel free to drink and chat as much as you like. Also... This is still a good fit. Beautiful armour, guys".

This time Tech blushes, Echo clears his throat in silence and Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair, all smile widely. Ah, yes, you forgot; armours are precious to all Mandalorians, including clones, and you could have very well call them...

"So you think we're hot? That it?" Crosshair drawls, eyes interested.

You laugh shrugging your shoulders. Yeah, well, you might be a little too tipsy. This is definitely your last drink if you want to keep things professional. Force knows if you weren't a Jedi and this weren't your men you'd have had already tried to take one of them home. Huh, it seems you're not as tired as you thought.

"Pretty" you correct him, if only to mock him a bit and play with him.

Crosshair's stare darkens and you can feel his arousal and want calling you through the Force.

You smile down playing with the rim of your glass distractedly, and feeling a sudden wave of shyness. Alcohol is a dangerous thing.

The thought makes you giggle a bit.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The night goes on, and you switch to a non-alcohol drink as promised to yourself. The conversation turns normal and more easy as the clock ticks by; all of them being very interesting, fun people to chat with. Crosshair and Echo are more reserved than the rest; different types of quiet observing and thoughtfullness. You suspect the second one isn't as comfortable with your presence as the rest –while you have no doubt that that wouldn't suppose a problem in battlefield, you know he's an excellent soldier–; while Crosshair... Crosshair's intentions are still quite clear.

He's bold, you have to say. Most troopers wouldn't want to risk being reported for misconduct even if they know most Jedis would just gently shut their intentions down if it were the case. Clones usually don't want to risk it; though it's evident that Crosshair doesn't think you will or plainly, doesn't care.

It doesn't bother you. He's attractive, and it feels good to be desired; you're a Jedi, but you're also just twenty-two, and you can't help it yourself. Still, you're nothing but polite to him, if only a bit of playfullness here and there. You're not going to go to bed with him, not before your oficial meeting; not while you can still resist.

You sigh with a smile.

"Well, boys, it has been a pleasure" you start, standing up and patting Wrecker's shoulder besides you. "But I think I'm gonna go and try to shut an eye. Have your fun without me, see you tomorrow!"

Tech eyes widen slightly, observing your retreating figure while Crosshair makes a move to follow you out of 79's.

Tech grabs his brother's shoulder and pulls him back down, ignoring Crosshair's almost snarl.

"She expressed her desire to go to sleep, Crosshair. Let her be" he opted to say, still not 100% sure of his theory before proving it with a quick search on his datapad.

Crosshair sighed and gulped down the remaining of his drink.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

No matter that the Batch had left 79's pretty late in the night, they were all rised and prepared to meet their new General at 0600 puntually. Their faces carried nag under their eyes and various degrees of tiredness; but they weren't being shipped anywhere, so there was no real problem with that. It was just a formal meeting so they could put a face to the name and greet each other; then they'll be left alone to enjoy the rest of their shore-leave day.

"I hope she's nice!" commented Wrecker while they waited up in a line in front of the Marauder.

Hunter hummed.

"I just hope she lets us do our thing" he muttered, clearly not very happy about the new placement.

None of them were particularly enthusiastic; they had never had a personal Jedi General before, and it would be a big change for everyone involved.

"I am confident she will" answered Tech, perhaps the only one holding positive thoughts about it. "I have thoroughly researched our General in the early hours of the morning and she has an impressive record on undercover missions and other side tasks. It seems she is usually sent on unusual requests as well, just like us. In adition, she is fairly easy going. I am positive we would all be able to adapt to each other well".

Right when Wrecker was going to ask with a deep frown etched on his face how did he know she was as "easy-going" as Tech affirmed, a female figure crossed the doors of the hangar walking towards them with wide confident steps.

Wrecker's, Echo's and Hunter's faces stared back in shock; while Tech nodded firmly as if he were explaining something to them, and Crosshair followed the young Jedi's movement full of intrigue and a masked surprise.

"Morning, troopers!" She greeted them, still a few meters away from them.

Her smile was radiant in the greyness of the hangar bay.

Crosshair leaned towards the smartest of his brothers, subtle.

"Punishment for fucking your Jedi General?" he asked in a distracted whispered, eyes never leaving the woman aproaching them.

Tech answered completely unbothered by his antics; posture firm.

"From an informal reprimand to proper decomissioning".

Crosshair smirked.

"I'll risk it".

He arched an eyebrow in amused defiance when she looked straight at him.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taraaa! Here it is love, hope you like it! It was a little fun cheeky thing to write :)

Not checked after finishing writing it cause I have exam tomorrow and still got a few finals left, but I hope I didn't make a lot of mistakes!

Only two more requests left before I jump onto another tbb Mermaid fic. Don't worry, yall, I will reopen requests the future, just let me survive my exams first ;)

Stay tunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to masterlist here:

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika [happy]

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: HEY THIS IS DARK WATCH OUT, stalking, manhandling, slight choking if you kind of squint, dubcon (reader is willing, but is def under the influence of the darksaber), smut, hand job, mentions of blood and injury, mentions of permanent scarring of the reader

Word Count: 6,717

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you. Part One: Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika Part Two: I Love You, Cyar'ika

[a/n: THIS IS THE HAPPY ENDING TO THIS TRILOGY. My suggestion is to read the version you really want first b/c the beginning half is the exact same. It's only the end that differs.]

.

"sometimes, you just need a fresh start. a new beginning. a clean slate. just get rid of everything going wrong and make it go right." -the importance of starting over

.

The echoing of your footsteps bounced off the walls and the quick pace seemed to match the racing of your heart. No looking back. You needed to get to the tarmac. Din was supposed to be in the war room with Bo Katan and the others in his council discussing something or another. This morning he had told you that he wouldn’t be able to meet you for lunch until a bit later in the afternoon. Half an hour after he had told you this, you grabbed your stuff and started running. 

You had the right idea months ago when you first tried to leave. This was going to be your last chance. If he caught you this time you don’t know that you’d ever get the chance to run away again. Memories of that beskar chain and anklet hung heavy in your mind as you picked up your pace. A terrifying thought occurred to you. Would he stop there? How far would Din go to keep you by his side? You truly believed, deep down, that Din wouldn’t hurt you, but… were you just being delusional? At some point, he’d consider the line to be crossed.

The tarmac was mostly empty. The few Mandalorians that were in the area gave you curious looks, but nobody dared stop you. That was a side effect of being ‘owned’ by the Mand’alor and though you found it disturbing previously it was truly working in your favor now. Everybody on this rock, save for a few people like Bo Katan, were too terrified of Din to even look in your direction for longer than a few seconds. As you sprinted to the closest ship you knew how to pilot, the Mandalorians began to disperse. You had a suffocating suspicion that they were in the process of calling Din.

You made it further than you had last time. You were on the ship, ramp closing behind you, and you clambered into the cockpit and got things running. As the ship slowly began to rise, you saw him. Din stood at the edge of the tarmac with his hands on his hips. The wind tunneling through the ship’s exhaust and down onto the ground below caused Din’s thick cape and hair to whip around. Even from this distance, you could feel Din’s gaze burning straight through you. The look on his face was haunting⏤ a mix of devastation and unbridled rage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Even after the ship was in the atmosphere and Din was far out of view, you stared down at Mandalore in pain. Your chest ached as your heart already begun to miss the man you were running from.

Before allowing yourself to wallow, you input the coordinates to Tatooine and let the ship slip into hyperdrive. The second those all too familiar lines of blurred space cast a blue glow in the cockpit, you pulled your knees up into your chest to bury your face there. If somebody were to ask you the exact reason why tears streamed down your face you would not be able to give them an answer.

You just knew, everything was wrong.

You agonized over who to send a message to. As you drew ever near to Tatooine, doubts began to plague your mind. Should you reach out to Boba and Fennec? They were obvious choices because they cared about Din and they knew how to hold their own in a fight. However, you had a nagging fear at the back of your mind that would not silence. It blared like a ghostly siren. Din was not himself right now, and though you knew without a doubt that he would not hurt you, could the same be said for Boba and Fennec? Especially if they stood in the way of Din getting to you?

You hated that you were unsure of that.

You hated that a part of you honestly thought Din might hurt his friends or worse.

There was no changing course though. The best solution you had was to get in touch with Luke Skywalker. He might have answers about this. Even if he didn’t, having him and Ahsoka by your side would help. Three Jedi surely could get that cursed saber away from Din. Granted, there was no assurance that separating the saber from the love of your life would actually work, but it was all you had. It was the last bit of hope you could cling to. 

Upon your arrival to Tatooine, you immediately slunk away to a crowded cantina. You were not a fool. You knew Din was not just going to let you wander away and you knew he was one of the deadliest bounty hunters in the galaxy. He was very good at what he did⏤ especially when passionate about the mission. That didn’t leave you very much time to get the information you needed. 

You sent out a decoded distress message to the number Skywalker had left you when he took Grogu. He left it strictly for emergencies and this obviously classified as one. After it was out in the universe, all you could do was wait. So you saddled up to the bar, sat on a stool, and ordered a drink. It was all you could think to do. This was the first time in ages that you were in a space not clouded by Din’s presence. You hadn’t realized until now how suffocating it had been.

Being with Din, watching his slow descent, you had gotten accustomed to that cloud of darkness that hung over his head. To the point where you didn’t notice it worsening and worsening. It felt as if your body had acclimated to living under the ocean. Your body grew used to the crushing depths. Your lungs shriveled from the lack of oxygen. Your eyes grew blind from the absence of light. Now? Sitting at this dingy, dirty bar, it was as if someone had forced you up from the ocean floor and dragged you quickly up to the surface. It was jarring. The fresh air was painful as it filled your lungs, your eyes burned from the disappearance of darkness, and suddenly it was freedom that felt wrong. 

A sudden beeping made you glance down at the communicator. Eyes wide, you answered it, “Hello? Luke Skywalker?” Your name was spoken over the line in concern. “Thank the Maker. I⏤ Din and I are in trouble.”

“What has happened?”

“It’s…” You took in a slow breath and began to walk him through what was going on. You started with the moment he took Grogu and described every single downward step the two of you had taken with the saber in his possession. When you finished, your throat felt thick with emotion. “I got away, but he’ll be after me soon. I know it. Luke, I… I don’t know what to do. I just know I need help, and I’m too afraid to go to anybody other than you.”

“You were right to reach out to me.” Luke sighed. “This needs to be handled by us. No need to risk anyone else.”

The thought flickered through your head without warning. You were okay with putting Luke Skywalker and Ahsoka in danger. It came quickly and you swatted it away just as fast, but it felt like poison. Obviously, Boba and Fennec meant more to you than Luke and Ahsoka. You were closer to the first two. However, it still didn’t make risking the lives of the latter two okay. The fact that the belief attempted to nestle in your head reminded you of the dark saber. Your hand wrapped around your own lightsaber⏤ seeking comfort in the energy it radiated.

