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multi-fan-dom-madness · 1 year ago

Note

the way i need enemies to lovers smut with cal where reader is a sith lord and gets hurt but cal being the good man that he is, takes her back to his place and things happen yk 😰

i love this so much and I hope it's alright that I changed the prompt a teensy bit. instead of being sith, reader is just a darkside-user more generally. also gender neutral. thank you so much for the request!

Balance (Cal Kestis x reader)

Summary: You encounter Cal Kestis a few too many times, and you can't explain the way that the Force seems to be conspiring to put you two together in a room.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors DNI; gn!reader; inappropriate use of the Force; reader is a darkside user and honestly doesn't know how fucked they are; semi-graphic injuries; porn with plot; toxic relationship lowkey; blowjob; mutual masturbation (sort of); penetrative sex; unprotected sex (pls be safe irl y'all); if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 12,765 my hand slipped

The first time you encounter Cal Kestis, you nearly kill him.

You’d heard the rumors, of course, whispered with bright eyes and furtive expressions in shithole Outer Rim cantinas of a flame-headed being cutting down Inquisitors and Imperials. When you first overheard a snippet of the tall tale, you’d nearly choked on your cheap spotchka. Right, you remember thinking, a fiery figure opposing the Empire. Did they run out of good gossip today?

Most rumors have at least a kernel of truth at their centers, and you figured it was the same with this one. And besides, you are indifferent to the Empire, at best; you’ve been avoiding their attention as much as you can, but you suspect that the thick cloak of the darkside you wear like a mantle has kept most of the Inquisitorius oblivious. They’re looking for Jedi, who cannot resist continuing to do good in a galaxy rotted to its core, and you stopped being a Jedi long before the Empire rose to power. They probably pay no mind to one lone figure who straddles the line of light and dark, temptation and virtue.

But that doesn’t mean Jedi pay no mind to you. Most of them, you can avoid; you fight when necessary. Currently, you’re thinking a fight might just be necessary. You’re on some planet you’ve already forgotten the name of, densely populated and urban. You stand with one foot propped on the edge of a rooftop, neon lights glimmering on wet permacrete. Rain drizzles in a fine mist. You gaze placidly across the gap to the next building—to the flame-headed being. Without even needing to try, you feel his Force signature: he burns in the Force, even as he tries to hide it. His coppery hair ruffles in the slight breeze, stubble darkening his face.

With a steadying breath, you tilt your head to one side. “Got a name, friend?”

“Not one you need to know,” he calls back. His posture is loose, casual, but you sense the whipcord tension in his Force aura; he’s on the alert.

As he probably should be.

“If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?” You offer him a disarming smile. “Seems only fair, right? Equitable partnership.”

He snorts. “There’s no partnership.”

“Fine,” you huff. You tell him your name anyways, and he mouths it silently, but none of that tension dissipates. You take the moment to appraise him a little more closely: lean body, self-assured slant of his shoulders, faded burn scar cut across his face. Heat licks up your spine.

“Cal,” he eventually says. “Cal Kestis.”

You smile wide at his honeyed voice. “Nice to meet you, Cal Kestis. Mind moving out of the way so I can continue on my merry way?”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s no trace of regret in that gorgeous voice, only immense exhaustion.

Your saber hilt twitches against your back as your hand flexes nearly out of habit. Taking another deep, cleansing breath, you shrug as if his answer means nothing. The dark tide of the Force surges through your body, tingling in your fingertips, sharpening the smoggy night air into fine detail. “Well, can’t say I didn’t ask nicely.”

And then you leap, going from a dead standstill to a flurry of action in the space of a heartbeat. As your unstable crimson blade screeches to life, bathing the rooftops in flickering light, an answering snap-hiss echoes around you. Blue beam clashes with red, showering sparks over both of you.

Oh, he’s strong, and for some reason that makes your skin flush. You bare your teeth in a mockery of a smile and shove. He staggers back, feet slipping for a moment in the gravel surface of the rooftop, before he recovers.

“I’ll give you this one chance to stand down,” he says, voice thick and low and oh how it makes you shiver. His eyes glint in the blue light of his saber.

“Funny,” you snap, ��I was just going to say the same to you.”

A frown tugs at his mouth. Lowering into a defensive stance, his eyes never leave yours as you languidly swing your saber in a half circle around you, content to draw this out. You’ve killed your number of Jedi in the name of self-preservation—necessary sacrifices to ensure the continued balance of Light and Dark—but there’s something about the way his green eyes harden into sharp gems the longer you twirl your blade, the casual power in his veined forearms, the absolutely pure gold energy he radiates in the Force.

With an aggravated shake of your head, you press the attack. Overhead, backhand, thrust, thrust, parry—you and Cal settle into a dangerous dance. Bright light bursts where your sabers connect, sparks skittering across the gravel. For anyone watching nearby, the pair of you probably look like blurs of red and blue light—another light fixture among this technicolor urban landscape.

But for anyone skilled in the Force, the radiance of your sabers dims in comparison to the pillars of energy you both become. One golden and bright as a thousand suns, shot through with faint tendrils of inky blackness; one glowing in shadow, a black hole ringed by its event horizon, smears of golden light.

Both the light and the dark are present in this fight, and you smile grimly. In all things, balance, as your master used to say.

The memory is a distraction, and Cal manages to break through your guard and punch your nose. Searing pressure spikes through your head, warmth dribbling down your face.

You merely grin at him with blood-covered lips. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kestis.”

And again the two of you become a flurry of attacks, parries, counterattacks, feints. In the distance, the low drone of a police siren reverberates off the tall glass buildings of the downtown area. You’ve been spotted. Time to end this now.

You make a show of appearing to be tiring, breathing coming in heavy gasps, your saber still meeting Cal’s in time to stop him from separating your limbs from your body, but just a fraction slower than what you’d begun with. And you give ground. Just a half step at first, and then several steps. Cal seizes the opportunity to push you back, force you into submission, gain the upperhand—

Not knowing he’d lost this fight the moment he’d placed himself in your path.

The Force is with you. In the Force, your arms seem to glow with terrible, purple-black ultraviolet power as you surrender yourself to its currents. There is no longer you and your saber; your saber is you. There is no longer you and Cal Kestis; there is you and the last piece of yourself that you’re willing to atrophy. Veins of golden Light criss-cross under your darkly shining skin—and as you stand firm once again with your back to the low roof edge, you will those golden veins to flush, to swell. You’re going to triumph here, and it’ll be with the approval of the full Force.

Cal’s face gleams with sweat, his brow furrowed, delicious mouth curved down in a frown. You lick your lips.

“Yield, Kestis,” you say. One last chance.

He just grunts, and in a blur of motion, separates the hilt of his saber. Another beam of blue snaps to life. Fear flares in you for a moment—but the Force remains with you, and you let the emotion siphon into your cracked, bleeding kyber. Plasma spits off the sides of your blade as you block attack after attack after attack; you’re an infinite well of patience—but that siren is getting closer, and you know that time, unlike your patience, is of the essence.

In a flash of inspiration, you reverse your grip on your hilt mid-parry, then swipe the angry blade out and up. A cry of pain, and one of the blue sabers retracts as the hilt clatters to the gravel. Cal stumbles back, cradling his left arm to his chest, his remaining saber held in front of him.

You can’t help the surge of pleasure at besting your opponent, even temporarily. As you twirl your saber again, a spotlight suddenly beams down on the two of you. With a grimace, you swing the saber down towards the soft juncture of Cal’s neck where it meets his shoulder—

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of the calm, resigned look in his eyes. Your blade hovers mere centimeters off his skin.

Amid the roar of hovercraft, the police siren, and the rushing of blood in your ears, he murmurs your name.

“Kark it all,” you spit. Gathering the Force within you, you shove him back. A shout of surprise, a flash of blue, and then he’s tumbling over the edge of the building. You retract your blade and dash in the opposite direction without a second thought.

Your master had always been honest with you about how little he, or anyone, truly knew about the mysteries of the Force. During your years as a padawan, you spent countless hours in meditation chambers deep below the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, feeling the constant ebb and flow of the Force around you. The first time he brought you there, your master explained in hushed tones how the temple had been built millennia ago over an old Sith temple. The Force resided in a nexus point there; streams of energy flowed from all over the galaxy and converged—and then diverged—from the temple.

Sitting in meditation now, you breathe deeply and steadily as the memory crests over you.

“But, Master,” you asked, “if the temple used to be a Sith stronghold, doesn’t that mean the dark side of the Force is strong here, too?”

His kind, patient eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That is right, my Padawan. In all things, there must be balance. Light and dark only exist because of each other.”

A frown tugged at your lips at that, and you cocked your head to the side. “But aren’t we supposed to resist the darkness?”

“Yes,” he said. “The darkness is an overbalance—an overabundance—of emotions, passions, fears. The Sith, and all who use the dark side, manipulate the Force to their will, instead of letting their emotions, like the Force, flow through them.”

Something about that didn’t feel right. “But—”

Your master held up one hand, forestalling the line of questioning you were about to launch into. He stepped through a large, arched doorway into a dim, echoing room. “Come, Padawan. Perhaps meditating will provide the answers you seek.”

You inhale slowly and open your eyes, squinting against the bright blue glare of the hyperspace lane. No matter how long or how hard you meditated under the temple, you grew no closer to an answer than by asking your master. Despite your frustration, you kept returning to the chambers below the Great Hall. The Force there was...comforting. Balanced. And yet, so infuriating in its mystery. You could feel both the light and the dark, and neither were good or bad. The Force just...was. Perhaps it was the long hours you spent in the tunnels and vast echoic chambers there that you developed your keen sense for the composition of the Force.

Standing, you groan softly at the ache in your knees. As you settle back into the thinly padded pilot’s seat, you massage at the joints, wondering just when you’d gotten old.

Probably when that droid shot through your master’s heart on Geonosis, and you’d physically felt the Force tip off-balance half a galaxy away, deep in meditation on Coruscant. The memory is painful, and digs its festering claws into your heart yet again.

The Council hadn’t even needed to tell you your master had perished in the opening salvo of the Clone Wars. The morning after his funeral, with both his and your sabers in your pack, you’d fled the temple.

The old fool, you think, slashing the memory of him from your awareness.

By now, you’re used to the pit of emotions yawning in your very essence. You hold onto your fears, your angers, your anxieties—but also your loves, your passions, your desires. Without even really thinking about it, you reach for the loose compartment that holds your master’s saber. Its duranium-plated hilt is slowly corroding, matching the slow degradation of yourself. The blade jumps to life with a snap-hiss. The green glow it casts is almost sickly, the blade bright, but thin and tremulous. It’s been weak since he died.

As you stare, eyes burning, into the flickering core of your master’s blade, you reach into the Force for the kyber at its heart. No matter how many times you brush against the crystal with your mind, you’re never prepared. A screech, unending and agonized and fearful, rends through your consciousness. For a moment, the green sputters, crimson taking its place.