“You believe he’ll follow you, correct?” Luke questioned.

“Absolutely.” You answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Luke hummed on the other end of the line in thought. “I will send you coordinates. Come to us. The Mandalorian will follow and we will handle this from there. You just need to get here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself. “I can. I’ll leave as soon as you send me those coordinates.”

“Of course. Call us again if you have trouble.”

“Thank you.”

The call ended and you threw back the remainder of the drink before rushing for the door. It would take fifteen minutes to get to the tarmac and you assumed you’d get the coordinates by then to use. The crowded Tatooine streets made you anxious. Shoulders clipped into yours as people rushed past you in the opposite direction. It felt like there were eyes burning into your skin, but every scan of the crowd told you it had to just be your paranoia. 

Your communicator beeped again and a quick glance down revealed the coordinates you’d be heading to. Good. You quickened your pace to turn a corner to the last leg of the path that would take you to the public tarmac when you spotted him. A flash of glinting silver under the hot Tatooine suns. Your feet came to a screeching halt, and for a moment the two of you stood stock still. Din was down the road. Closer to the tarmac’s entrance than to you. His hands rested on his hips, and he was helmetless. Even from this distance the darkness swimming in his brown eyes sent a chill down your spine. He had been a sight to behold in his full armor, a faceless figure of intimidation. However, you knew now that it was worse without the helmet. Actually seeing those burning eyes, rather than just feel them, made your stomach flip.

The crowd ebbed and flowed, a small group passing between the two of you, and when they passed fully Din was gone. You couldn’t see him. Without a second more of hesitation, you spun on your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction of where he had been standing. The public tarmac was a bust. You’d never be able to successfully route yourself back around, but you still needed a ship.

Peli’s shop. As soon as it came to mind, you altered course to head in that direction. You prayed that Peli wasn’t home. Hopefully she’d be out losing credits to a group of jawas in sabbac or conning some poor sap at the market. Your chest burned in the effort it took to keep your quick pace, your heart pounded painfully, and you could still feel Din’s eyes on you. Every time you glanced over your shoulder or down alleys there was no sign of silver, but you knew⏤ you just knew⏤ that he was hot on your heels somehow. 

You finally reached Peli’s shop and the garage was closed which meant she was not home, but you remembered the way in through the back. Peli had shown it to you and Din ages ago. Even if she didn’t have a client’s ship sitting in the bay, you could steal her land speeder and come up with a different plan from there. Once in, your eyes landed on a small ship parked in the main bay and your lips curled up into a relieved smile. Find the FOB, get the ship open and started. You rushed to Peli’s office and cursed the wrecked state it was in. Her baseline was chaotic and it showed in her organization choices. You dug through the mess until you found a FOB that seemed to match the ship waiting for you.

Victorious, you sprinted out of the office back down to the bay, but the second your feet stepped into the open area something hard slammed into you. The air was knocked from your lungs as you landed on the ground. Din’s features stared down at you as his body straddled yours. One of his gloved hands pinned down your dominant hand while the other clamped down on your throat⏤ not enough to restrict air, but just enough to convey his warning. You could see your fearful eyes reflected in the beskar covering him as he towered over you. Din’s face didn’t look angry or worried. He didn’t look scared or confused. Din looked cold. Emotionless. Somehow that was worse.

“Din⏤”

“Don’t.” Din said sharply. The fingers on your neck flexed once. “Don’t speak, cyar’ika.”

More suffocating than his demeanor and broad figure was the poisonous energy seeping out of the saber hung on his belt. You were drowning in it, struggling to keep your head above it’s dark waters, and Din was pushing you beneath the waves. He held you under. Din was a man drowning and in your attempt to rescue him he was dragging you to the depths as well. 

“How could you do this to me?” Din asked. His voice cracked⏤ the only sign of his pain. “Cyar’ika, you…” Din swallowed. A flash of heartbreak filled his expressive brown eyes and the degree of his hurt briefly made you feel guilty. Like you had been the one to betray him. “I love you. You are my everything. I would burn the world for you. How could⏤ How could you leave?”

“I never asked for you to burn the world for me, Din.” You whispered. “That’s not what I want.”

Din shifted and leaned down so he could rest his forehead against yours. His hand hung loosely around your throat, forearm pressed against your chest, and it was a position your body was familiar with. If you closed your eyes and gave into the darkness trying to claw its way down your throat and into your lungs, then you’d simply feel like you were sharing a private moment of intimacy with your love. Din’s lips suddenly ghosted against yours and you felt your body tremble.

“What is it you want?” Din begged. “I will give you anything. I just want you safe by my side.”

“I told you what I want, Din…”

Din sighed, his hot breath fanning across your lower face, “I can’t do that.” His voice was strained as if her were in agony. “The saber is how I protect you, cyar’ika.”

“You’re losing me because of that saber, baby.”

For the longest moment, Din remained silent. His eyes were closed and you could see him ruminating over something. After a second, he opened his eyes and Din’s eyebrows furrowed in defeat. A flicker of hope burned in your chest until he opened his mouth and spoke. 

“Things were okay. We just need to start from scratch again. I know you hated that chain, cyar’ika, but it’s for the best.” Din said softly and your eyes widened at how serious his words were. How much he believed that to truly be the best path. “It won’t be forever, I swear it. Just until I trust you again.”

“Din⏤”

“No.” Din snapped. His soft despair turning to a firm demand. “There will be no argument. I’m taking you home.” You opened your mouth once more, but Din’s fingers began to tighten around your throat marginally. “You’re already in trouble, cyar’ika. Don’t make it worse.”

Panic began to make your heart race. You were sinking fast and the light was beginning to disappear from your sight⏤ your freedom with it. In a poor attempt at a final chance of survival, you spoke up despite his order to stay silent. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Din scoffed. “You understand why I find it hard to believe you.”

“I know.” You nodded. “Please, baby. I’m sorry. Please believe me. You know I love you.”

You could feel Din’s thumb around your neck tracing the skin under it as he stared down at you. He took in a deep breath and leaned in to press his forehead against yours once more. Din brushed his lips lightly against yours. “You’re always so pretty when you beg, cyar’ika.” That was the one thing you had working in your favor. Din always had a hard time telling you ‘no’ when your bodies were folded together like this. “I’ll hear you out, but let’s get to our ship first.”

“Why not now? Let me tell you how sorry I am, Din.” You begged and he let out a soft sigh as his eyes closed. Your eyes darted to the saber on his belt. If you ended up back on Mandalore it would be over. There would be no second chance. Determined, you rolled your hips up and just as you suspected you were met with the firmness of his half hard cock. Din groaned. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” Your non-dominant hand had been clutching at the hand he had at your throat, but you very slowly let it travel up his arm to bury in his soft hair. “Please, baby.”

You tilted your head up as much as you could with Din’s hand clamped around your neck. Carefully, in fear that too quick or sudden a movement would break the spell, you began to pull Din down closer. Din hesitated against the slight force of your hand only for a second before he slotted his lips against yours. As always, Din’s touch set you aflame. He released the wrist he had pinned and hooked that hand under your thigh to spread your legs so he could settle between them rather than straddle you. You should be focused on escape alone, but the taste of him made you hungry for more. You weren’t sure how much was your love for Din and how much was the saber twisting it into something recognizable. 

Din’s teeth caught your lower lip, and he pulled back a breath, “You’re supposed to be showing me how sorry you are, cyar’ika.” He leaned back down to lick into your mouth, his kiss crushing and near painful as Din’s hips pressed firmly against yours. He left his lips close enough that you felt every word he spoke. “Yet here I am…” Din gave a sharp thrust and even with layers of clothes between the two of you he was able to snap the bulge of his erection right where your clit was hidden. You gasped at the pleasure that rocketed up your spine as hot pangs arousal pooled in your lower belly. “...doing all the damn work.”

At his words, you closed the space to press your lips against his again, deepening the kiss, as your hands traveled to his belt. You undid his belt with practiced ease, and while one hand slipped under the waistband of his flight suit to find the base of his cock the other went to grasp the saber.

Your fingers brushed against the thrumming metal of the saber for only a second before Din’s hand slapped on top of yours pinning it to the saber. Everything froze. Din and you were both panting, breathless from your kiss. You had one hand stuffed into his pants with your hand pressed against his skin on the space above the base of his cock and the other on the saber. Din had one hand tightening around your neck while his other crushed your fingers against the darksaber. He chuckled and the sound sent chills throughout your body.

“Let go, Cyar’ika.” Din’s voice was gruff and seemed to rumble out from his chest. You began to try and pull both hands back, but Din grunted. “Not both. Just the saber.” You sucked in a sharp breath and remained frozen. “What? You don’t want to finish what you started?” He shoved one hand down his pants to roughly grab yours and force your hand to wrap around the entirety of his throbbing cock. It was like this tense moment was spurning him onwards⏤ filling him with a thrill you had never seen before. “I thought you were sorry.”

You hated how his words made your own core ache with want. 

Din snapped the saber off his belt tossed it off to the side. Too far for you too reach, but close enough that its influence weighed heavy on you still. He did the same to your own weapon which was hooked in its usual place on your belt. Din threw that one further, more carelessly, before lowering his face back down toward yours. His hand was still wrapped around yours, and Din thrusted into your dry grip. It couldn't be comfortable you thought, but Din moaned in your ear as if it were already drunk in pleasure.

“Din…” You murmured.

His hot mouth enveloped yours, tongue licking into you, as he thrusted twice more. Din’s teeth caught your lower lip again, but this time he bit down hard enough that the taste of metallic blood flashed across your taste buds. You yelped, he thrusted into your grip, and then Din pulled back just enough that you could see his lips painted with the red of your own blood.

“Are you going to make me take you?” He asked in a harsh whisper. “Or will you come willingly?” Din pressed his bloodstained lips against the side of your face, dragging, and you shuddered as a cold, but tempting, chill filled your body. “I’ll spend eternity chasing you, cyar’ika, but it will be more enjoyable if you just agree to be mine again.”

His lips found yours once more, and for one second you weren’t in your body. Your mind clouded with a sort of vision. You saw Din sitting on Mandalore’s throne splattered with blood he had drawn from others and his features masked in a cold indifference. The saber was not on his belt, but any confusion you had on it’s location faded as a different version of you came into view. She wore an elegant and revealing gown that was as dark as a starless night, and the inactive saber was held tight in her grip as blood covered her hands and left a trail of red petals as she passed. While Din’s face held a cold indifference this version of you looked feral with enjoyment. 

She settled herself on Din’s lap and the mask he wore cracked to reveal adoration as he stared up at this other you in awe. Without wasting a beat, this unrecognizable version of yourself pulled Din into a firm kiss. The blood on the hands that resembled yours smeared against his stainless beskar, and the blood on his face left smears along features you spent your entire life staring at in a mirror. Suddenly, the other you broke away to turn and it seemed she was glaring directly at you.