You drop the saber, gasping. The hilt clatters to the floor and blade retracts, and you’re left again in the pressing silence of hyperspace.

In all things, balance, drift the words through you once again. Green against crimson. Crimson for blue. You think about Cal Kestis, his blinding presence; you think of your vacuous silhouette; and you take all the rage you can muster and twist it into your own heart like a dagger. The joists of your ship groan in response.

The second time you meet Cal Kestis, you almost wish you’d killed him all those years ago.

Just a few months after that first encounter on rain-slicked rooftops, you caught wind of a rumor that the flame-headed being attacked the Fortress Inquisitorius itself. This time, you didn’t discount the story, having witnessed first hand—for however short a time—the Force-empowered determination of that single human being. None of the rumors about Cal Kestis surprise you anymore.

But you routinely have to curse his name as the Inquisitors have now turned their attention beyond just Jedi. The cloak of the darkness is no longer enough on its own to hide you from the long gaze of the Empire. You’ve taken to hiding out on barely populated Outer Rim worlds, hanging around long enough to establish some kind of routine, before the gentle ripples of the Force lapping against your subconscious grow into towering, dangerous waves. And then you hop back in your ship, barely more than scrap welded to a hyperdrive, and scuttle off to the next system.

Which is where you find yourself now. Koboh could be promising. As you crouch at the edge of an exposed cliff, you study the cosmic anomaly that orbits the planet. The Abyss. You’re not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it creates a strong enough disturbance in the Force that you’re hopeful it will mask your own signature. And, you admit to yourself as your gaze lowers to the breathtaking landscape spread out below you, you’ve hidden in worse places the last few years. Koboh seems promising, indeed.

You spend a few days studying the locals, trying to get a feel for how life works here. For the most part, everyone here seems like they’re from off-world—which is good, because it means you won’t stand out for very long as a newcomer. Everyone here is a newcomer. And everyone here is more concerned, it seems, with the things that lie in the dirt than in the world aboveground. All the better for you.

Concealing your saber hilt against your back like always, you make sure your ship, bucket of bolts that it is, is well-hidden enough to dissuade any potential scrappers. Tucked high on an outcropping, you hope most folks won’t care too much to check out the shiny metal bits not covered by plant matter. Not when it’s several dozen feet above solid ground.

And you make sure you look as uninteresting as possible. With your saber out of view, you could pass for a refugee without issue. Force knows you’ve been weeks without a proper shower; you can feel the dirt and grime on every inch of your skin. Your clothing, usually neat and tucked in, is dusty, torn, and stained with dried blood.

Yes, you’ll fit in nicely here.

As you pass beneath a metallic archway decorated with a massive horned skull, you reach out in the Force, making sure that none of the town’s inhabitants can get the drop on you. You bypass squat, square buildings that are probably homes of some of the folks here. None seem of interest. Instead, your gaze is trained on the larger, multi-story building near the center of town. As you draw nearer, you realize the sign above the door reads, “Saloon.” Perfect.

The door opens to admit you into a hallway; at the end, you wait in front of another door for a moment while a mechanical eye studies you. Chattering in a deep, unintelligible voice, the eye withdraws, and the second door whooshes open to reveal the barroom.

No one turns as you descend the few steps to the floor. Crates and clutter stock most of the booths along the side wall, a few folks talking quietly at smaller tables or sitting alone and nursing a drink. Quiet, staticky radio music plays over the speakers.

Behind the bar is a tall, four-armed droid who skids to a halt where you lean against the counter.

“You’re a new face,” the droid says. “Name’s Monk. What can I get you?”

You quirk an eyebrow and give the droid, Monk, an alias, your sixth one in as many months. Then you say, “Got any spotchka?”

“Indeed I do,” Monk says. “Shall I start a tab?”

“I’ll pay up front,” you say with a shake of your head.

Monk gives you the cost as he pours the glowing blue liquid into a clean glass, and you slide the credits across the counter. The alcohol’s familiar burn slides down your throat as you lean your back against the bar. Over the rim of your glass, you study the other patrons here at the saloon. Dusty, tired figures, the lot of them. In the Force, they are marginal, giving off only nominal signatures, no different than most other living beings. Most of them aren’t important enough to even warrant a clear affiliation with light or dark; they just are. Your upper lip quirks in a grimace.

Extending your awareness out farther, you’re not sure what you’re searching for, but you suppose you’ll know it when you find it. The hilt of your saber digs uncomfortably into your skin, but you ignore it, using the pain to sharpen your focus. You sense more townsfolk going to and fro outside the saloon, but none of them of any more note than those inside.

Something in you itches. Frowning, you lower the glass of spotchka and try to focus in on that feeling. It’s under your skin, out of reach, just behind your spine, but if you just push a little farther—

You gasp, cringing away from the sudden supernova that blinds your awareness in the Force. Cal Kestis. It has to be Cal. No one else burns quite like him.

You yank your Force signature back into your body, hoping he didn’t feel you like you felt him. Figuring you only have moments to get out, you make a split-second decision between the several other doors leading away from this main room. Spotchka glass still in hand, you dart for the nearest door, and it slides open to reveal a staircase that winds upward. You take the steps two at a time. At the landing, you hiss at the sight of a second-floor loft. Stairs seem to continue along the other side, continuing to wind upward, but before you can run for them, a familiar voice drifts up from below.

“Hey, Monk, good to see you,” says Cal Kestis.

Your body flushes with warmth. Kriff.

Monk says something you can’t quite make out.

“Another newcomer?” Cal says. “I’ll make sure to say hi when I see them.”

Grimacing, you creep across the floor toward the second staircase. Your foot just touches the bottom step when a voice behind you calls your name—your real name, not the alias you gave the droid.

You sigh, chin falling toward your chest. “Cal Kestis.”

“How did you find me?”

His green gaze burns into you almost as hot as his Force signature. You roll your eyes; typical Jedi, thinking the world revolves around him.

“I didn’t know you were here,” you say. “I’m...laying low.”

He crosses his arms across his chest, and you’re distracted for a moment by the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “I’m supposed to believe that.”

“Believe whatever you want to, Jedi,” you bite out. “I’ll go find my own desolate planet.”

“Can’t let you do that,” he says, following behind you as you climb the stairs.

“I’d love to see you stop me.”

You feel the disturbance in the Force and brace for it. His attempt to yank you back down the stairs fails as you push against it—but you can’t push past it. Equally matched. Balanced.

With a growl, you spin on your heel and point an accusing finger at Cal. “Are you really sure you want to do this right now?”

His eyes narrow at you as you stand there, chest heaving with emotion, both of you crackling with energy in the Force. You down the rest of your spotchka and shatter the glass on the ground. Cal doesn’t flinch. The longer you stand there, the hotter your face flushes. Ignoring the impulse to shudder, you don’t miss the way his green eyes study your face, your posture, your signature.

“I know you,” he finally says. “From the temple.”

You snort in derision. “Good for you, kid.”

“I was still a youngling when the Clone Wars started,” he says. “I...understand what it’s like to lose your master.”

Your vision pulses black for a moment, and on instinct you reach out with a clawed hand. Cal’s eyes widen in fear as his hands fly to his throat, grabbing at the invisible hand you squeeze there.

“Don’t. Ever. Presume to know anything about me,” you hiss. “You know nothing, Cal Kestis.”

“You’re—right—” he chokes out. “I’m—sorry—”

You shove, the Force exploding through your palm as he slams into the opposite wall. Sputtering, he coughs, rubbing at his throat.

“I don’t need your pity, Jedi.” You spit the title like a curse—like the curse that it is—and turn to take the staircase up and out. The door at the top admits you to the open-air roof, the cosmic explosion of the Abyss looming overhead.

You step over the edge of the roof, calling on the Force to cushion your descent. At the bottom, you ignore the flabbergasted expressions on a few of the locals as you stalk off. Past the saloon, past the stables, through the shallow river—you’re not sure how far you walk, but it’s dark by the time that you realize you’re lost.

“Kriff,” you sigh.

Thankfully, whether by luck or by the sheer force of presence of your Force signature, you’ve not been bothered by any of the (frankly terrifying) wildlife on this planet. Tentatively, you reach out, but you find nothing but a few docile Nekkos and, farther off, a dozing bilemaw.

In the dim light provided by the Abyss and the Shattered Moon hanging heavy in the sky, you determine that a shallow cliff alcove nearby will be as good a place as any to rest until morning. Settling under the rocky overhang, you exhale a shaky breath.

It’s been a long time since you let your emotions take control like that. You allow yourself to feel them, even to use them to your advantage—but you rarely lose control. Not recently, anyways.

You bare your teeth at the thought of Cal Kestis. He’s by far only the latest in a string of former Jedi you’ve encountered, but none of them, even the ones who you remember from your years as a padawan, created this amount of turmoil in you. So why him?

Should probably just ask him myself, huh, you muse, hearing a twig snap nearby. You don’t need to look into the Force to know who it is.

“Who’s following who now?” you call.

With a familiar hum, a blue blade sings as it springs to life, illuminating the alcove you’re hunkered in, as well as Cal’s lean figure. You’re too exhausted to be angry at this point, but a different kind of heat licks up your spine as you push up onto your feet. The warmth settles between your thighs, throbbing uncomfortably as he raises the saber overhead, his arm muscles flexing.

“Had to make sure you didn’t hurt anyone,” he says, halting just a few feet away.

“No one out here to hurt,” you say. “What are you really doing here, Kestis?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight between his feet, eyes not meeting yours. Squinting, you extend a tendril of awareness toward him—past the burnished gold aura, past the shell of Jedi honor he projects like a shield, until you brush against one of those tiny black cracks in his signature. He stiffens, shifts his stance into a defensive half-crouch. There is darkness in him.

And there is lightness in you, sighs a voice that sounds very much like your master’s.

You ignore it.

“Well?” you prompt.

“I- I don’t know,” he says.

You snort. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know.” Sinking back into a meditative pose, you let your eyes slide shut and effectively shut out all things Cal Kestis.

At least, that’s what you try to do. The karking idiot seems to have decided that you’re not a threat—a poor miscalculation on his part—as his saber retracts and you hear the sounds of someone settling into a meditative trance next to you. Peeking one eye open, you glance over to find him sat back on his heels, palms resting on his thighs, his face blank and serene. He’s beautiful like this, you think.

“I could kill you right now, you know,” you say, letting your eye fall shut again.

“You won’t,” he says, sounding so matter-of-fact that you’re almost convinced that you really wouldn’t.

Then you shake your head. “Don’t be so certain.”

“You didn’t kill me five years ago. You won’t kill me now.”

Gnawing at your cheek, you find you have no response for that.

The third time you face Cal Kestis, you want to hate him.

Koboh proves to be big enough for two powerful Force users. You keep to the wilderness, and he sticks to the town. For the most part, anyway. You occasionally catch a glimpse of copper hair as he explores the planet, following all the inane rumors of the locals. Why he even lowers himself to their level, you’ll never understand.

And besides, Koboh has turned out to be a perfect place to continue your search for answers about the Force. You’ve never wanted to stop knowing, never stopped asking “But why?” The Abyss above is a physical presence most days, nearly oppressive in its crushing weight. It absolutely deafens you in the Force whenever you try to reach for it, painful screeching assaulting your senses. There’s something behind the noise, though, but it’s too far, too deep, for you to reach it.

You haven’t seen Cal in a while now. And you’re fine with that. You’d watched his ship take off in the early hours of the morning a few weeks ago, and it still hasn’t returned.

Shrugging, you decide that today is as good a day as any to do some exploring of your own. You’ve watched Cal enough to know that there are hidden vaults on this planet, and from what you’ve been able to tell, they’re old. Maybe they’ll have some answers.

The sunrise peeks over the craggy cliffside, casting a gentle pink hue over the world, still hushed in its predawn slumber. Dew collects on your pant legs as you pass through a small clearing of scrubby bushes. A couple dozen feet up the hill glints a hint of gold. None of the Koboh prospectors would have left this alone unless it were for a reason, you figure. Maybe this is one of the vaults.

Resting a palm gently on its surface, the gold is cool to the touch. Glyphs in Basic and other languages spiral around the circular door-like structure. When you examine it through the Force, you feel the mechanism that keeps it locked, but no matter how much you push, pull, yank, shove, the door remains sealed.

“Dank farrik,” you curse. “How does Cal do it?”

“Very carefully,” a familiar warm voice says from behind you.

You barely glance over your shoulder, flushing from the embarrassment of being caught unawares, but somehow unsurprised he’s managed to find you. You should have known that even thinking of his absence would cause it to revert.

“Very funny,” you say. “What secrets are you hiding, Jedi?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Sith,” he says.

As he sidles up alongside you, you glare at him. “I’m not a Sith.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he says with a shrug. “Red saber, strong in the dark side, angry all the time.”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. His hair is longer than it has been since you first met him, and there’s another scar, pink and shiny, on his upper bicep, like he’d been cut with a vibroblade. As you study him, you also realize he looks...older. More tired. More weary.

“You look like bantha fodder,” you say helpfully.

He hums noncommittally. “Do you want into the vault or not?”

“You’re gonna let me in?” you say, eyebrows raising in surprise.

With a half-shrug, he says, “I’ve already explored this one. Nothing left in it for you to gain, except maybe some manners.”

He reveals a small, handheld device that, when he raises it toward the golden door, blips. The door expands open, revealing a turbolift in the center of the floor.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask, not moving from your spot. Suspicion bubbles in the back of your mind.

Cal pockets the device and gestures for you to go ahead, giving you a sardonic two-finger salute. “It’s in my nature.”

With that, he takes a step back, then another, and then pivots and trudges back downhill, tucking his fiery hair behind his ears.

The vault teaches you something, alright, but it isn’t manners like Cal hoped. Even two century-old tech and warbled messages from a Jedi named Santari Khri cannot lift the veil of jade that rests over your eyes. The Order has always been faulty. The Order has always been weak. Your master was always fated to die, and you to wander, adrift. You grind your teeth in anger. Is that all that exists for you? For anyone? To live and die at the whim of some cosmic, unknowable power?

The vault also reminds you of your mortality. As you work yourself into a silent rage about the unfairness of the galaxy, at the cruel and nonsensical nature of the Force, you miscalculate the distance between two crumbling stone platforms. With a Force-assisted leap, your arms windmill as you keep yourself balanced, but your feet only just manage to catch the edge of the platform. You wobble, anger bursting into fear, as the stone grates against itself before your stomach is in your throat as you plummet straight down.

The rush of frigid air steals the scream from your lungs. Try as you might, the Force refuses to help you grasp onto the quickly receding lip of this chasm.

And then pain rockets up your legs in jagged, arcing lines from your heels to your hips, and you collapse.

It’s only by sheer willpower that you don’t black out. Grit your teeth. Take a deep breath. Curse until the pain abates.

You take stock of your body. Your legs are on fire, and any attempt to move them sends a fresh wave of lava licking up your nerve endings. Otherwise, you wipe away blood from scrapes on your palms and tenderly poke at the bruises already forming on your ribs. Around you, myriad rocks and small boulders litter the cracked, moist ground. Mist clings to the spaces in between. When you look up, the ledge you fell from is completely obscured.

“No Jedi wisdom for me, Santari Khri?” you croak as you gently shift into an upright position. Your teeth squeak from clenching your jaw against the pain, but you manage to prop yourself up with your back against a sizable rock.

The mist deadens your words. Instead of an echo, it’s like the words get clipped short before they can fully materialize in the air. The back of your neck pricks. But, studying your surroundings once more, there is nothing for you to do but meditate. Perhaps, for once, the Force will provide.

You have no way of knowing how much time has passed as you sit in meditation, methodically stretching your awareness to its limits, trying to snag onto any signature in the Force that might help you out of this predicament. Your butt goes completely numb, as do your legs—a fact you feel should incite panic in your already-tight chest, but you can’t find it in you to care. By the time that you’re ready to give up searching, your throat tickles with dryness and your stomach begins to feel empty.

But just as you heave a sigh, rising out of the meditative trance, the Force tugs on your awareness. Furrowing your brow, you concentrate: up, up up up, and to the left. Something steadily growing closer. Something bright, and familiar, and warm.

Cal.

For once, you’re grateful for his annoyingly Jedi-like qualities. You track his presence through the Force, unable to do more than monitor as he seems to approach your location with frustrating slowness.

“Come on,” you mutter, mouth thick. “I’m here. Come find me like you always do.”

After what feels like another small eternity, you finally open your eyes and peer up through the opaque mist. Above, you swear you hear boots crunching on loose rock, and the distant bwee-boop of a droid.

“Down here,” you half call, half croak. The words don’t seem to make it past your throat.

For a terrible moment, you think Cal is going to search the seemingly empty vault and, not finding you within, leave. You can’t tell, through either his footsteps or his Force signature, what he’s doing up there. At the last moment, a burst of panic seizing your limbs, you lean forward with a groan and retrieve your saber, still miraculously tucked into your waistband.

The spitting crimson blade is a comfort as it screeches to life in the oppressive space.

A voice calls your name, cautious.

“Here!” you shout, voice cracking painfully in an effort to be heard.

Blue flame bursts to life somewhere above—much farther above than you initially thought—and you nearly sob in relief.

“Watch your eyes,” Cal shouts down, and you have only a moment to register what he means before you duck, retracting your blade. The unmistakable sound of saber scoring through rock reaches you, heated pebbles showering down on your covered head, and then the sound of two soft leather-clad feet touching down beside you.

Wary, you raise your head. Cal crouches next to you, his face painted with a cautious kind of concern.

“You came back?” You don’t mean to make it a question, but the softness in his eyes, the gentleness with which he ghosts his hands over your many injuries, makes you reconsider your previous anger toward him. At least, for a moment.

“Like I said,” he murmurs, “it’s in my nature.”

“Legs are the worst of it,” you say, gesturing weakly to your two limbs stretched in front of you. Both are angry shades of blotchy red and purple, but no bone peeks out from within your skin at the very least.

Cal casts a questioning look up at you, his palms hovering over your legs. You give a small nod, and he lowers his hands until they make feather-light contact with your skin. Even as careful as he’s being, pain erupts all over again when he brushes over your shin, and you squirm, cursing.

“Probably fractured the bones,” he says. “Need to get you back to town.”

You groan. “Unless you plan on carrying me out of here, Kestis, I’m not in any shape to make it all the way back.”

He studies your face for a moment, really studies it, and you can’t help the way your lips part at the intensity in his gaze. Despite the aching pain in your legs, you can’t suppress the heat blooming up your neck into your cheeks the longer his eyes roam your face. Surely he can sense the way your Force aura grows more agitated.

Whatever he’s searching for on your face, he seems to find it. Shrugging his shoulders, the curious little BD unit you’ve noticed with Cal peeks its white-and-red head up. With a boop?, Cal jerks his chin at you.

The droid slides down Cal’s back and trots up to you. Tilting its head, the mismatched eyes whir and toggle as the droid seems to study you with the same scrutiny as Cal just had.

“What—”

In the blink of an eye—faster, even—a flash of green light dazzles you, followed by the sharp pain of an injection. But that doesn’t even matter, as a blissful, cool relief spreads immediately from the injection site through the rest of your body. The ache in your legs subsides to a dull throb, and you find that you can finally move the limbs without wanting to vomit.

“Stim,” Cal explains. He rises to his feet, and holds a hand out. “Come on. It’ll wear off soon.”

His hand is warm, achingly so, when he grasps yours and tugs you to your feet. Grimacing at the wave of nausea that sweeps over you, you cling to his hand until it passes.

He’s studying the sheer rockface to either side. “I may be carrying you out of here either way. Come on. Hop up.”

He turns to retrieve your saber where you dropped the hilt—he stiffens for just a moment, so quick you think you imagine it, before he hands the hilt back to you. And then he remains facing away from you. You realize, with a deep-seated groan, that he’s removed the jacket he was wearing earlier, when he let you into the vault. His shoulders are bare and so strong and pretty and freckled and—

His soft question of your name breaks you out of your reverie.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Tentatively, you hook your arms over top of his broad shoulders, trying to ignore the way his skin feels against yours, and he crouches so you can more easily clamber onto his back like a pack.

“BD, up,” Cal orders, and you squirm as the droid clambers up your back to rest with one foot on your shoulder and the other on Cal’s.

Even with the stim working through your system much like coolant in your ship’s engine, and even with Cal doing all he can to keep you steady on his back as he Force-propels himself up the vertical rockfaces of this cavern, you bite into your cheek hard enough for it to bleed to keep yourself from yelping in pain. It’s bad enough that he had to save you from a slow death in this Force-forsaken vault; he doesn’t need to know the fire that licks up your nerve endings with every jostle.

You shuffle off his back as soon as you’re able. A grimace contorts your features as you stumble a few steps, but you wave away Cal’s steadying hands.

“I’m fine,” you grit out.

“Yeah, you look fine,” he says.

You shoot him a glare, but you’re more exhausted than you are angry. “You didn’t have to come back for me.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he says, gesturing for you to step onto the turbolift first, “I don’t expect anything in return. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Ha,” you bark out. Your stomach lurches as the turbolift shudders into its ascent. “Of course I owe you, Kestis. It’s all about balance.”

“Balance,” he says, his voice strangely hollow and contemplative. “You murdered Rexan Binette and Sarela Webb and the others for balance?”

The names of the Jedi you killed reverberate off the curved walls of the lift chamber. Breathing through your nose, you avoid his gaze—and then shake your head at yourself, angry. Why should you be ashamed? It was them or you.