The saber in her hand activated and burned with a soul sucking energy that seemed to draw you in.

“Be mine.” Din’s voice snapped you back into the moment. “Be my queen, cyar’ika. I want no else.” He pressed his lips to yours again but in a way that was too soft to match the rest of this situation. The tip of his tongue dragged through the torn tissue of your lower lip and you shivered. “Let me protect you as you rule by my side.”

And you wanted it. It was like your body had finally reached the lowest depths and your lungs were filling with the dark water you were drowning in. It was almost peaceful allowing yourself to settle into the cold⏤ allowing it to swallow you whole. Distantly, you could feel the crystal in your lightsaber desperately calling out to you, but you were certain no light could reach you where you were. Cold turned to pleasure as Din’s hands began to map the familiar planes of your body. 

“I’ve always been yours.” You whispered. Din molded his lips to yours and he pulled your hand out from where it was hidden under his waistband so he could have to room and access to begin frantically undoing your own belt. You lifted your hips so he could tug your pants down past your ass and off entirely. He didn’t bother with his own pants, deciding to just tug them down enough to be useful, and  Din settled between your legs. As he worked himself out of his pants he planted his lips against the hollow of your neck.

You tilted your chin up, panting, as you gave him more room to work his tongue against the skin there. Every atom of your being was throbbing and aching for the man on top of you, but briefly a glimmer of pain lanced through your heart. A reminder. You thought you were too deep in for the light to reach you, but your lightsaber’s call managed one faint echo. A weak lifeline back to the surface. Without thinking, your hand reached reached out to where the sabers were cast aside and for the first time in your life you felt the Force do more than just read an energy. It enveloped the space around you and seconds later something firm was in the palm of your hand.

You cried out, managing to roll Din and yourself over so you now straddled him. The saber activated in your hand and rather than the warm familiar glow you wanted, you were greeted by the soul sucking, burning energy of the darksaber lighting up in your hands. Your eyes widened in alarm. The power that washed over you was overwhelming. It rocketed up your arm and pierced your very soul. Din laid on the ground under you as you stared at the cold glow of the saber burning in your hands, and you heard him begin to laugh in amusement. 

“Maker, you’ve never looked prettier, cyar’ika.” Din grinned⏤ the look in his dark eyes was wild with desire. “How does it feel?”

Your skin was crawling as if someone was holding a live wire to it. A tremor shook your body and it took you a moment to detangle your mind away from the raw pleasure that screamed out to you. The darksaber was sinking it’s cold claws into every aspect of who you were and you could feel your reality slipping away from you. You tightened your hand around the hilt and began to squeeze. It was hard to focus the Force to bend to your will with the darksaber’s influence pressing down on you, but you clenched your teeth and squeezed harder. The crack of bending metal filled the air.

“No.” Din growled and his hands roughly pawed at you, to try and take the saber from your grip, but you raised your hands up above your head and continued to squeeze until you felt actual pain began to seep into your body. “Stop! Don’t!” 

The metal cracked further, heat began to lick out of the hilt as the saber’s burning energy flickered and grew wild. It was burning your hands, leaving the flesh it touched raw. Din screamed out at you to stop again, but you couldn’t hear him over the high pitched ringing the darksaber’s kyber crystal seemed to emit. The saber was angry⏤ the saber was scared. You focused every bit of your body’s energy to channel the Force. You screamed in agony as the saber was crushed under your grip. The crystal cracked and the energy stored in it grew volatile and unstable. With one final push of power, the crystal shattered into pieces within the crushed hilt of the saber and the release of energy blew you backwards into the dirt. 

Your ears from ringing from the blast. Your head ached painfully, you could feel blood matted in your hair from where the back of your head had slammed into the ground, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the miserable and excruciating pain that was radiating up your arms. Shakily, you lifted your hands up to try and examine them. Even though your sight was growing blurry, you could still make out the state of your hands. Scorched flesh, raw and torn, greeted you and warm blood was dripping from the spots where jagged bits of kyber crystal embedded in your skin. It rained down on you.

“No, no, no, no.”

Din was suddenly in your line of vision as he cupped the side of your face in fear and disbelief. Your hands, heavy with exhaustion, fell limp and they didn’t even hurt much anymore. You were having trouble feeling anything actually. “Please, Maker, no.” Din gasped. His voice was ragged and hoarse. Tears were swimming in his eyes and for the first time in ages, you recognized the clarity. “Cyar’ika, no, please…”

Your lips twitched up in a smile as you gazed up at him. You sighed in relief, “It’s you.” Din’s face crumpled as the tears streaked down his cheeks as he tried to pull you closer. “You’re back, baby.”

His voice seemed far away. As your eyelids grew heavy, you still felt content. If these were to be your last moments you were more than happy to share them with Din Djarin. Your Din Djarin. Pure and kind hearted. Loving and soft. Darkness seemed to envelope you, but it was not the cold darkness the saber used to force you into. This was warm and tender. You felt enveloped in love and your own kyber crystal, loyal and strong, whispered a lullaby as you relaxed into sleep.

.

[three months later]

.

It took you ages to find Din. After waking up in Boba’s palace, post bacta tank infusion, you realized he had slipped away without a word. Boba and Fennec had comforted you, but the only message Din left you was a soft apology passed down along friends. The fact that he hid from you was proof enough that the darksaber’s influence was gone from him. You felt it no longer either. Occasionally, you’d wake from a nightmare and a lingering darkness would cloud your thoughts, but it always dissipated with the morning light. 

You walked slowly toward the bench where he sat armorless. Din wasn’t wearing a shred of beskar, had not a single weapon on him, as he rested his elbows on his knees and stared into the distance where rolling hills and mountains sat. What made him hard to track was he stayed constantly on the move, but you were surprised that this was where he allowed you to catch up with him. You stopped by his side, Din didn’t turn to look at you, and you followed his gaze to see Grogu far in the distance sitting with Luke Skywalker on the crest of a small mountain.

“I don’t know why I came here.” Din mumbled quietly. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Din⏤”

“I don’t deserve to be here.” He added. Din hung his head down and lifted his hands to rub at his face in exhaustion. He shook his head once. “I was supposed to leave before your ship ever entered the atmosphere, but I… I got stuck.”

That made more sense. In a moment of weakness, he stopped to see his son and he hadn’t been able to tear himself away to flee you like he usually did. You reached out to touch his shoulder, but your fingers only managed to graze his shirt before he pushed to stand began to stalk away.

“Din!” You cried out and followed his brisk pace. He walked back to where his small ship at waiting. “Din, please, wait.”

“Leave, cyar’ika.” Din replied firmly.

“No.” You snapped and raced up the ramp into his ship’s tiny cargo hold to slide into his path to stop him. You expected to see anger in his eyes from your disruption, but the only emotion his large brown eyes conveyed was pain and desperation. You felt your heart ache at the way he stared down at you in misery. You shook your head. “Din, will you please talk to me?”

Din swallowed, his voice was hoarse, “There is nothing to talk about.” 

You reached out to rest your hands on his chest, and he glanced down to stare at them. The bacta tank had saved your hands and left you with full use of them, but the scarring remained. The skin was discolored with burn scars and jagged lines where kyber crystals had pierced your skin and left their mark. 

“This wasn’t your fault, baby.” You whispered as you noticed how intently he was staring at your hands. Din shook his head and tried to pull away from your touch but you tightened your hands into fists⏤ clutching his shirt like a lifeline. “Din, I don’t blame you.”

“You should!” Din suddenly yelled and your eyes widened. His hands wrapped around your wrists as he held your gaze. His voice shook. “You should blame me.” Din took in a sharp gasp. “This was all my fault. I was weak.”

“Din.”

“I remember it all.” Din closed his eyes in agony. “Maker, I⏤ I was manhandled you. I chained you to the fucking wall. Held you hostage.”

“Din⏤”

“Hunted you down like a bounty. Forced you into the position where you had to use your body just to distract me so you⏤ I⏤ Maker. Even if you don’t blame me, cyar’ika, I do. I don’t deserve access to my weapons. I don’t deserve the armor of a Mandalorian. I don’t deserve you.”

You held onto him tighter as he tried to pull your hands away from him. “I love you, Din.” He scoffed. “I do. I love you. The darksaber was to blame for all of that and I stayed by your side because I knew that and I refused to lose you to it. I stayed knowing the risk.” Din’s eyes were still shut tightly, but you could see tears collect in his eyelashes. “And I can’t lose you now.”

“Cyar’ika…” He mumbled.

“Open your eyes.” You demanded. You released his shirt but only so you could cup his face with your hands. Din’s entire body trembled under your touch and his hands squeezed your wrists. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me.” Finally, after an agonizing moment, Din opened his eyes and you offered him a small smile. “I love you.” He let out a shaky gasp. “And I can’t sit idly by while you punish yourself for sins that you shouldn’t have to bear. Please don’t run from me. Please let me stay. I’ll keep following you all over the galaxy if I have to or⏤ or if you don’t want me then I’ll… I’ll stop. If that’s what you really want, then I won’t follow.” Din leaned into your touch. “I’m not trying to control or torture you with my presence, I just… I miss you, baby.”

Din closed his eyes again and loosened his grip on your wrists so he could trace them up and lay them over your smaller hands resting on his jaw. He sighed. “I hurt you.” His thumbs traced the scarred skin on the back of your hands. “I did this to you.”

“No, you didn’t. The darksaber did, and I chose to fight that damned thing.”

“If I had been stronger against it then you never would’ve had to.”

“You had no way of knowing, Din.” You shook your head. “It even took me a while to realize how dangerous that saber was and I’m Force sensitive. Nobody in the galaxy would have been able to resist the influence of that kyber crystal even if they knew what it could do. You were blindsided by it.”

Din opened his eyes. “You resisted against it.”

You pressed your lips together then pulled his face toward yours so his forehead was resting against yours. “I knew what it was doing, and it was still the hardest thing I have ever done.” You admitted. “Even now I still feel that darkness crawling across my skin in the dead of the night. Like a ghost haunting me.” You tightened your grip on his jaw. “But you know how I did it?” Din didn’t respond, but you pressed onward. “I did it because I wasn’t going to let anything take you from me. I was not going to let it keep your soul⏤ I was not going to lose you.” Quickly, you pushed forward a pressed a chaste lip to his lips. “Not then. Not now. I will always fight for you. Even if it’s your own guilt I have to fight.”

“Do you want me, cyar’ika?” Din whispered⏤ his voice so soft and faint you almost thought you imagined it. 

You caressed your thumbs against his cheekbones. “I will always want you, baby. Always.”