The lift comes to a smooth halt at the top, and you’re somehow unsurprised to find that it appears to be dawn again. Your eyes find Cal’s green ones. They look nearly black in the early morning haze. His expression bares all of his emotions: hurt, suspicion, concern, worry. But he doesn’t seem...afraid. Not of you, anyways, and instead of filling you with rage, that realization makes you deflate.

“The galaxy changed,” you say, voice flat. “You change with it, or you die.”

He fixes you with his stare for a moment more, and then shakes his head and begins the long walk back downhill without a word. Heaving a sigh, you follow him. You can’t repay the debt you now owe him if you die from an infected wound. You tell yourself that the heat bubbling in your chest is hate, hate that you’re now bound to this life debt, hate that of all people you’re in debt to Cal Kestis. But hate has never felt so soft.

The final time that you and Cal Kestis cross paths, you remember why hatred is easier.

It’s only a few weeks after when you’ve fully healed thanks to Cal’s quick intervention, the extra stores of bacta that you had the good foresight to stash in your ship years ago, and perhaps a nudge from the Force. You’ve retreated to your ramshackle abode in the wilderness; thankfully, the worst you have to deal with upon returning is a stray Bogling. No matter how hard you try to shoo the pesky creature away from your hut, it comes back again.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you grumble, watching the Bogling scratch at the dirt out front of your hut. It chitters as it works to burrow its den.

Cal has disappeared again, which works just fine for you. It’s easier to attune to the Force when he’s gone. When you’re not distracted by his burnished radiance, his soothing calmness, his serene meditation posture, his hair that looks as soft as the Bogling’s fur, his...him.

Genuinely, who the kriff does Cal Kestis think he is? Where does he get the right to continue to do good in the galaxy when all the galaxy wants is to kill him? To kill everyone like him? How does he continue fighting?

For that matter, how do you continue fighting? The sudden self-introspection is jarring. You squint a glare up at the Abyss, the technicolor explosion hanging heavy in the sky, as if it personally arranged your fated entanglement with the Jedi. As if it asked the question of your purpose, not your own conscience.

You have to squint in part because, in the Force, the Abyss is blinding. Stare too long and you’ll be blinking away spots from your vision for hours afterward. As your eyes start to water, you shake your head and bring your gaze back to terra firma. Kark it all, you think, bitter. You continue fighting because you have to. Because you have to know the answer. You have to understand the balance.

In the Force, you’ve watched for years as the streaks of light in your otherwise void-like existence pulse and contract. Here, underneath the staggering presence of the Abyss, the galactic, even cosmic, struggle between Light and Dark, splashes across your own skin, a microcosm. It makes you angry all over again, as you study the vapors of golden lightness drift around you. The anger is good. The anger makes the darkness pulse and surge and rise; the anger makes you more focused.

Gritting your teeth, you try to hang onto the anger.

And then you don’t have to try at all. In your peripheral awareness, the Bogling has scurried in fright into your small hut as the sound of footsteps—many, many footsteps—echoes off the surrounding cliff walls. Your lips curl back in a snarl at being interrupted. Saber hilt smacking into your palm with a familiar weight, the unsteady red blade fills your small clearing with a threatening hum.

Around the corner comes a full squad of Imperials. For a moment, you have to blink, to make sure that what you’re seeing is correct. But no. The hard white duraplast armor gleams in the midday sun, the mixed group of scout- and Stormtroopers advancing as one giant, grotesque organism. And at its midst, in the nucleus, are two black-clad figures wielding crackling electrostaffs.

Purge Troopers.

How dare they. How dare they come to your planet—and you hesitate only a moment over the possessiveness in your anger—and only another moment more when you find that you include Cal’s place on Koboh in that possession. This is your planet, together. The Light, and the Dark.

In all things, balance.

“Enemy located,” crackles the voice of one of the troopers. You don’t know, and don’t frankly care, which.

As the white-clad troopers fan out in a loose semicircle, blasters and batons raised at half-ready, the two Purge troopers continue a few paces forward. They’re nearly identical, all the way down to the way that they settle their weight on their right feet, perfectly unbalanced.

“You won’t get away,” the one to your left calls, his voice imperious and cold. “Not this time. You’ll be coming with us.”

“Don’t be so sure,” you call back, feigning disinterest. Through the Force, you mentally draw the battle map, the path of carnage and rage and blood you’ll wreak through the ten troopers in front of you.

“There are ten of us,” the other Purge Trooper says, voice cocky and self-assured. The battle map in your mind halts, then reasserts itself with a new pattern. One that places Mr. Cocky and Arrogant at the top of your assault.

You snort. “Glad to know the Empire is teaching its troopers basic math. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You twirl your saber in a half circle around your body, a familiar ritual, a reset button to remind you to keep your head clear. As blasters raise to full height, you take a deep, centering breath, and close your eyes.

A silence takes over your ears, your mind, your very being. You are one with the Force; the Force is with you. Despite all your issues with the cosmic Force, you know it will not fail you now. You don’t hear the order to fire, you don’t hear the clicks of triggers, you don’t hear the scream of blaster bolts. You don’t need to. Guided by the Force, void-like and in command, your arms—your saber—jumps into place.

Four blaster bolts pelt your way. Four blaster bolts ricochet and catch their originators in the chest. Four troopers fall.

You open your eyes, lips tugging back over your teeth in a mockery of a smile. Sound returns to you just as one of the scout troopers, shaken, stumbles back with a cry: “St-Stormtrooper KIA!”

You enact your battle map.

Gathering the Force to yourself, you push off the ground and shoot forward with a Force assist, your saber swinging up and cleaving back down at the critical juncture between the cocky Purge Trooper’s neck and shoulder. The glowing plasma sinks easily through duraplast, fabric, and flesh alike; the trooper’s groan of pain gurgles as your blade cuts through his lungs. Now there are five.

You whirl, saber moving nearly of its own accord to intercept each blow that the remaining troopers rain upon you. It’s nearly child’s play to parry their attacks, send them staggering off-balance. In a crucial moment where all your opponents hesitate to move forward again, you bare your teeth. Reaching out with a clawed hand, you grip the throat of one of the troopers, lift him bodily with the Force, then yank down as hard as you can. There’s a satisfying crack when he hits the ground.

You’re doing fine. You’re going to triumph here; the Force has willed it so. The fear of the remaining troopers is palpable and you draw on it, siphoning it into yourself, into your cracked and screaming kyber crystal. With a leaping slash, two trooper heads bounce away.

The remaining two troopers look at each other. You don’t need the Force to smell the fear rolling off of the scout trooper in waves, and you fix him with a feral grin.

“No more quips?” you ask, voice harsh.

He drops his baton and runs.

“Just you and me,” the Purge Trooper observes.

“How very astute of you,” you say. “Your friend was the smart one. You can still run; I’ll let you go. For now.”

“Not a chance.” The buzzing electrostaff twirls through the air as the Trooper lowers into a defensive crouch. “Surrender.”

“Not a chance,” you echo, matching his stance. “Now, why don’t—”

A voice, familiar and warm and distracting, shouts your name from above. Like a fool, you hesitate, turning. There’s a glimpse of coppery hair, a blue flame, and golden radiance. You growl at the interruption—

And cry out as the electrostaff comes down across your upper back, singeing into your clothing, biting into your skin.

You drop to your knees, vision blurry. Stupid. That was stupid.

The Purge Trooper immediately raises the staff for another strike, but before it can make contact with the back of your neck, a rush of energy steamrolls over you and shoves the trooper fifteen feet back. His heels dig into the soft dirt.

“Jedi!” If the trooper is surprised to see Cal Kestis coming to the rescue of the likes of you, you can’t hear it in his voice. “Guess this is my lucky day.”

“Don’t count on it,” you wheeze. Grunting in pain, you shove to your feet and reset, saber singing in the air, the smell of ozone stinging your nose.

Your name again, gentler this time, and closer. This time, you don’t turn, instead waiting for him to come to you. And he does, just like you knew he would. In the corner of your eye, Cal Kestis and his supernova signature provide something like...comfort. Heat bubbles and sputters in your chest at his closeness. This feeling is hate, you reassure yourself.

“You’re hurt,” he says, voice pitched low.

“I’ve had worse,” you say. “You here to help, or to mock?”

He fully faces you, and you sense more than see his eyes rake over your profile. With a shake of his head, his copper hair flowing nearly to his shoulders, he raises his saber, point-first, toward the Purge Trooper. With a satisfied smile, you swing your saber in lazy circles. Finally.

The two of you attack at the same time, nudged along by the Force. Together, you flank the trooper, whose training seems to have prepared him for a moment such as this. But for all the training this trooper has, you and Cal have more. You and Cal have more to fight for. More to lose. More to gain.

Cal’s blur of a blue saber slashes through the air, at every turn blocking the trooper’s pressing attack, forcing the Imp to recalibrate. And when he attempts to do so, tries to even catch his breath, you’re there, the Force driving your swings harder. You know the blows that land on the staffs jar the Imp’s wrists all the way to his shoulders. You know he’s going to falter. You know he’s going to die.

When the fear once again rises from this trooper, you smile.

Overconfident, you twirl, blade seeming to bend as it whirls through the air. It will connect with the trooper at his waist.

It does—but his staff connects with you once again at your own waist, and this time it bites into your flesh and holds.

“No!” Cal’s shout is harsh and angry. With a final flash of blue, the Purge Trooper slumps sideways, body collapsing into the dirt. The momentum yanks the electrostaff out of your side.

You drop your saber hilt to press against the bleeding wound, hands shaking. Kark, this hurts. Why does it hurt so bad? Cal’s face, with wide, scared green eyes, appears in your field of vision.

A spark of anger temporarily distracts you from the pain in your side and along your back. “Kestis,” you grind out. “I had it under control.”

“It’s in my nature,” he says, like that explains everything. You suppose it does. Your anger abandons you, and you stagger forward, into his embrace.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against you as he ducks under your arm, taking your weight. “C’mon, we’ll get inside and I’ll patch you up.”

“Got any more of those stims?” you ask, words slurring a little. You glance down at your side and blink dumbly at the amount of red staining your clothes.

“A few more,” Cal says. “They’re yours. Just need to get you inside.”

The several dozen feet to your hut pass in a blur and in a blink—you’re not sure which. Maybe it’s both. But you sigh as you settle down into the familiar comfort of your small cot. In the corner, you’re dimly aware of the Bogling cowering below the small kitchen table. Critter is cute, you suppose. Maybe it can stay.

You’re delirious. That has to be it. You’d never willingly take in a stray.

BD hops up on the cot next to you and, at Cal’s nod, ejects a glowing green stim canister. Cal catches it and then plunges the small needle into your side, just above the gash there. Cool relief tingles through you, and you smile at him.

“That feels good,” you mumble.

“I’m glad,” he says, an odd note in his voice. “You got medical supplies?”

You gesture vaguely to the screened-off back corner, your ’fresher. “If I do, s’in there.”