To prove your point, you tenderly slotted your lips against his. You stayed motionless, just holding him to you, and you could feel a tear trace the outline of your thumb before reaching his lips. It was as if the taste of his salty tear awakened something in him. Din’s mouth began to move against yours desperately. You shifted your hands down and around his neck to cling to him. Din’s own arms wrapped tightly around your torso so he could pull you flush against his body. 

His lips suddenly left your lips to press sloppy, desperate kisses against your jawline then down your neck. Between every touch of his lips against your skin he whispered an apology or an exclamation of love. You tried to drag his lips back up to yours, but he surprised you by falling to his knees. You gasped and stared down at him. Din rested on his heels as his hands hugged the back of your thighs. He stared up at you in adoration, but you could still see agony there as well.

“I am so sorry.” He pleaded like a man begging in prayer at an altar. “I love you, and I am so sorry. I could spend an eternity reminding you of that and it still would not be enough to express how I feel.” Din leaned forward and rest his forehead against your hip. “Ni cuy’ nass ures gar. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim. Ni cuy’ hut’uun.”

You slowly peeled his forehead away from your hip and his hands off your thighs so you could kneel in front of him as well. You held his face once more and wiped away the lingering tears that stained his cheeks. “Cin vhetin.” Din’s eyes widened at the words. A phrase you had Boba teach you. “That’s what I want.”

“Cyar’ika…”

“I hate seeing you speak so poorly of yourself.” Your bottom lip quivered and your throat felt thick. “It pains me to watch you hate yourself⏤ when I love you so much.” Din sucked in a sharp breath. “So, if you love me still, Din, that’s what you’ll give me. Cin vhetin.”

Din paused before he gave you a curt nod. You pulled him into a tight hug, arms clinging to his shoulders, and you were relieved to feel Din hold you just as securely. As if you were both terrified to feel the other slip away again.

.

[three months later]

.

You woke with a start, eyes snapping open in the dark of your bedroom, and the cold, cruel ghost of the darksaber gripped your spine. It crawled up slowly as you tried to push away the lingering nightmare and piece together your reality. The bed under you shifted as someone climbed in beside you. A heavy hand slipped over your abdomen as Din shifted his closer. His bare chest pressed tightly against your back as he held you close.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Din whispered in your ear, voice heavy with sleep. “Grogu woke up wanting a glass of water.” That was your reality. You had the love of your life back, and the green boy you and Din both adopted as your own was back in your lives. You, and the ones you loved, were nestled in your cozy home on Nevarro. Din’s lips pressed against your neck. “Riduur?” The new nickname a reminder of the peace that came with your reality. “Are you alright?”

The warmth of his skin against yours cast away the chill the memory of the darksaber brought. One of his bare, thick thighs slid between your legs until every part of you was tangled with every part of him. You let out a soft sigh of content and nodded. “I’ve never been better, baby.”

Din peppered soft kisses against your shoulders and you fell asleep safe in his arms.

.

mando'a translations:

Ni cuy’ nass ures gar: I am nothing without you. Ni cuy’ osi’yaim: I am a despicable person. Ni cuy’ hut’uun: I am a coward. Cin Vhetin: fresh start, clean slate (term indicating the erasing of a person's past when they become Mandalorian, and that they will only be judged by what they do from that point onwards)

.

[here is the dark ending]

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 20}

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

Summary: The push and pull of memories and power emulate the waves you watch from your balcony as you seek more and more solitary time with the wedding looming closer.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, angst, we meet readers betrothed and he needs his own warning, reader's mother also gets her own warning, kidnapping, reader is being kept against her will, hostage situation, use of narcotics, use of drugs, sedatives, self-depreciating thoughts, ptsd symptoms, medical trauma, past medical trauma, feelings of inadequacy, sexual themes, sexual content (not detailed), non con touching, unwanted advances, emotional manipulation, unnecessary display of possession, memory loss, controlling family dynamics, marriage set up, sold into marriage, din pov and reader pov, lemme know if i missed any other big ones!

A/N: this marks the middle of the maldovan arc! we've got two / three more chapters before we delve into season two events with our dear tin man. my feelings have been all over the place but hopefully i channeled them well into this chapter for y'all ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

Din was used to situations dissolving quickly from what he thought they would be, shifting into quick successions of movements and scenarios his instincts allowed him to maneuver with ease.

But the sight of you covered in nothing but bubbles from a foaming wash, bent over the side of the large communal bath had been something he wasn’t prepared for. Especially since the last time he had been intimate with you had turned out disastrously. His own emotions and devotion to something that wasn’t you tainting the moment and turning it from heated excitement to sour devastation.

The bubbles only reminded him further of the time before that, when you had been propped over his lap, both of you bare and exploring each other’s supple and scarred skin for the first time in the dim candlelight of a bath. It had been…thrilling to see the way your eyes had been overtaken by the pleasure he pulled from you, the sounds you had made…Maker, it had been such a good moment and he wishes you felt that same comfortability around him again. He knows you must to an extent, because he doesn’t see you exchange words beyond pleasantries with anyone around the palace but him.

But even so, with your memory restored he was fully aware that you might not want to be with him in that way ever again. He would have you as you wanted him to, even if it was in no ways at all. His want for you to be comfortable, to be your own person far exceeding his own desires. He only wished you were to stay beside him, his protectiveness over you never waning and increasing as the days continued on, the same he was beginning to feel over the child. You were all three bonded.

And then the sudden appearance of your fiancé, the man who got to hold you and kiss you free of worries was there in the same room as you clad in nothing but a towel with your hair weighted down and damp. The touches he had seen up until that point had been nothing but fleeting, the touches he had witnessed next everything but, setting his blood to boil. The harsh way he had pressed himself to you, trailed his fingers over the sensitive skin between your legs he knew the feeling of all too well, the way he had been rough with you enough for you to cry out. It had been something he was unequipped to handle. His mind had gone blank as his vision hyper focused into stark lines and too bright colors as if he had activated a sensor for his helmet with the touch of button.

The quiet way you had followed him back to your room in a flowing robe with ad’ika cradled in your arms had been another thing he hadn’t been prepared for. The version of you he knew was strong, a fighter, not one to let such things slide. Serving well deserved justice to those who picked on you and those around you, on those who deserved it. The you in front of him now? She was scared, on edge, hesitant. And he didn’t like it at all.

“Mesh’la, you don’t have to heed his command.” He hears the way his voice is strong, but it isn’t for him.

No, all of his strength is for you. A flame he tries to keep healthy and bright even as the situation is something he’s quickly realizing may be far too deep for him to help you escape from.

“I do have to, he – he’s to be my husband, he has to be happy with me. My…my mother would do something if this was to all fall apart because of me.” His heart steels, you need him. You need him now more than you ever had, even back at that compound he happened across you in the largest stroke of luck and sheer circumstance he’s ever experienced.

You had unwittingly helped him, you and the child, to realize that while he devoted his life, mind, and body to the Creed and his way of life: he also needed something for himself. He had been…lonely, if he was completely honest with himself. Leading a life chasing after credits and determined to work any job, hunt any quarry, commit himself to more and more and more in order to achieve the goal of helping to perpetrate his kind long after the world had merely watched on as they were picked off one by one, scattered among the stars in a heartbreaking way.

You had helped him to realize that in order to do so, he needed a little bit of saving himself. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try to help and return the favor now that you needed it in more blatant ways than he ever did. He wanted to return the favor, he wanted you back in his arms, aboard his ship, laughing and sharing bits of food across a table that wasn’t a table. You had been blossoming into someone he felt intense emotion for, love for, someone he yearned to be back by his side and in his bed, whispered words of affirmation and the same love back to him beneath the sheets and in the darkness of his personal quarters. He missed you even with you standing a few feet away from him. Because the person standing before him certainly missed him, even if you didn’t realize it.

“Then leave.”

“Maker, I can’t do that. I don’t even know who I am.” The look you give him is so unlike any other he’s ever seen and it clatters inside his ribs, the urge to move forward and embrace you. But it would be a line crossed, to do so.

“But I do.” He decided to use his words instead, to try and hold you up.

“You what?”

“I know you. I know who you are.”

“From before?” The hope that curls around the simple question almost pulls the truth from him, he’s unsure why he falters in voicing it.

“From…from now. I know you, mesh’la, and you deserve better than this.”

“He’s…he’ll hunt me down. I know it, in my very bones I know it.” The words seem so matter-of-fact, as if you were aware of them subconsciously. The fear and life of solitude you had led because of the very notion of people being after you something your body remembered even if your mind could not. He recalls how isolated your home in the desert had been, how hard it had been to even find the humble building. How it must’ve been a mere shadow of the life you had lived up until that point, but one you had willingly created in order to avoid further conflict and loss.

But yet, here you were standing in front of him having lost everything that made you who you were.

“I’ll protect you.”

“Aliit, you have a child. You have a wife.” And there’s the anger he’s seen flare in you before, the will to not put up with things you didn’t agree with.

“I’ve told you, I do and I do not. She…she is much like you. In a situation she can’t control.”

“Then go save her.” You make it sound so simple, so easy a feat. If only you realized…but when you repeated the words with solid frustration he felt something brim over the top of his chest.

“I’m trying to!” He lets his own frustration get the better of him and he realizes his mistake when you cower. His own flames of anger and anxiety dousing yours to nothing but shadow and smoke.

“Apologies, I…shouldn’t speak so plainly with you. You are working, probably trying to earn credits to fix your situation. I apologize.” You won’t look at him, avoiding his eyes as he tries to catch them across the room. He’s messed up again, and now his punishment is delivering you to the door of the man who is about to do whatever he wants and you’re going to let him. To appease your mother, to fall in line with what you’ve been forced to believe are your duties.

“Mesh’la,” He steps close to you, now in the doorway to the large closet. His words trail off as you turn with a blank face so reminiscent of how you used to look at him. The robe is untied by your hands and falls to the ground. He averts his eyes, not wanting to impinge on your privacy even as you expose yourself to him.

“You heard him, he commanded you to dress me yourself should I not want to. Practically gave you permission to touch me, is that why you don’t want me to go. You want me all to yourself?” Digging into one of the elaborate boxes atop a shelf you throw whatever was inside it at him. It’s all lace and thin straps, a bright baby blue that looks like the shine of starlight on his armor when he polishes it in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. It makes him sick, stomach churning at the connection.

You’re breathing heavily, shoulders shaking and eyes tinging pink as he sees the tears you’re trying to fight off shine in the whites of your eyes as he dares to look up from the floor where the garment had fallen. “All men are the same, doing whatever they want. Taking whatever they want. At least this way I get something out of it, even if…even if it feels like it’s all wrong.”

Your words trail off, the power behind them waning as you refuse to break the connected gaze from him.

“It is wrong, he’s not…he’s doesn’t love you.”

“No one loves me.”