BD stays with you while Cal rummages through your meager supplies, the little droid’s head tilted to the side as though studying you. You blink at him.

Bwoop-beep? the droid chimes.

“I don’t speak Binary, sorry,” you say.

Cal chuckles, returning with a handful of supplies. “He’s wondering if you’re feeling okay.”

You feel okay enough to feel annoyed at the question, and you shoo the little droid off your bed. When you return your attention to Cal, he’s hesitating, a roll of gauze, bottle of alcohol, and a needle in his hands.

“What,” you ask, flatly.

“Need to take your shirt off to clean the wound properly,” he says, and if you knew him better, you might think he sounds nervous. Embarrassed, even.

But you don’t know him that well, and so you ignore his tone of voice. “Fine.”

You struggle for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, hissing as the movement pulls at the wound in your side. Once it’s off, you throw it toward the ’fresher.

Cal still hesitates, his eyes everywhere but on you. Another surge of annoyance flares in you, and you snatch the medical supplies out of his hands.

“I’d really like to not bleed out here, Kestis,” you admonish. He at least has the sense to look abashed at that, and assists you in cleaning out the wound, stitching it shut, and wrapping you in gauze to keep pressure on it. You don’t let out a single curse, hiss, or groan the entire time, making the inside of your mouth bleed with how hard you bite down.

“You okay?” he asks once you’re bandaged up.

“What do you think?” you retort. “M’gonna sleep. You can go.”

“I’ll stay,” he says. He withdraws, but remains in your small hut, slinging himself into the hand-hewn wooden chair at your dining table. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Why?” You can’t help the way the question sounds equal parts frustrated and incredulous.

“Just sleep, Sith,” he says. His voice brooks no argument, and for once, you have none.

When you wake, it’s still light outside. Your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with gauze and left to dry out, your head not much better. With a soft groan, you roll onto your side and peer into the half-lit room.

Cal’s already watching you. His gaze meets yours and pierces you, pinning you to the small cot tucked against the wall. Swallowing against the dryness in your throat, you study his features. The dark scar across his face. The lean lines of his torso and muscles. The strand of fiery hair that curls over his forehead and teases his chin. Despite the lingering shards of pain in your side, heat flickers in your core.

“Why did you really come here, Cal?” you ask, voice low, the stillness around you demanding to remain unbroken. “Why did you come back for me at all? You know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve killed. I can’t be worth saving.”

He is quiet as he contemplates your question, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. Silence stretches between you, slow and languid, and you nearly hold your breath waiting for his response.

Eventually he gives a half shrug. “There was a time when I believed everyone is worth saving. Since the Empire, things have...been different. I’m not so sure everyone deserves to be saved.”

“So why come back?”

His eyes are soft when they find yours again. You want to be angry, want to latch onto the residual pain in your body and sharpen it into a vibroblade, hurl it outward from yourself and hope it hurts him as much as you’ve been hurt. In your gut, the darkness stirs, but in your heart, the light whispers patience.

“I see too much of myself in you to not come back for you,” he says, so quiet you nearly don’t process the words.

But when his confession does register, you blink in surprise. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“We couldn’t be more opposite, Kestis,” you say. “Do you know what you look like, in the Force?”

When he remains silent, shifting in the wooden chair uncomfortably, you push yourself up into a sitting position. A sigh sloughs out of your throat.

“You’re the most...beautiful thing I’ve seen,” you say, hesitating only briefly over the words. “You shine. You’re a beacon of light. Stars, Cal, you’re practically a star yourself.”

His lips part in surprise, and you can’t ignore the way your core twists at the expression. “But—”

You raise a hand. “There’s darkness there, sure, but you are the light, Kestis. And sure, there may be light in me, but believe me, I’m a void. The void. You’ll never carry the sins that blacken my soul.”

His toned chest rises and falls with his rapid, shallow breaths. When he swallows, you watch the way his throat bobs, the muscles that strain at his neck, the tightening of his hands into fists. Without even needing to look, you can feel the way his Force signature roils with confusion and surprise. You’ve caught him off-guard, yet again. The knowledge sends a pulse of heat to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he whispers.

You frown, brows furrowing. “What?”

“In the Force,” he says. “Show me.”

“I’ve never—”

“I have a gift.” He grimaces. “Psychometry. It might not work. But I want to see.”

Ah. You understand how he knew the names of the Jedi you murdered, and glance at your saber hilt resting on the table near him. How much has he seen?

Apparently, not enough.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you shrug. “Fine. C’mere.”

The cot groans under the added weight, not meant for two people, but it holds. You adjust yourself to sit with your legs crossed, your knees touching Cal’s as he mirrors your posture. A slight twinge tugs at your ribs as you move. Cal’s eyes soften again as you grimace.

“Don’t,” you grit out. “Save your pity.”

“It’s not—” He huffs. “Whatever.”

Glaring up at him through your eyelashes, you nevertheless rest your hands palm-up, fingers outstretched toward him. Cal gently rests his hands over yours. His skin is heated, electric where it touches yours. The thought crosses your mind, fleetingly, what your odds would be if you decided to finally end it here and now; the thought disappears as soon as his calloused fingers wrap around your forearms.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Feels right,” you reply in the same tone. “Here goes nothing, yeah?”

You inhale a deep, centering breath, and allow yourself to sink into the currents of the Force. For a moment you have to squint as Cal’s truest form explodes across your perception. This close, you’re surprised he doesn’t radiate any extra heat. You’re also surprised at the imperfections you find in his signature, the small nicks in the otherwise flawless, gleaming golden skin. You have to restrain yourself from leaning forward to examine him even closer. The desire to know him, to pick him apart and put him back together, rushes through you, pulsing in your fingertips.

When you feel adjusted to his presence, this close, this intoxicating, you squeeze his hands. Focusing on the places where the two of you connect—your palms, your knees, your signatures—you will your unique sight to bleed into his awareness.

Judging from the way he stiffens and gasps, you figure it worked. Your combined abilities and strength in the Force, overlapping just this once, let him see the world like you do.

“You’re so...” He trails off, voice strained. “Empty.”

“Thanks for noticing.” You squeeze his hands again. “Do you underst— oh.”

You nearly choke as the Force nudges against your mind. For a moment, you’re no longer in your hut, but instead on an unfamiliar ship, palms pressed against a stranger’s—no, not a stranger—her name drifts to you. Merrin. You’re comparing palm sizes with her, and her hands are nearly as big as yours—as Cal’s.

You rip away from Cal Kestis and the illusion breaks.

Heat burns up your neck to your face. “What the kriffing hell was that?”

“What did you see?” he asks, concern flashing in his eyes. He reaches for you, and you lean away, glaring.

You don’t even know why you’re angry. Any emotions you’ve felt for Cal have been ones you can explain: anger, frustration, begrudging respect, competitiveness, hatred. You recognize his attractiveness, and you don’t deny the effect his presence has on your baser desires—but the nearly painful flare of possessiveness pulsing in you right now is foreign. Inexplicable.

“It doesn’t matter,” you eventually mutter. “Did you see?”

“I saw you,” he says. Tentatively, he skims his fingertips over your leg, up to your knee. When you don’t retreat, he gently snags your hand and threads your fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

You bare your teeth and tug your hand away—or try to. His fingers tighten around yours, holding you in place. “I told you before, Kestis. I don’t need your pity.”

“Then don’t see it as pity,” he says. “See it as an understanding. A mutual experience.”

Sucking on your teeth, your jaw clenches for a moment before you sigh. “Fine. Who’s Merrin?”

“An old friend,” Cal says, a little too quickly. “She’s... She went her own way a while ago.”

Something like triumph glows in you. “Good.”

He fixes you with a confused look, a crease forming between his brows. “Wha—”

You cut him off, surging forward to press your lips greedily against his. The impulse to be closer to him, impossibly close, is overwhelming in this moment. His palm is warm and steady and grounding against yours. He grunts against you, going absolutely still.

When you pull away, not moving more than a few inches away, you meet the shock in his gaze with a sense of pride. His eyes flit between yours, searching. You drag your eyes down to his lips, parted and damp and so fucking pink.

His other hand cradles the back of your head and pulls you forward into another kiss.

You groan into his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and sweet against yours, moving slowly, uncertain. You tilt your head, nudging his nose with your own. With your free hand, you grip at his shirt and claw your way into his lap. You need more. More of him, more of his warmth, more of his touch, more more moremoremore.

He breathes your name against your lips, and you shush him gently. His body is hard and lean beneath yours, his touch hesitant. Fingers still intertwined, you guide his hand to your waist. Without the barrier of your shirt, his touch burns, scorching you from the outside in. His fingers splay across your skin, trailing molten desire in their wake. Heat pulses in your core.

“Kriff,” you sigh, “please.”

“Didn’t think you had manners,” he quips, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw, down your neck.

You reach up and tug on his fiery hair, earning a low groan. “Rude.”

He chuckles against your skin, his lips brushing against a sensitive spot. A shiver dances up your spine, a quiet sigh passing your lips. When he bites down there, you moan.

“Kestis,” you pant.

“Shh,” he soothes. The hand on your waist trails down to your hip and squeezes in time with another bite to your skin. With another groan, you rock your hips down into him. A grin curls your mouth up in pleasure at the feeling of his half-hard cock beneath you.

“Off,” you order, tugging on his shirt.

He breaks away from you long enough to yank the offending article up and over his head. Your palms smooth over the rippling muscles beneath his pale, freckled skin of his stomach, and he shudders. Brushing your thumb over a blaster scar under his ribs, you press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Did it hurt?” you ask.

“I’ve had worse,” he says.

“Show me.”

His green eyes are dark, nearly black, when he meets your gaze with a questioning look. In response, you skim a featherlight trail over his torso, lingering at the scars that mar his otherwise perfect skin—mirrors, you realize, of the imperfections of his golden aura.

When you trace the pink scar that bisects his face, he shivers. His hand catches your wrist, halting your movement.

“That one,” he whispers, voice pained. “That was the worst.”

You recognize, this close, the telltale signs of a saber wound. He’s lucky to have survived that, you realize.

Kriff. You press your mouth to his once again, wrapping your legs around his torso. His body fits against yours, hard planes to soft edges, and you groan in unison. His kiss is still tentative, but he moves against you without hesitation when you deepen the kiss, your tongue licking across his bottom lip. His tongue is hot against yours. Spit slicking your lips, you groan into his open mouth.

Fuck, you need more. Pulling at his hair, you urge his head to tip back, exposing the pale column of his throat. You lick a stripe down his skin, tasting his natural saltiness, delighting in the way his cock hardens against your clothed core.

“Want you,” you mumble against his collarbone.

He hums. “I’m yours.”

That possessive flare from before practically obliterates any coherent thoughts your brain was still capable of producing. Growling, you push him onto his back, shuffling down, kissing and licking and biting at his skin as you fumble with his pants. The buttons come undone; his hips raise to help you shuck the clothing off. His cock bobs as it comes free of the confines.

“Oh fuck,” you moan. “Been holding out on me, Kestis.”

“If I’d known—” His voice cracks. “If I’d known all you needed was to be fucked, we coulda done this sooner.”

Tingles spark through your core hearing him curse—hearing him talk about something as base and dirty as fucking you. Stars, the heat in your core is nearly unbearable.

You need to taste him.

Wrapping your fingers around his heavy cock, you smear a droplet of precum over his flushed head. His body jerks in response, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you, a smirk playing at his lips. Without warning, you envelope him in your mouth. Cal cries out, hips jerking up. You moan in satisfaction around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink your mouth further down onto his length, before sucking, tongue teasing the underside of his head. One hand cupping his balls, you relax your throat and take him deep. The curls at the base tickle your nose.

“Oh stars,” he breathes. “You’re so good at that. F-Fuck.”

You hum, settling into a rhythm. His hand, broad and strong and warm, rests on top of your head—not pushing, just there, feeling you. His chest heaving, you can’t help but admire the flush rising to his cheeks, painting him in sin. Spit dribbles out of your mouth, coating the parts of him you can’t reach. Your eyes never leave his.

Snaking your free hand down your body, you moan at the pleasure that zings through you at the momentary relief of touching yourself.

“No.” Cal’s voice is strangled, strained. He flicks two shaky fingers, and your hand is yanked out from beneath your body by the Force.

An obscene pop echoes in your hut as you pull your mouth away from his weeping cock. “Either touch me, or I’ll do it myself,” you growl.

“Then c-come here,” he stutters.

Shimmying out of your pants, you discard the garments to the floor without a second thought and climb your way up his body. His hands skim your sides, his touch barely there, as your mouth reconnects with his. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of his mouth, his touch, his cock. He feels too good.

You hiss when his hand brushes against your aching sex. He breaks the kiss long enough for his eyes to find yours, a silent question there as his fingers find purchase at your core.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice. When he moves his hand against you, your vision blurs and you press your forehead to his.

“Stars, Kestis, just like that,” you hiss.

He rubs his nose against yours. “Let me take care of you.”

His touch is electric. Your body jerks against him when his fingers move just right, applying just the right amount of pressure. Heat and tension build in your belly, growing more and more taut by the second. Your legs shake on either side of his hips.

“Cal,” you whine. “Gonna cum.”

His touch retreats, and you whimper at the loss of contact.

“You’re g-gonna cum on my cock,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. The sweetness of the action contrasts with the filth of his words, and your stomach lurches.

“Fuck, yes, okay.” You spit in your hand and reach down to make sure you’re ready for him.

He slicks his own palm with spit and jerks his cock once, twice, getting himself prepped. With his hand at his base, steadying his length, you slowly sink onto him. He splits you open inch by inch, the delicious burn of him in your core drawing a pitiful moan from your chest. When he bottoms out, you twitch in his lap, chest heaving.

“T-Take me so well,” he murmurs, ghosting his fingertips over your face. “Stars, you feel so- so good.”

You whine. “Cal.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The pet name seems to surprise him as much as it does you. The heat that’s been simmering in your chest for months now, since the first time you encountered him, dulls into something...softer. More muted. More pliant.

Eyes locked together, you test the waters and raise your hips a fraction. Moans tumble from both of you at the friction, and that’s all you need. Rolling your hips, you work his cock, drawing the most delicious noises from him. He caresses your face, smooths a hand over your back, kisses you sweetly. You find just the right angle where his cock brushes against that bundle of nerves deep inside, and you shudder.

“Cal, I—”

“Yes,” he groans. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You drag your hips frantically against his, chasing the sparks bursting in your core with each thrust. His touch turns harsh as you ride him; your hips will surely bear bruises tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. You moan at the thought. Mine. Mine mine mine mine.

Rutting against that raw piece of heaven in your core, you’re blind to everything else. Your injury forgotten, the empty void that yawns in your soul, your frustration with Cal Kestis: all of it is irrelevant right now. All that matters is that you keep fucking Cal. All that matters is the way his cock feels sliding in and out of you, dragging against your walls. All that matters is the way he moans your name like a prayer.

“Need you t-to cum,” he orders, words faltering as you clench around his cock.

“I’m close,” you say, voice hoarse. The tension in your belly draws hot and tight, ready to snap.

Cal finally thrusts up to meet you when you bounce down, and you scream. That taut cord in your belly releases, snapping in two, and you see white. Pleasure explodes through you; every nerve lit on fire, tears dew in your eyes from the intensity. You claw at Cal’s chest, searching for purchase as he absolutely rails into you, chasing his own release.

Through it all, he babbles. “J-Just like that, baby. Cum all over this cock. Fuck, you’re g-gonna make me— I— fuck, ngh, I’m—”

He stills as he cums, his cock pulsing against your walls, and you jerk at the sensation, oversensitive.

Your eyes flutter as you look down at him in the gathering darkness. His skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat. As his cock softens inside of you, letting some of his cum drip out, you groan softly.

“This was a mistake,” you whisper.

He swallows visibly, and nods. “I know.”

You capture his lips in another kiss, one he returns with a fervor. Stars, you almost wish you really did hate him. This would be so much easier.

“What now?” he asks, thumb brushing over your tender hips.

You shrug. “Same time next week?”

He huffs a laugh. “Very funny.”

“Thanks.”

He hums. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

All of the heat of the last few minutes dissipates immediately, and ice knifes your insides. You push away from him finally, his cum dripping down your inner thigh as you stand, bend to retrieve your clothes, tug them on.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Kestis?”

He sighs as he reaches for his own clothes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You should have left when I told you to,” you say, arms crossed over your chest as you stare out the single window of your home at the rapidly falling dark.

“Yeah, maybe.” His hand is warm and familiar where he rests it on your shoulder. “You could...come with me.”

You narrow your eyes. “And have to live by your Jedi code? No thanks.”

“No code,” he says, quiet, contemplative. “Just the fight.”

“Just the fight,” you echo. When he nods, something you sense more than see, you sigh. “I could...tag along. Just this once.”

“Of course,” he says. His lips press against your temple. “Just this once.”

Swallowing against the strange metallic taste rising to your mouth, you blink and summon the Force. You’re grateful for Cal’s grounding presence behind you. Your signature is...muddied. Marbled black and gold. When you glance down at his hand on your skin, you find that his aura is the same as yours. Mixed. Confused.

Balanced.

Yes, you think. Hating him would have been easier.

#cal kestis x reader #cal x reader #cal kestis x gn!reader #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor fanfiction #rhiplies #rhiwrites

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spectoris · 10 months ago

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FOR YOUR LOVE | KYLO REN

pairing: kylo ren x gn!reader

summary: kylo's motivations come to light

contains: rivals to lovers, canon typical violence, elements of dark romance, obsessive!kylo, slight ooc kylo (he rambles), implied jedi!reader

word count: 0.9k

a/n: sentence starter from nightprompts, inspired by the song "for your love" by maneskin

“For being someone you hate, I’m on your mind a lot.”

Your words come out through gritted teeth, more of a spit than a sentence. Every inch of your body exerts as much force it contains to hold off against the clash of colors before your squinted eyes. Heels dug into the dark soil, your frame remains stagnant despite Kylo’s imposing bruteness. The crackling red of his lightsaber fills most of your vision, swallowing the color of your blade completely whole. A hesitant gulp runs down your throat. You hate how you can feel the heat of the blades across your cheeks, even in the wintery air.

Kylo sees past your sarcastic facade; you assume he can despite the helmet that obscures his face. His breathing comes out slow but heavy, signaling his exhaustion. To credit yourself, you did put up a good fight. The large crack on the side of his helmet where part of his singed hair peeks through sits as a testament to your force. Still, you’ve strained yourself far past your limits. The adrenaline may have given you a boost before. Now you can hardly keep your legs from shaking.

Despite the close proximity of the two blades, neither of them seem to come any closer. Through your fatigue, you notice Kylo hasn’t moved. His saber may be pressed against yours, holding position, but that’s all there is to it. There’s a sudden stillness to the air, a stark contrast to the tremors of the Force surrounding you two as you fought moments before.

“You are.”

The words take a moment to settle in your ears. You blink blankly at Kylo, grip loosening around the hilt of your weapon. In the split second you let up, Kylo’s lightsaber swings to attack your legs. Instinctively, your saber comes down to block him. You notice it again, the sudden stillness, the fact that he let you defend yourself before his weapon fully came down.

“You are.”

The helmet makes Kylo’s voice come out mechanical, as if programmed by a droid. Yet you can hear the slightest hint of his own unobscured tone. Desperate, like the confession pains him. Kylo’s lightsaber reaches for your shoulder, once again slow enough for you to block. Rather than hold the position, Kylo continues to barrel his lightsaber at you. His relentless attacks drive you further back. Though each clash covers part of his speech, you still hear the words clearly.

“I hate you. I hate you. I can never escape you, no matter how far I go.”

You can’t suppress your scoff. “You, escape me? If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who keeps coming for me. You’re the one with the army and the forces and the utter brashness to spend your resources on me, Supreme Leader.”

Your foot catches in the root of a tree, throwing you back. You brace yourself for the fall, but an invisible force keeps you upright. Looking forward, Kylo’s hand is outstretched. It quickly falls back to his side. You bring both of your hands back to the hilt of your lightsaber, holding the burning blade between the two of you. Kylo’s still burns, though he doesn’t wield it.

“Everything…All I do…is for you.”

A hot flash of anger replaces the icy chill in your spine. “What in Maker’s name are you talking about?”

“Everything! The armies, the droids, the battles—I did it all for you!” Kylo steps closer. Through the helmet, you sense his face twisted in half anger and agony. “I wanted, I needed you to rule beside me. Create an empire no one else in the galaxy could touch. You could’ve had anything you wanted. I would’ve given you everything you wanted.”

Kylo takes off his battered helmet. You want to tear your eyes away. It’d be easier to dismiss his claims as a possession of the dark side of the Force if you couldn’t sense the genuinity in his pleading eyes. The Supreme Leader has toppled out of his throne.

“Of all things,” you manage to utter, “you thought I’d want destruction?”

“Power,” Kylo spits, his typical curtness returning for a brief moment. “Even the purest of minds want power. The power to heal, the power to help.”

You shake your head no as Kylo takes more steps toward you. You push your lightsaber foward, forcing a bigger gap between you and Kylo. “I’d rather be thrown to the rancors than take anything from you.”

Kylo’s lightsaber is disarmed, now a hunk of metal in his hand. Yours continues to burn and crackle. Drive it through him. Silence him. End this now. Your hands tremble as Kylo’s wraps around them, disarming your lightsaber for you. The leather is warm to the touch, softer than you expected. You imagine your eyes to be like that of a porg’s—round, dark, and helpless. What remains of the space between you and Kylo is only a few inches that shrink with each passing second. Your nose picks up the scent of blood, fuel, and earth from his skin.