He freezes, taken aback by the conviction in your words even as you speak so quietly, your face still schooled into an expression of no emotion.

“No one’s come to my side after my accident. It’s as if…I had no life before it, no one who was by my side. It’s why, it’s why I’ve taken what my mother says as truth, there’s no evidence to suggest otherwise. Even if it does feel wrong.”

His chest aches, his heart crumbles and settled heavy in the pit of his stomach. He’s failing. He’s completely failing at his task of saving you. He’s making it worse, and he thinks again that maybe you’d be better off without him here mucking things up if you’ve accepted this as your life. You just said so yourself that it seems to be a good set up, better than anything you even remotely recall. But…it would be a betrayal to leave you in the hands of a woman who tormented and tortured you, manipulated you to her will alongside a man who was beginning to show his true colors.

He had. He had come to your side the second he had figured out where you were. But…but maybe it was too late. Your memories warped too much for him to bring them to the light. He thought…he thought he had seen glimpses of clarity in your eyes as he and Cara fight to keep you away from the mind flayer, from the doctor who was the reason for your lack of awareness.

“You have a wife.” You whisper, as if it was the one lie you were being fed that you didn’t want to accept.

“I do and I do not.” He repeats, unable to string together any other words as he sees the way you’re trembling. He’s about to throw the whole plan of slowly getting your memory and mind strong enough to tell you the truth, to blurt it all out in the hopes that it helps you to understand, but you’ve lost the spark of your old self as quickly as it had come to life and he’s missed his moment. Again.

“You have a wife and I…I cannot have you the way- you are not mine to want.” You seem to pull yourself from your inner musings, digging through another pretty package of ribbons and silk. The matching set is a soft pink and you pull on both pieces before bending to retrieve your robe. “Please escort me to Prince Cala’s room.”

The walk to the prince’s room had felt just as damning as the one he had taken to hand ad’ika over to the Imps.

Din begins to slip more Mand’oa into his conversations with you, hoping for recognition. Hoping to right his wrongs of that fateful night in which you had laid with another man. You didn’t talk of what happened, though he doubted he would be the first you would turn to should something of that caliber occur. He doesn’t ask, knowing that in the deepest part of who he was, he wouldn’t be able to handle the knowledge of your answer should you give him one.

He was being put on patrol of the grounds every morning, his night shift of watching over your hall given to others, never the same person. Probably due to Prince Cala’s command that no one is to get too close to you. But he traded with those who were given the post, giving away what little credits he had accumulated from being ‘employed’ by the palace and anything they voiced wishing they had. Cara making the trips into the city markets to retrieve whatever it was they wanted as she was shifted to duties to prepare for the wedding that loomed closer and closer.

The whole ordeal was reminiscent of his younger days, made it feel like he was back in training or just thereafter as he worked whatever and however many jobs he could get in order to prove for the covert. Though he was significantly older in years, the issue of not getting enough sleep only seemed to upset ad’ika. The child had become increasingly fussy, lashing out in the only ways he knew how and unfortunately one of those ways was slamming doors and throwing food.

The arrival of foreign people of all species to the city and to the palace in particular signal the days of your relative freedom coming to an end. Endless discussions of hushed plans are shared between him and Cara, as they realize they don’t have the currency of time on their side any longer. If there was one thing Din wanted to prevent, as if he truly had any control over things, was the binding of your person to another.

Two weeks, they had only two weeks and the days begin to fly by with no signs your memory returning.

Until he’s suddenly sat across from you one quiet night and you speak words of Mando’a back to him.

Ner kar’ta. Your voice sounds so sweet, so cherished in its damning innocence as you look to him with confusion in your glittering eyes.

Din’s moving from his seat beside you, kneeling before you in a way he never had with another. His hands holding yours and he revels in the warmth of them in his own. He carefully asks if you know what you just said, if you realize the enormity of what just happened, what had just fallen from your lips. He fills his heart swell when you say you think it means exactly what it does.

The words he’s only whispered to you once before as he lay bleeding and struggling to breathe, are repeated lowly. No longer a desperate plea for you to leave him behind, but an affirmation to bring you back to him.

He’s sure he’s far too focused, something he knows you don’t like, direct attention, deliberate attention.

But you’re looking back at him with the same sharpness in your eyes even as they remain partially shrouded, hope filling him and making his heart quicken as he searching for anything, for everything in them so close.

But then the door to your room, to the sanctuary you had both found is suddenly opening and the woman who had caused this entire ordeal is stepping over the threshold with a raised voice full of thinly veiled distrust and aggression born of fear.

Tension fills the room, your mother in the doorway while you and Aliit remain beside the small lounge set up of chairs, small sofa, and low table. The soft atmosphere between the two of you shattered as the woman barged into your room at far too late an hour. Making you wonder how often she had done so before your sleep had become hard to maintain. What was she doing checking on you under the cover of dark, midnight skies and twinkling stars? A pinch in the crook of your elbow, the column of your neck both flare to life and you worry for the things she could’ve done to you while asleep, before Aliit had taken over the post of night guard.

The rattling of fine porcelain trills, the cups of tea on small serving saucers Aliit had prepared in quiet seeming to irritate your mother as her eyes dart from the set up to the man behind you, to you. A glare marring her beautiful but aged features. Her skin pale unlike yours, though you were seeing underneath the mask you were realizing she always had carefully in place. Hiding and covering things she didn’t want others to see, didn’t want to reveal.

“Stop doing that!” She snaps, dominant hand pointing harshly at you and your body reacts far quicker than your mind. A hand of your own raising up and waving broadly, manipulating hers to lower to her side.

“Tell me.” You demand, patience gone and emotions focused. She sees something in you, at that moment, something that causes her to take a step back and it makes you feel powerful.

“You and the Prince were on holiday. Off on some crowded planet to enjoy in each other’s company as you shop and attend a gala in honor of the news of your engagement. Someone high up in the ranks of the New Republic happy of the coupling. Some startled you as they approached to congratulate you, always so jumpy, even as a young girl. You tripped over your dress, hit your head on the corner of a table.”

“Why don’t I have a mark from the fall?”

“What planet were we on before that allowed me to get the attention of Prince Cala?”

“We were home, darling. K’ath. He was interested in the armor we sell in the wharf.”

“You don’t let me make armor anymore.”

“No, Prince Cala wishes for you to learn other skills that are fitting for royalty of this planet.”

“I don’t mind that, but I wish to reclaim the one thing I can recall from before my accident.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I said no, San! I don’t know where this is all coming from, Maker you must be so confused. So out of it you’re manifesting things that simply aren’t true. This is your life, darling, this is it. What we had before…it was not what I wanted for you. But this – this is what you deserve. A nice place to spend your days with no stress, with no worries.”

“Leave.”

“Darling-“

“I wish to rest! Both of you leave, right this instant!” The rattling of the porcelain is loud, followed by a rather startling pop as the glass of one of the windows cracks.

“Remove your mask.”

Din keeps his eyes trained on hers, reading the woman with an intensity that only seems to fuel her distrust of him. He knows he hasn’t done the best at keeping his emotions in check while scouting out the palace and trying to remain close to you, he does. It was a task he hadn’t been prepared for in the slightest, something he realizes and feels shameful of. You needed him to be able to keep his head and to go about this mission as if it was any other, you needed him to be able to act as he always does: stealthily, calculated, levelheaded, deadly focused. But he wasn’t, his heart and emotions getting the better of him in a way that could be detrimental to your well-being, to your life, to his and to ad’ikas.

His pause, the twitch of his bare fingers upsets your mother further.

“There are people, someone in particular that may come after her.” She doesn’t budge, keeping her stance in front of the man back at his post outside your door. The moonlight filtering into the lantern light hallway barely enough to see the ire and suspicion in her expression. The slight resemblance to you unnerves him, the reality of this woman being tied to you by blood and fate too heavy a thought when you were so kind and good to him. “Remove your mask, Aliit.”

He doesn’t want to. He can’t. And certainly not for someone as ingenuine as your mother. But…for all the beskar he donned and had been able to share with you, for all the weapons he had in his cache to protect you, for all the skills he had developed over a lifetime, none of it had been able to prevent you from being taken away from him. His Creed had allowed for it to happen, even if it by way of inadvertency. So perhaps…perhaps the display of his face would be the one thing that had jumpstarted this entire situation would be able to salvage it. To give him the time and chance he needed in order to stay and work on allowing out to heal enough to know the truth.

Holding his breath, Din reaches up to unclasp the pin keeping the flowing piece over his cowl. It falls to the right side of his face as braces himself to lower the cowl with steady fingers, though his mind is anything but calm.

He never wanted to show his face, let alone to someone so unfounded in their own beliefs, if the woman had any. She wasn’t deserving, but you….he had been struggling with the desire to show you. But she was premature in her gloating victory, because she waves a hand at him just as he’s beginning to pull the fabric down. He stills, worried he’s been found out but that doesn’t seem to be the case as the woman’s stern face breaks.

“Oh, good. I was worried for a second.” She smirks, knowing she had won the heated exchange, the power of her command being heeded going to her head in the worst way. “No Mandalorian would be foolish enough to throw away their very Creed for someone like San. Maker, I love her. But she’s such a fool sometimes, a little misguided. No idea how she even caught the attention of the person who was supposed to bring her back to me. Must’ve used her body, since her head seems to be empty.”

Resisting the urge to snarl and show just how deep her words cut, Din just nods at her, bowing his head slightly before resetting his coverage over the cowl. An insult to him, he could internalize and ignore. But an insult to you was stirring his instincts to protect, to shield, to kill.

“What is the meaning of this? Sending my handmaidens away and ordering guards to follow me around from now on,” Prince Cala is sat on the edge of your bed, two guards on either side of the bed. It’s early, the sun barely cresting over the horizon and the sky shifting slowly from dark to light as it does so. Alit has to still be on the other side of the door where your mother had ordered him to remain for the rest of his shift, overriding the royal man’s direct orders.

“My dear San, I’ve sent your handmaidens to tend to things for the wedding. The ceremony will be in a week’s time.” He curls a hand around your wrist, bringing it up to kiss along your knuckles and down the inside of your arm. His lips are soft, but his touch feels wrong, it feels charged: changed. “You’re mine.”

He’s suddenly hovering over you, knees on either side of your waist and pinning you beneath the covers as he brings his face close to yours. His handsome features twisted into a smirk that made your insides lurch. His hands bring your own above your head, pressing them into the plush pillows and gripping far too tightly. Trying to squirm is useless as he lets all of his weight press into you, pushing the breath from your lungs and cutting off the shout you were about to make.

“That guard of yours is to be sent to patrol the city streets, he’s not to come near you again.” He repeats his possession of you, his lips beginning to trail hard kisses down your neck. His breath is hot and sticky against your skin and you try to close your eyes tights in an effort to make the moment go by quicker.