To deny the curiosity that nags at your brain is to deny the strange warmth that blooms across your skin. Both run rampant, and in Kylo’s presence only grow. The dark side of his Force coming in contact with your light side creates a dangerous thrum you feel in your veins. Both of you can sense its potential growing, and neither reject it.

“Why?” you whisper as Kylo’s forehead nearly grazes yours. “Why did you do it?”

His hand holds you steady by the nape of your neck. You gasp when he brings his lips close to your ear.

“For your love.”

a/n: this is a repost... anyway if you haven't listened to the song pls pls do it's so obsessively slutty every time i listen to it i go yes!!! this is kylo's song!!!

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #kylo ren fanfic

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athena-gunpla · 3 months ago

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HGUC 1/144 E.F.S.F Mass-Production Locality Specialization Type Mobile Suit RGM-79D "GM Cold Districts Type"

More GMs!!! I had a lot of fun with the old 2001 GM, the new 2023 'The Origin' GM Missile Pod, and the GM Sniper II, so of course I had to continue the collection.

The GM Cold Districts Type is a suit that briefly appears in the opening scene of the OVA "0080: War in the Pocket". It's a pretty basic redesign of the classic GM, with the large star removed from the shield, and extra vents added to the face (resembling the GM Sniper II from the same series) and shoulders, and an antenna added to the back of the head.

This kit in particular is from 2003 and reuses a lot of the moulds from the 2001 GM kit. However, this kit seems to have a lot of drawbacks as well. While the shoulders have been competent redesigned in a manner that resembles more contemporary kits (and makes them much more secure), the actual shoulder joint is a peg directly moulded into the torso rather than being a ball joint or hinged peg like most other kits. This gives the shoulders very limited range of movement.

The kit also has the disappointing old solid plastic beam saber, with the hand itself moulded into the saber hilt as well! This is a really bizzare choice even for 2003, so I discarded the beam sabers that came with the kit and re-used a spare from my Origin RX-78-2 alongside a beam effect, which looks a lot better.

I spent a lot of time detailing this kit. I used the old waterslide decal sheet for the 2001 GM rather than the limited foil stickers that came with the kit. I also tried a weathering method @radiofreemagica told me about where i sponged on black onto the sharp angles and high points, then drybrushed over the top with gunmetal. I also sponged on Vallejo pale brown and light rust in key areas to accentuate the weathered effect.

This was my second time using the Tamiya weathering set D on gunpla as well. I used the orange and blue on the gun to give a heat blueing effect, and the "oil stain" pigment worked great over rust areas to even out the light grey plastic.

I think the overall effect worked especially nicely on the darker torso and shield. I also had to paint the face vents, rear camera, back of the shield, and shoulder vents, as well as the yellow waist V logo and the grey border on the bottom two chest vents, so be aware if you're not a fan of colour correcting kits. Also, as always for UC kits, I did the inside of the booster jets in red.

This kit comes with limited hand options, with a single left open hand, left open fist, and right pistol grip, which was a little disappointing as I'm used to at least one open fist for each hand.

It also comes with a really neat machine gun with a large side magazine, triangular stock, and open bolt detail like a Sten MK II, but with an additional underslung grenade launcher.

Unfortunately the stock placement and large square forearms make posing the gun rather difficult, and there's only really one pose that works.

Overall I had a lot of fun building and weathering this kit, and I think I've really improved in making it look less plasticky. I think it's a great kit to round out anyone's collection, although I can't recommend it to gunpla beginners.

Thanks again to @radiofreemagica for the weathering tips!

#gunpla #hg gunpla #my gunpla #model building #model painting #model weathering #plamo #gundam #mobile suit gundam #mobile suit gundam war in the pocket #0080 war in the pocket #gundam 0080 #RGM-79D #GM

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uwingdispatch · 5 months ago

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New! High Republic lanyard keychains are here! These feature a High Republic-era Jedi insignia as well as a gold-hilted light saber as charms and the text “for light and life” in Dishabesh (seen in canon on Jedha and Ferrix) on the lanyard.

I have a bunch of fun THR stuff coming for y’all and I’m so excited to share these with you. Shop is here.

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crucifiedfaerie · 1 year ago

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Gibson Girl | Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: After a run in with the Supreme Leader, he can't seem to get you out of his head- or leave you alone.

➴ Song: Gibson Girl - Ethel Cain

➴ Part Two | Part Three

➴ Word Count: 3.4k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, kinda slowburn ??, kylo is kinda really manipulative, stalker!kylo, um he's right behind me isn't he?, the mask STAYS ON, how does he not get hot in there ??, mean!kylo to soft!kylo, alcohol plus unbalanced power dynamic so dubcon, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, hitting, slight sadist!kylo, degrading, scratching, a teeny tiny bit of blood- nothing serious), fluff if you squint, angst if you squint harder, typos and me being illiterate probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear )

A/N: i haven't written a fic in a good four years so apologies if my writing is a little rusty. my partner and i have been watching the starwars movies and the kylo ren brainrot is so real. i need him expeditiously !! i've also been reobsessed with ethel cain recently and gibson girl is sooo kylo coded so i was inspired to write. i really hope you like it, if the response to this is good i might consider making a part two possibly ?? i do have a few other fic ideas for kylo/ben that are stirring around in my brain sooo im excited to share those eventually

It seems as though you've seen the Supreme Leader around more times in the past two weeks than you ever had in the two years you've been working as a technician on the Finalizer. Like a shadow clad in metal and black leather, he seemed to follow you.

It started two weeks ago with an honest mistake. You had woken up late that morning. Rushing out of your chambers and down the hall, you turned the corner a little too quickly, fearing youd be late to work.

When you crashed into him, you thought you had run into durasteel, the way he didn't move an inch. You, however, bounced backwards, hitting the ground and sending the toolbox in your hands flying.

It wasn't until the air that was knocked from your lungs had returned that you realized this dark mass was not made of durasteel. Sitting on the floor, your eyes trailed from the boots in front of you up to the dark expressionless mask you knew only belonged to the most feared man in the galaxy. Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

At this realization you scrambled to your feet, picking up your tools as you went and fervently apologizing. You did want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, after all.

"Supreme Leader- I- my apologies sir! I didn't see you th-"

Your string of incoherent apologies was cut short by him wordlessly lifting a gloved hand to silence you. With wide eyes you stared at him as he lowered his hand, bending down to pick up the wrench you had dropped on his boot in the commotion.

He placed it in the toolbox that shook as you tightly grasped it. As he pulled away the leather of his glove brushed against your bare hand, sending a chill down your spine.

He stood there, staring down at you. Past the near-blinding glint of the cold hallway lights bouncing off the dark metal of his mask, you could see your own mortified expression in the reflection of his visor. Your gaze flickered down to the hilt of the saber he kept on his hip and you winced at the mental image of that crimson colored plasma beam he could send shooting through your abdomen at any moment.

Oh gods, im done for. Any second now.

You were pulled from the morbid thoughts of your impending demise by his deep, modulated voice.

"Do not be late." He said sternly, not a speck of emotion behind his words.

You nodded quickly, "Yes Supreme Leader, I- thank you sir!"

You ran down the hall and as you turned the corner, for a split second you saw he had turned to face your direction. Despite that cold mask, you could feel his eyes on you, burning holes through it.

In the days that followed, he began to frequently make small appearances in your life and that feeling of a pair of mystery eyes on you became a familiar sensation. Whether you were eating in the cafeteria, working through a tangle of wires behind a control panel, or simply walking down a hallway, you'd feel your stomach drop. When you looked around there he would be, a creature in a mask, staring you down from afar. After averting your gaze, pretending you didn't notice him, he would continue on and disappear into the darkness of the Finalizer.

To say you were scared of him was an understatement. Was this just an elaborate plan to kill you for dropping your wrench on his foot last week? It couldn't be. If he wanted you dead he would have sliced you in half in the hallway, gods know he's done it to people before.

Fear wasnt the only thing he made you feel. As you knelt on the floor, trying to run a diagnostic test on the navigational software, your mind wandered to who could possibly be underneath that expressionless mask and modulated voice. Was he really the terrifying creature everyone rumored him to be? Or was there a real human under there? A human man with pretty eyes and rough hands from years of training. You let your mind wander to how they would feel in your-

Your thought was cut short by the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

When you turned around he was so close you jumped and dropped your datapad on the floor. The cracking noise made your heart sink. He was standing right behind you, looming over your small frame that was crouched on the ground. He stared down at you, his masked head tilted as if he were pondering something.

"Supreme Leader. W-what do I owe this pleasure?" You managed to choke out.

Kylo reached out a hand to you, and you obliged, your trembling hand dwarfed by his own. The stiff leather of his glove gripped you tightly, lifting you up to stand in front of him.

The modulator in his mask crackled as he spoke "No need to be so terrified, little star." He chuckled a bit but his usual sternness was still present. "I've only come to ask for you to join me in my quarters tonight..." He paused, "you intrigue me."

Your brain went foggy at the sweet nickname he gave you and it felt as though you might pass out at the thought of being invited to his room. Never had you seen Kylo Ren be so kind to anyone, so why you? Your face flushed with pink as you tried to find the right words to say.

"Intrigue you? Sir I can assure you there's nothing intriguing about me, I'm just a techn-"

"Nonsense." He leaned down to get eye level with you, his helmet inches from your face. "I expect you to be there tonight after lights out. When I want something I do not take no for an answer... and I always take what I want." His voice was dead serious but you could almost hear the smirk that was under his visor.

He released your hand from his tight grip and took a step back from you. With a swift turn, he walked down the hall, not giving you a chance to respond. You stood there stunned for a moment then sank down the durasteel wall, reeling from what just happened.

Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, wanted you in his quarters. Tonight. After lights out.

Later that night, as you were getting ready, you felt like you weren't even in your own body. When you looked at the clock and saw it was 10 minutes until lights out you thought you might throw up from nervousness.

What do you even wear to see the Supreme Leader in his quarters at midnight? Oh gods I'm gonna pass out.

When you were finally satisfied with how you looked, you took a deep breath and exited your chambers. The cold quiet of the flagship's hallways sent a shiver down your spine.

What am I doing? Why would he invite me here? I should just turn around and go back to my quarters.

Your legs felt like Andorian jelly as they moved you down the dark, secluded hallway towards the front of the Finalizer. You ask yourself so many questions as you attempt to suppress every nerve in your body. He was terrifying, but there was something alluring about him, something so... attractive. Something that made you feel like a small insect being lured into a spiders web. And you liked it?

Once you reached the end of the hallway, you realize it's a dead end. The tall, dark double doors enlaid with silver told you this was probably his door.

Do I knock?

Before you could even finish your thought, they opened, seemingly on their own.

The familiar crackle of his modified voice called out to you sternly, "Come in."