One of his hands trails down your body, boldly giving your chest a squeeze over the thin covers before it’s gone from you completely. But you don’t get to revel in the touch of him gone because there’s a metallic clink you hear the clicking of a syringe just moments before it’s plunged into your still trapped arm.

“No.” You can’t help the venom and distrust that seeps into your voice, the feeling of being trapped, of being herded consumes you and it’s ugly how it sticks uncomfortably to your insides. You had already partook in countless meals and cups of tea, strolls through the gardens and around the different buildings and halls of the palace. All in the name of entertainment for the guests you didn’t want to interact with. The feeling of being on display, of being paraded around annoying you beyond anything else had since you had woken up in that infirmary bed.

You didn’t like the attention, how direct it was. How people fawned over the tone of your skin in comparison to theirs, how they felt entitled to reach out and caress your skin or face when complimenting you or the dresses you wore.

Head pounding, you feel energy flow through you, something so foreign yet familiar. The same energy that had filled you back when you had confronted your mother a few nights ago. The very same that clattered porcelain and shattered glass though you hadn’t even been looking at either of those things, they were merely in the same expansive room as you. You had tried to focus, in the quiet solitary of that same room, your room, the only place you were truly left alone for only the hours of the night as Aliit dutifully looked over you from just inside the doorway.

His eyes watched you without giving you impression he was doing so with purpose as you tried and succeeded in harnessing it to move random objects around the room. It was…a powerful feeling to wield such a power.

It fills you now, as your mother turns to face you and you clench your fists at your sides to quiet the thought of using it against her. Something in your mind warning of you letting her know that you are conscious of it now, her reaction to seeing you unintentionally wield it telling you it was better kept a secret.

“Excuse me?” Your mother demands from where she has begun to lead you from within your quarters, she’s quick as she grabs at you, your hands twitching with the urge to push her away the second her fingers are curling around you.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” You flinch away from her, her touch far too tight around your wrists. It was as if you were shocked, your body recalling memories you couldn’t consciously do so and you feel the weight of metal heavy around your wrists in her hands around you, around your ankles and neck. Pulling you down, zapping you of any wherewithal for the body you inhabited. You close your eyes against the feeling, mind conjuring up the darkness of a room that feels far too familiar, that is filled faintly with the scent of salted air and willows native to your home world. “I wish to be alone in the week before I’m to be someone else’s.”

Breathing deep, the feeling of the air around you shifts to that of an arid land. Dry, bone-shattering heat suffocates you, your body too exhausted and dehydrated to even produce sweat. The cotton feel of your tongue thickens in your mouth as your head swims with the influence of narcotics and sedatives. The hush of a door opening blinds you even in your mind’s eye, a lone figure silhouetted in the front of the room you feel is so real around you.

A modulated voice speaks out, calling your given name and it startles you. The figure standing in front of you is swathed in shadows, making you believe it’s the one you had done your best to hide from until that very point. But the figure moves, revealing he’s not donning all black nor breathing with the assistance of a compressor.

He’s not the one who expertly wields a blade made of the same energy you feel coursing through you, red and blinding as it buzzes menacingly. The feeling of a handle is strong, the weight of it in your hands as the red spurs to life to form a weapon of your own. It diffuses to white and you feel a sense of calm, of kinship, of connection with the figure in front of you that you now know is armored in beskar.

Your eyes snap open and you seethe at the sight of your mother in front of you, of her still touching you, looming closer. She’s the reason for your feelings, every single one of them. The realization slams into you and it hurts. Your breath catches, lungs burning as you feel like no air is enough to breathe. You’re pulling away from her with more vigor, even as your mind swims at the lack of oxygen to function.

She’s the one who had first shackled you, keeping you under her control with the guise of hiding you away from those you had run home and away from. Their reach endless and their efforts never ceasing.

She was supposed to be a safe haven, someone you could return to after years of being separated. She was supposed to be someone who looked after you, protected you. But she had enslaved you instead, following in the footsteps of those you had run from though her power over you had been in the form of sedatives and metal so heavy it was debilitating. Not the same as the livelihood of someone you feel in your heart, someone who had since passed, someone who had given you a reason to live, taught you all he had to teach, cared for you with all the love he had to give. Donning the same metal you feel around your body, damning you where it had once saved you. The same metal you feel curling over your shoulders, a gift from someone truly good, who exuded care and honor. Someone who was associated with the one who had hunted then set you free.

Someone you could feel very close by. Accompanied by two others that called out to you in their familiarity as you stand in front of the woman who claims to be your mother even as she controls and tears you down to nothing more than errant thoughts she easily manipulates without a second thought.

“Darling, this is highly inappropriate.” You mother frowns, refusing to let you go, as if she knew the hold she had on you had crumbled away. “The medic should’ve…he should’ve fixed this.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me!” The commanding sound of your voice like a stranger’s in your own ears, someone who you don’t recognize. The windows of your room rattle, the tapestries float into the air, that power you feel deep in your very bones all around you, ready and willing to be harnessed.

“There is, San, you’re having delusions. The same thing happened to your father, that’s why I sent him away.” The woman insists, her knuckles whitening with the force she’s holding to you even as you step back, trying to get away from her. You raise your hands to push at her.

“That’s a kriffing lie!” You can’t help the burst of energy that flows from you, knocking you both to the ground. She’s yards away from you, her hands scrambling for something that had been flung from her pockets. A remote. Before you could even think of what it could be for, she’s pressing the button down in the center of it and your vision blacks out as something bright and burning flows through your veins.

Lethargic, your body is heavy as you leave the infirmary. Even as you move as silently as you can, mind humming with paranoia of being seen, of being tended to, of your mother. All you wanted right now was to see Aliit, to feel the calm only his presence seems to bring you. Especially as the wedding draws near the palace compound become crowded with guests invited by the king and queen, far too many of them displaying New Republic badges and pins. Something that was spiking adrenaline and worry in you for reasons you didn’t know. They had once been helpful, you thought, as the war raged on and landed on the shores of K’ath, their aid had helped to keep the economy afloat and food on the table.

But now, the mere mention and sight of their affiliation sent your instincts into a hum, the feeling of needing to run settling deep in every muscle of your body.  

The room you were in was small, but done up as a bedroom. Colorful tapestries and a four post bed complete with a headboard that had metal rings fastened at the top that unnerved you the longer you gazed up at them from where you lay against the pillows.

The guards are playing some sort of dice game, gathered at the end of the hall when you peek out of the door to the main part of the infirmary. A flash of lightning brightening the scene for you to see as clear as if it was the middle of the day, not well into the night at the only source of light was the lanterns fastened to the walls.

As you round the last corner to the hallway that held your bedroom, the safety of which you were seeking out, thunder rumbled outside. The storm was picking up, the rain falling down in sheets when you pass by a window. The wind shifts and the rain lashes against the windows in a manifestation of your heightening anxiety.

Just as you step into the hall, lightning strikes something far too close. The sharp crack of it hurting the very nerves of your body. The tall, wide shadow in the hall that turns to face you distorts from vague darkness to shiny metallic. The figure is swathed in beautiful armor for a the briefest of moments until the hallway is thrown back into darkness.

But it happens again as the lightning begins to stream down from the storm clouds as heavy as the rain.

The light of the lanterns bouncing off the polished surface of the glinting armor as the man begins to walk towards you. The dark visor across the sporadic flash of a helmet blends into the darkness, making it hard to gauge exactly who it is beneath. It’s overwhelming, the streaks of blinding light through the windows, an assault on your eyes and mind as you try to right yourself from where you must’ve leaned into the wall.

Thunder sounds and you realize you had tensed up, muscles protesting the steps you so desperately want to take, just a few yards to the door. To your room, to safety.

You feel a harsh current flow through your body again, sending you crashing to the floor as your words turn into a scream. Thunder drowning out the sound as it echoes in the hall, rain beating down against the windows. The figure now only a few feet away rushes to your side, catching you just before you could crumble completely. His arms are strong around you, cradling you as you thrash and convulse as more currents strike through your body, no longer a distant occurrence outside of the windows. Seemingly in time with the lightning lighting up the sky in blinding flashes.

But it’s not armor that you feel against your body, it’s the soft give of flesh beneath flowing fabric. Heart thudding at the realization, you realize that the armor hadn’t alarmed you, it had calmed you in its fleeting appearance. It had ben familiar, it had felt like…it had felt like something that had been missing from you the moment you had woken up in a bed and city you didn’t recognize. The presence of a shadowed figure you had tried to fill with the prince, only for it to not fit snuggly together like puzzle pieces. It felt so similar to how Aliit’s presence soothed you.

It must be him, you think as you feel yourself slump against the ground, the figure holding you lowering you both to the ground as the storm raged on. As you gazed up at him through bleary eyes, the silver armor glinted, the darkness of a visor glittered in the flashing light, and then it was clouded by the backs of your eyelids as you felt another current ravage your body. Behind them, you see the crisp image of the armored man standing atop a ramp leading to a ship, a small green figure in his arms as he turns to you and your heart jumps, the prickling of tears sharp as you realize what’s been missing all this time. What’s been hidden in plain sight beside you this whole time.

“San, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s-“ His voice is unmodulated, no vocoder distorting it. But it’s him and your heart swells.

“Din.” You breath out, eyes snapping open and finding his own. The man you loved was staring back at you, his helmet, his armor, all of it was gone to reveal a sliver of his face to you.

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[yoitsjay]

Confidential

Pairings: Hunter x fem jedi! Reader

Summary: after a successful but injury ridden mission in the outer rim, you set course for a medi center for your troopers. Only to get pulled out of hyperspace and shot down onto a familiar planet. Thank God The Bad Batch is there.

Warnings: bits of angst, lots of plot, made up clones and names, you get a cool lightsaber I have pictures, kissing, innuendos of more than kissing, hurt and comfort epilogue kinda.

Word count: 5,033

The last battle had many of your good soldiers dead. The separatists foothold in the outer rim was not something the council wanted, so they sent you to deal with certain planets. You had a 98.99 percent success rate with missions, and your clone troopers definitely made up most of that percentage.

You had a small battalion, maybe only a couple thousand instead of several. You got a few rookies now and again but most of them went to General Skywalker or General Kenobi. But regardless of who was sent to you, you cared for them like you did any other. You tried your best to learn everyone's names, and even learned Mando’a, courtesy of your medic and ARK Trooper Kasey.

You had just finished the battle on Alberon and left that battle with about a hundred dead, the majority injured including your commander. So you made it your personal mission to bring your injured troop to the medical center in the outer rim.

You knew it was risky, but what you didn’t expect was to be forced out of hyperspace because an explosion went off on one of your engines on the outside of the ship, and then attacked by separatists as soon as you exited hyperspace.

You had managed to fend them off, and the pilots did good with flying your smaller jedi cruiser, The Resplendent. But there was no doubt you were going to have to crash land.

“Pilots, can you maneuver The Resplendent to an empty pocket of land? avoid any cities, it stinks of separatist here.” You snarled, and your pilots nodded. “We got it General!”

You nodded, turning to the more technical clones in the bridge. “Can you tell me anything about where we are about to land? hostiles, terrain, temperatures?” You asked, gripping onto the back of their seats as the cruiser shook violently when hitting the atmosphere. “It's a crystal desert terrain, General. a major seppie city not far away. No hostiles so far, but I can't get much else. The planet’s name is Cryt” The Clone explained.

You nodded. “Buckle up boys! don't die on me now!” You shouted before running off the bridge and to the medical center. You managed to get inside and seal the doors just as the ship lurched forward, and was about to toss around the wounded soldiers, but you quickly raised your arms, and used it to keep the more wounded secured in their beds and up against the wall.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as you focused on keeping your soldiers safe, but as the cruiser lurched forward again you remembered that you didn’t buckle yourself to something, so that concentration was quickly broken as you flew forward into the farthest wall, a couple of injured clones landing beside you.

You groaned, looking up just as a broken piece of wall metal came flying towards you, again you acted quickly, extending your hand as you pushed the metal down and onto the ground so it wouldn’t hurt anyone.

You grabbed your clones, wrapping an arm around them as you brought them back to their cot’s. You then strapped them in, for their safety, and moved the cot’s all together to lessen any impact. You found something to hold onto, sensing that the ground was getting closer and closer…

And soon the cruiser hit the ground and it shook more violently than it had coming down, glass shattered and surgical instruments went flying, but you managed to deter them from hitting any of your boys.

Soon The Resplendent slid to a stop, and you sagged, giving yourself a few seconds before standing up to check on the men. The ones who were conscious all gave you a thumbs up, and the ones who weren’t you just quickly checked their pulses, looking over at your commander finally.

His helmet was off, which showed the interesting tattoo’s he had gotten done. The sides of his head were shaved with some patterns in the buzzed hair that connected to a tattoo on his face which he had told you were Jaig eyes, only bestowed upon warriors with high valor and honor. You had told him he deserved them so he went to get the tattoo much later.

He had some words in Aurebesh that went in a vertical line from his hairline and down to his jaw, closer to his ear on the left side of his face that said ‘Born to fight, Trained to win’ and you also thought that was pretty neat. He told you he had some tattoo’s elsewhere too, but again you didn’t mind the clones customizing themselves.

The top of his hair was slightly longer, still short but not buzzed or styled, so some loose pieces of hair fell on his forehead. He was asleep, which was good. You analyzed his splinted leg and arm, which looked to be healing well despite the rocky landing and the adrenaline that kept him walking despite your orders for him to lay down.

The medical droid had told you he had multiple fractures, but they would all be healed quickly with proper medical attention, but for now as long as he rested and didn’t move he would still heal fine.

You left the medical room, glancing around as non-injured clones filled the hallways, helping those who were injured because of the crash, or moving those who had died because of it. You sighed, placing your hands on your hips as you shook your head.

You then went to the nearest terminal, which was still working luckily, and you made an announcement.

“All non injured soldiers and personnel report to the bridge for further orders.”

Once the order was carried out, you made your way back to the Bridge, noticing a few more dead pilots and technicians, but most were alive, if not a little bruised. “Good job boys.” You sighed, standing in the center as your soldiers, and other personnel arrived at the bridge.

“General? what happened?” One of the clones asked, and when you turned around you realized it was your ARK trooper, Kasey. He had a slight gash in his head, but was holding some cloth to it. Your medic, Koba, was already assessing the damage of the bridge and the people in it.

You studied your troopers, most of their armor was painted orange and black, the orange matched your lightsaber, and to them it meant ambition, and fierce loyalty, which you loved. The black was just an accent color, but you had chosen to match them clothing wise.

A sigh fell from your lips and you spoke up, placing your hands on your hips. “We have landed on the separatist planet of Cryt. There’s a major city a few clicks west from where we landed, I'm going to go see if i can find any way to communicate with The Republic or the Jedi to send reinforcements and a new cruiser for pickup.” You explained, pausing for only a moment before you continued.

“I want you all to protect those in the medbay with your life. Keep a tight perimeter, and scrap any metal you can for some extra defense. Kasey and Koba are in charge while I'm gone. If Commander Pulse wakes up and tries to move, you tell him that my specific orders are for him to rest. And if I find out any of you let him walk around or give orders, you’re gonna get the grainy peas from the mess.” You growled, your men saluting automatically.

“But General- should you really go alone?” Kasey asked you, a worried look on his face. You sighed, shaking your head. “No, but I need my men here, safe and protecting their brothers. I can hide in plain sight, you can't.” You started moving your lightsaber so it was hiding on a clip you had on your lower back attached to your belt

Kasey sighed but nodded, and you left the bridge, heading to your quarters which were luckily still accessible. You changed into something a little less obvious, removing what little armor you did wear.

You changed out of your robes, and into a form fitting pair of tan jeans, as for your top you wore a sleeveless blue top, with a form fitting turtleneck collar. You placed on your bracers and hand armor overtop the fingerless elbow gloves you wore, and then came your leather boots which were a dark brown and went up slightly past your ankles.

A blaster was an unorthodox weapon for a jedi, but you had one just in case, and you clipped it to your thigh holster. The blaster also had a grapple attachment to it, which could help you scale the walls of the city to get inside.

Finally you pulled on a dark blue poncho, which hid your lightsaber successfully, and left it easy to grab just in case. You walked out of your room and said your goodbyes to your men before making your way into the desert where you pulled your hood up. “Wait General!” One of your men called, and you turned around, seeing a shiny pull up on an operational sand speeder. “Thought you could use this.” He grinned, getting off of the speeder.

You smiled and patted his shoulder. “Thank you…” You trailed off, hinting for him to give you his name. “O-oh! My name is Pincer.” He answered, nervous as he spoke. You smiled, getting onto the speeder as you nodded to him. “Thank you Pincer, now go join your brothers in the medical bay.” You ordered, watching as he nodded and ran back into the cruiser.

You pulled up your hood, using little clips you had in your pocket to keep it attached to your head so it wouldn’t fly off in the wind. You slid a pair of goggles you had in your room over your eyes, and you revved the engine before speeding off.

You knew Cryt, the lethal sands that could shred your skin, the cannibalistic vultures that circled overhead. It was your birth planet after all.

You sped through the crystalline desert, kicking up the sand which gave you a bit of cover as you reached the edges of the city. You scoped out the walls, searching for an access point. When you saw one, you sped closer before shooting your grapple upwards. You made sure nobody was looking before pulling yourself up, quickly scaling the wall until you pulled yourself up.

You avoided some patrolling droids, and found a staircase leading down. You took it, eventually finding yourself inside the city walls. You stuck to the shadows until you reached what looked to be a market area. The city felt familiar, but you had only been a baby when you were taken from here and raised in the Jedi Temple.

You visited a couple times before it got too dangerous when the separatists took over and the government became corrupt. It was a sad fact, but one you had accepted quickly.

You knew you had to get to a place where you could connect your com to a terminal and boost your signal in order to contact the jedi temple, and the only place you knew was the most popular and only bar in the city.

So you started making your way there, keeping yourself close to the shadows or the walls if possible… Until several loud explosions rang out through the center yard of the city. You heard screaming, and you looked up to see the droid facility being torn apart from the inside out. But that explosion had caused a chain reaction, and caused some construction towers to start falling.

You saw a group of kids running away, but the tower was getting closer and closer.

So you ran forward, extending your hand for just a brief moment as you suspended the tower, and grabbed the kids before moving out of the way, letting the tower fall down. “Are you okay?” You asked the young kids, who nodded to you in fascination. “Are you a-”

“Shh young ones, how about we keep that our little secret hm? i wont tell if you don’t” You whispered, offering the kids a warm smile and a couple credits from your belt as they nodded and ran off.

You sighed, standing and looking around before heading back to the sidelines. You might’ve just blown your cover, but for now you were in the clear.

Until you passed an alleyway, and hands reached from the shadows, one wrapping around your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and yanked you into the dark alley.

You grunted, immediately struggling against the figure. You elbowed him, wincing when you hit sturdy armor, however you elbowed him again, this time lower, which allowed you to make contact with an unarmored portion of that man. You did it a few more times before biting the man's hand.

“Ouch! fuck-” He cursed, but you weren’t done. You grabbed his wrist, and you twisted it, using your leverage as you swung him around, stepping behind him before kicking his knees, sending him to the ground.

You still had your grip on his arm, and had him pinned to the ground while twisting his arm, hearing him hiss.

“Okay okay! stop!” The man exclaimed, but you kept him under you. “I would let him go…” ANother voice hissed, and you saw a flash of a sniper scope above you. You then heard a pair of footsteps, heavy, behind you… and in front of you emerged another man, the shadows keeping him mostly obscured.

You stared down at the man below you, studying his armor… which was very clone like in the way it was designed. You then noticed the 99 printed on the man’s shoulder pauldron, and recounted the men surrounding you.

four.

99…

clone armor…

it clicked in your mind, and you released the man below you before standing up, glancing behind you as a large man stepped closer. You turned to the man you previously had pinned down, and he had just removed his helmet and stepped into the dim light of that alley.

He had a half skull tattoo, and a red bandana with a skull on it, keeping his longer hair out of his face. You narrowed your eyes for a moment before extending your hand, using the force to remove all their blasters, throwing them to the ground.

“Clone force 99, correct?” You asked, lowering the hood from your head, fixing your hair, moving the giggles to sit above your forehead. “You know us?” The man from behind you spoke up, slightly louder than he should have been.

“How could she not? she is clearly a Jedi.” The man behind the skull face spoke up, now beside the man with a datapad in his hands. “I am, but I'd like it if you shut up.” You growled, poking your head out of the alley for a moment before turning back to the man. “Were those explosions you?” You asked, and The man nodded.

“Yes, we were sent here to covertly destroy the droid factory so that the 212th could gain control of the city. it wasn’t ready yet, but then we saw a jedi cruiser falling from the sky.” The man explained, and he extended his hand to you. “I’m Sergeant Hunter, beside me is Tech, behind you is Wrecker, and above us is our sniper, Crosshair.” He introduced, and you nodded briefly.

“That’s great. I need to contact General kenobi. A lot of my men are injured. We were on our way from Alberon when an exterior explosion on our engines caused us to exit hyperspace, then we were attacked and had to crashland here. I need an emergency pickup.” You huffed, adjusting your poncho.

“Your explosion almost hurt a group of kids. I could have blown my cover and im sure pretty soon there will be droids fucking us in our asses if we don’t find somewhere to lay low.” You hissed, your language causing the sniper above you to snort. Hunter raised his eyebrow, but nodded. “Fine. We will follow you, and help you contact Kenobi.” Hunter stated, not sounding super thrilled but you didn’t care.

You lead the four enhanced clones through the alleyways until you reach the back entrance of what seemed to be an abandoned home. But you knew better. Last time you were here you were only a teenager. You remember begging your master to let you visit your family until he finally caved in and brought you.

This was your mother’s home.

You used the force to unlock the door, pushing it open with a grunt as you led them inside. It was dark, and dusty, but you brought them up to what seemed to be a living area. Everything was tossed or strewn aside like the place was searched. You frowned, but continued searching for something to boost the signal of your or Hunter’s com device.

Eventually you found a terminal, and you opened up the wiring panel. You took your commlink and you attached it to some wires before turning it on. While you worked on that, Hunter was trying to contact Kenobi as well, his brothers looking at you, before looking at Hunter and then back at you.

They were still very on edge around you, you may have been a jedi but they didn’t trust easily. Just then you got a com from Kasey, and you quickly answered it.

It was glitchy, but on the hologram you could see Kasey firing at something. “general! droid… ambush… backup!” Kasey exclaimed, his voice cutting in and out of the transmission. You growled, trying to patch the connection through. “Just hold on Kasey! don’t back down. Keep your vod safe!” You exclaimed, the transmission cutting before you could say anything else.

You groaned, clenching your hands into fists before taking a deep breath, Tech then walked over to you, kneeling down beside you, wordlessly helping you rewire the terminal, and soon You and Tech successfully boosted the signal, hooking up their comms to contact General Kenobi. Hunter spoke up first, explaining that some complications arose before you stepped forward.

“General L/n? what are you doing on Cryt?” He asked, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Not such a funny story, Master Kenobi. Myself and my battalion were on our way to the outer rim medical center after the battle of Alberon when one of our engines detonated and we were pulled out of hyperspace. We were attacked, and had to crash land here. I came to the city to find a way to contact the Jedi temple when I ran into Clone Force 99. and now we’re here.” You explained, trying to keep the explanation brief.

“If you can, can you request additional backup? droid’s are attacking my men and I need to get back to them before they get killed. My cruiser is inoperable.” You explained, seeing Kenobi talking with someone else for a moment before he nodded to you. “We will be arriving shortly with a fleet. We will send some gunships down to collect you and your men. Perhaps you could aid us in taking back your home>” Kenobi asked, and you nodded.

“I'll do whatever you command, General, just help my vod- my men.” You quickly corrected yourself. Kenobi nodded and the transmission ended. You sighed, rubbing your face before turning to look at Hunter.

“Thank you.” You muttered, Hunter nodded and walked away, talking with his brothers as you gathered yourself, ready to leave before you felt a hand wrap around yours. “We did our part for Kenobi, we’ll go back with you to help your men.” Hunter stated.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head in disbelief. “Why would you do that?” You asked, hearing the man chuckle. “Because you are the only general I've heard of that has willingly learned our language, and then called your men your brothers. So we will help you. even if they are regs.” Hunter explained.

You stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. “Prepare for one hell of a fight.” You muttered, running out of your childhood home and out to the streets where droids were already patrolling.

You grabbed your lightsaber from your back and ignited it. The blade glowed orange which surprised The Bad Batch. They had never seen an orange lightsaber before. But what was unique about your saber, was that it had a crossguard, with smaller lazers escaping from the sides.

Your muscles flexed as you swung your blade forward, slicing through a patrolling vulture droid. You jumped from his leg, spinning as you cleaved a rolling droideka in two pieces, before blocking several blaster shots that came at you. But then you unlinked something on your holster, and a smaller saber disconnected from the crossguard saber which was still ignited.

You ignited a small orange lightsaber in your left hand, and started dual wielding, slicing through droids. “She’s a force to be reckoned with.” Crosshair muttered to Hunter, shooting a couple of droids that you had left behind. “I like her!” Wrecker exclaimed, rushing to help you as you both smashed through some droids, paving your way to the exit. Hunter, Tech and Crosshair followed close behind, shooting or knifing down any droids that your lightsaber’s didn’t cut through.

Hunter watched you, watched the sweat dripping from your brow as you skillfully swung your blades before attaching them together again, however this time, instead of just a single blade you had switched your stance to a dual blade. Now that was unique.

You were strong, that was clear. Unlike most of the jedi he had seen, you actually had muscle on your arms. You were heavy in your swings too but you left no room open for weakness. You used your body mass to your advantage to flip and swing over droids.

And soon you and the batch were on speeders, and heading towards your crashed ship which was already under heavy fire. But just as you arrived, so did the republic gunships and fighters. You commed Kasey, who picked up after a few buzzes. “Lieutenant just hold on! we’re almost there and reinforcements have arrived!” You exclaimed, igniting your lightsaber whilst on the speeder as you wiped out several droids in one pass. You then jumped off the speeder, force jumping again while mid air as you landed on a vulture droid.

You plunged your blade into its head, jumping off and landing back onto the ground. The Bad Batch managed to keep up with your speed, following you inside the crashed vessel, cutting through droids until you reached the med hanger. “Kasey!” You called out, the blades of your saber shutting off as you clipped it back to your belt, inhaling with relief when Kasey’s head poke out from behind a barricade, Kobo right behind him.

“Hey General! right on time for the fun.” Kasey beamed, and you chuckled as he turned to look at Hunter and his brothers. “Who are they?” Kasey asked, and you grinned. “This is the elite Clone Force 99. They’re helping take back Cryt.” You explained, hopping over the barricades. “Is Pulse okay?” You asked, looking around the med bay but not seeing him.

“Feeling good as ever, General.” His voice carried out, and Hunter saw your face brighten up significantly… he almost felt… jealous… But he couldn’t think like that, he barely knew you!

But regardless he watched as you embraced your commander in a hug for a few moments before pulling away, smacking him on the back of his head. “You di’kut! you’re supposed to be resting your leg!” You exclaimed, the men around you laughing at your exchange.

Eventually you turned back to Hunter, nodding. “I'll be sending my men up with the gunships once they land, But i’ll stick with you if that's okay.” You started, walking over to him. “Of course it's okay- i mean yea- its uh- its fine.” He cleared his throat, looking away from you.

Wrecker gasped. “Hunter’s got a crush~” He sang, and your face lit up, almost the color of your lightsaber. “Shut it Wrecker!” Hunter exclaimed, glancing back at you. You offered him a light smile, and he started blushing in return.

damnit.

He kind of zoned out after that, you were so close and he could smell your natural perfume, which smelled of smokey vanilla and baking smells, along with the smell of your sweat… It's only been two or so hours since he met you and already he felt like a horny cadet all over again after seeing some pretty Jedi for the first time.

But he noticed the way your eyes brightened every time you spoke to your men, especially your commander and lieutenant, he saw the way your lips curled up slightly before you laughed or smiled wider. He admired the way you moved, you were walking with purpose, but at the same time you were so graceful.

Wrecker was right.

fuck.

But he couldn’t stop looking at you, even in the midst of battle when you were on the frontlines with them, fighting separatists to free the people of your home world, he studied you, seeing you laugh, or grunt at every droid you slaughtered.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Even if you were covered in oil and dirt, and your hair was sticking to your face because of the sweat that dripped down your skin, you were still gorgeous.

At the end of battle, he noticed your afterglow, the way you smiled while talking with Kenobi, securing the peace of your planet.

Hunter's lips parted when you turned to look at him, he didn’t even realize you had walked up to him and started talking until Crosshair elbowed him in the ribs.

He snapped back to the present, trying to compose himself as you stared. “what? sorry-” He choked out, and hearing you laugh nearly made his knees give out.

“I said, while my men are healing, and are given a much needed break, I will be working alongside your squad, as long as it’s okay with you, sergeant.” You explained again, holding your hands behind your back as you stared right into his eyes.

he gulped.

he was in for it now.

-

You were on one of the Jedi cruisers now, having just showered and dressed into your under robes when you had bumped into Hunter in the hall. One minute you were talking, laughing… Then the next you were in your temporary quarters, and Hunter was kissing you, his hands sliding up your robes to lay flat against your warm skin.

Tongues and teeth clashed together, but you didn’t care, you didn’t want that moment to ever end.

And you fought beside Hunter for months after that, but you had a routine. After every mission you’d release all that passion with each other. And even when you went back to Coruscant, and was placed back with your squad, you found yourself partnering with The Bad Batch a lot more, and even when you couldn’t you’d find him on Coruscant.

So much passion, and love… And you shared it with him. Every piece of your heart you shared with him, just as he did with his own.

Nobody but your closest knew, and of course Hunter’s brothers knew. But your relationship was extremely confidential. Pulse understood, as did Koba and Kasey. They wouldn’t tell a soul.

And you were so grateful.

★Epilogue★

Order 66 killed so many, ruined so many lives. And had almost got you if you weren't able to remove the chips of your three most Loyal. You were able to hide with them, and escape from the growing Empire. Pulse, Koda and Kasey had felt so guilty, knowing the people you were raised with were probably slaughtered, and your battalion, you couldn’t save them all and it wore down heavily.

You hadn’t had any contact from Hunter, and you were scared to even reach out. Instead you reached out to an old Jedi contact, Cid, and you made your way to Ord Mantell with your remaining men. You had acquired (stolen) a ship from some pirates to actually get you there. But as soon as you stepped into Cid’s parlor, you sensed a familiar presence.

Your eyes searched the parlor, until you landed on a slightly hidden group in one of the back booths. You narrowed your eyes, and turned to your men who were looking at you curiously. “Guard the door.” You muttered, and started walking over to the booth…

You nearly choked, eyes widening as you saw none other than Hunter, and his brothers Tech and Wrecker and… another, one you didn’t recognize. But no Crosshair… and there was a girl, blonde with brown eyes.

When Hunter turned to look at you, he almost had the same reaction you did. You were both frozen as you looked at each other, But as quickly as it happened it was over, and not only was Hunter embracing you, so was Wrecker and even Tech.

You held them all tightly, tears beginning to fall from your cheeks, allowing Tech and Wrecker to pull away as you just focused on Hunter now, pressing your lips to his in a passionate, relieving kiss.

You pulled away again, sliding your fingers through his hair. “I thought-” he choked out, and you nodded. “I’m not, and you aren't either.” You whispered, kissing his cheek and then his lips again for a moment before pulling away when you heard the clone you didn’t know clear his throat. “Oh yes- hi.” You greeted the stranger, introducing yourself as you waved your men over.

It was a huge reunion, and that night you and Hunter shared a bed on your ship while his brothers and your men shared drinks and stories at Cid’s bar. But Hunter just held you as you cried. He was crying too, but more in relief that you were alive, and his arms.

he wouldn’t let you go again, and you wouldn’t either.

➺

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