You obliged, taking a deep breath before you stepped into his quarters. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the warmth of the fireplace. As you looked around, his space was about what you expected it to be, minimalistic and decorated in hues of red and black, but grand enough for a Supreme Leader.

And there he was, sitting in a red lounge chair in front of the fireplace. You saw him pick something up off the coffee table before he stood and approached you.

"I can sense your nervousness, little star. Take this and come with me." Kylo handed you a glass of whiskey before taking your other hand and leading you back towards the fireplace, motioning for you to sit in the chair across from his.

As you sat, holding the glass in one hand and feeling the velvet cushion beneath you with the other you realized you hadn't said a word to him yet.

"Supreme Leader sir, its an honor to have been invited here by you. Your quarters are... magnificent."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it, but there's no need to bother with honorifics when you're here. You may call me Kylo."

"K-Kylo..." You tested out his name, unsure if he was being serious.

This has to be a dream. This cant be real. He can't be-

He nodded, speaking as he poured another glass of whiskey for himself. "I invited you here only to get to know each other. It would be rude of me to expect my guest to be so formal with me."

You felt your face get hot and you look at the floor illuminated by the fire. "Apologies if this is too forward... but how can we get to know each other if I dont even know what you look like?"

I shouldn't have said that. Surely he'll kill me for even asking. Stupid. Stupid.

He fell silent for a moment and stared at you. You internally panicked, thinking your forwardness had angered him.

You've really done it this time.

Kylo reached up and you heard a click followed by a quiet hiss emitted from his helmet. Pulling the helmet up slightly, he revealed the bottom half of his face, and oh gods was he beautiful. His dark locks fell down and brushed his jaw which looked as if it had been carved from marble, and you think you caught the beginnings of a scar lining it.

"Compromise." He flashed a dark smile before taking a sip from his glass. Kylo's unmodulated voice was smooth and deep, a sound you could find yourself getting used to hearing. You watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed the dark liquor down.

After setting his glass back on the table, Kylo lowered his helmet and clicked it back into place.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head since our run in. You interest me so much." He mused.

You sighed shakily. "I dont mean to disappoint you s- Kylo, but there isn't much that is interesting about me or my life. Especially here on the Finalizer, most of my days tend to be the same."

You had taken only a few sips of your drink but your head was already getting foggy.

He ignored what you said, seemingly more eager to tell you something he's been wanting to say for two weeks now. "Your mind is what intrigues me most. I can hear them, your thoughts, and they are so loud." You could almost hear the smirk on his face.

He what.

"You what?" You choke out, your face going bright red.

No. no no no.

He chuckled darkly. "No need to be embarrassed, little star. I enjoy listening to your thoughts of me. How late at night you think about my hands groping your body. How you fantasize about being immoral in a complete stranger's lap. How right now you're thinking about me hurting you..." He paused, "I cannot lie to you, my thoughts have been plagued with yours for weeks now. Thats why I invited you here, so I could show you everything you wish you had."

You tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Your face was flushed with pink and the whiskey was starting to take its toll on your thinking skills.

He stood from his chair and stepped towards you, taking the glass from your hand and setting it down on the table next to his. Towering over you, he leant down closer to you. His gloved hand lightly trailed down your face and snaked it's way behind your neck, his fingers weaving through your hair. He tightened his grasp and pulled down, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me, sweet thing. Are you scared of me right now?" He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it.

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Y-yes Kylo."

"Good." He said coldly. The tone of his voice changed, as if his sweetness earlier was simply a ruse to lure you in. He pulled you up by your hair to stand, and in one swift motion he had you thrown over his shoulder.

He carried you away down a dark hallway, the light from the fireplace growing dimmer and more distant as he took you deeper into his quarters.

Like a little insect caught in a spider's web.

Once he entered his room, Kylo threw you on his bed carelessly, nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

He immediately went to work on your clothes, pulling your shirt and pants off, almost ripping them in the process. You were left only in your underwear, writhing from the heat growing in your core.

Kylo admired your body, running his cold, leather clad hands along your thighs roughly, spreading your legs. He had been waiting for weeks to do this. The seam of his glove brushed across your clothed clit, causing you to let out a whine.

"Such a pretty voice... I want to hear more of it." He said sternly before pulling your underwear to the side and running two gloved fingers down your folds, coating them in your slick. You gasped at the contact.

Without warning Kylo pushed his fingers inside your entrance, curling his fingers upwards causing your back to arch. As he pumped his fingers into your cunt, he went to work on your clit with his thumb. His other hand snaked its way up your body, stopping once it was wrapped tightly around your neck.

Waves of pleasure washed over you as he stretched you out with his fingers. You felt your climax quickly approaching "Please- sir. Please m'gonna-"

He pulled his hand away and you groaned at how empty you now felt. You rubbed your legs together to get a little bit of friction, but were halted by the sharp sting of his hand coming down on your thigh. You let out a loud yelp.

"Needy little slut." He raised one hand and an invisible force spread your legs fully and froze your entire body in place, while his other hand worked to undo his belt. "You don't get to cum until I say you can, understand?"

You only whined in response. He slapped you hard and grabbed your face forcefully, leaning down closer to you, his visor millimeters from your face. "Say it. say it!"

"Mhmm yes sir I understand!" You whined loudly. Your face stung and you could taste copper.

He let go of your face and finished freeing his cock. You nearly pass out from the sight of it.

Oh gods help me, how is that supposed to fit?

He chuckled at your thought as he lined himself up at your entrance "Don't worry little star, we'll make it fit." He said evilly before pushing inside, watching you as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of his cock splitting you open.

You nearly scream, letting out a choked whine as he bottomed out, pressing forcefully on that bundle of nerves deep inside you. You tried to adjust to his size but without any warning he withdrew himself before slamming back into you again.

His thrusts were erratic, unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with every snap of his hips.

"F-fuck... Kylo- you're gonna make m-me cum." You whined, feeling tears prick your eyes as you were reaching your breaking point.

He reached up and grabbed your throat, squeezing, which made your head feel lighter. "Shut the fuck up and hold it." He said coldly. It sounded like a whisper coming from the modulator of his mask.

He pounded into you with such power, and it sent shockwaves rippling through your body. You screamed as he thrusted into you, showing not a speck of mercy on your much smaller frame.

Kylo felt your walls twitching around him. "You wanna cum so bad don't you?" He cooed, feigning sympathy for you.

You nodded your head desperately.

"Beg for it then. Beg to cum on my cock and I might just let you." He growled.

"P-Please-" You whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"I said beg!" Kylo struck the side of your face again, harder this time.

"Please! Please let me cum Kylo!" You cried.

He let out a satisfied groan, gripping your hair and tugging to make you look up more. "Go ahead then, little star. Cum for me." You could hear the smirk behind his mask.

An invisible hand went to work on your clit as he continued to ram into you with unrelenting speed. This sent you over the edge, the tight feeling in your abdomen burst as a wave of euphoria washed over your body. You dug your nails into Kylo's back. Despite him being clothed, you know you did it hard enough to draw blood. You heard him wince but the raw pleasure he was inflicting on your body was too much for you to care about that.

He's cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed.

His thrusts became sloppy and harder as he neared his own release. He had come completely undone, his emotionless façade gone as he whispered sweet nothings and strings of curse words through his mask.

"Fuck-" He said your name, lingering on it, drawing it out in a sickly sweet way. "Gods- your body- its so- I'm in love with it. Fuck."

A few thrusts later, Kylo buried himself inside you to the hilt one last time, bottoming out and groaning as he pumped your cunt full of his cum.

You felt his cock twitch inside you as he looked down at you, hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head and breathing heavily through his modulator.

Kylo pulled out as he stood up and you felt his cum leak out of you and down your thigh onto the bed. You watched as he tucked himself back into his trousers and redo his belt. He went into the refresher attached to his bedroom to retrieve a towel and you felt the bed dip when he returned.

He wiped his cum away gently with the towel and you yelped from the sudden overstimulation.

"Shhh" he cooed, still stern. "I'm only trying to help." Kylo threw the towel to the floor and sat on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. He pulled you closer to him so your head rested in his lap. You watched as he pulled his gloves off for the first time and you took a mental note of how strong his hands looked.

He ran his long fingers through your hair and you sighed, closing your eyes. "I could get used to this." You said sleepily.

The last thing you heard before you succumbed to sleep was, "Me too, little star." Even through the crackle of his modulator, it almost sounded like he was deep in thought.

When you awoke in his bed the next morning, Kylo was gone. As you rolled to the side of the bed, you could still smell him on his bedsheets.

On the bed next to you was a black box wrapped in red ribbon, with a note attached. You opened it and inside was a new datapad, with a fresh, uncracked screen. The note read: "Little star, apologies for the broken datapad. I expect you'll be here when I return later. -K.R."

You smiled as you sunk your head back into his pillows.

#kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #starwars x reader #kylo ren #ben solo #starwars fanfic #kylo ren fanfic #ben solo fanfic #star wars #crucifiedfaerie #saint writes - !#fanfic #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker #gibson girl

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brabblesblog · 4 months ago

Text

I got my heart's desire, and there my troubles began.

Sith!Astarion x Reader one shot! Thanks for the brain rot @dovaqueendraws <3

You had snuck aboard the star destroyer, with the aim of ending the Sith scourge. Will wiser heads prevail, or will you fall to the dark side?

Ao3

Desire. Passion. Lust.

None of it was new to you, long-forgotten and yet now brought to the forefront of your mind.

Your saber hung uselessly on your belt, your robes obscuring it from view. The troopers had yet to confiscate it - with your hands bound behind you, there was little risk of reaching for it.

But that man at the far end of the table, clothed in black leather, took your mind off your weapon. Silver hair, glinting in the light of the star from the viewport behind him. Crimson eyes, a color you had been taught to be wary of, glowered from across the room.

A gloved hand rose, and with a beckoning motion, pulled you towards him.

Sith. This was what you had been here for.

He was strong in the force, that much you could tell. Those eyes flickered away as an officer leaned in to whisper. You strained your ears; if anything, some information may prove useful later.

“We hold the blockade,” the sith purred. His voice was velvety and you shivered, despite yourself.

Control yourself. You were no stranger to resisting urges such as these. Any Jedi who had passed the trials knew all too well the tribulations of resisting what came naturally. But he was…

Different.

He turned his attention to you, dismissing the officer with a lazy flick of the wrist. As he shifted you caught sight of his saber - curved at the hilt and ornate. No doubt the blade would be as red as his eyes.

“Leave us.” Those eyes never left yours as he spoke, and you barely noticed the noise as people shuffled out of the room.

He stood, his hand still lifted, holding you in place. Eyes raked up and down your body, and he sighed.

“I didn’t think Jedi still existed, darling.”

The answer was automatic, one you had learned to give in the years since the fall. “I am no Jedi.”

“And yet, you wear the robes of one. Carry the weapon of one.” He walked around you and reached down, pulling the fabric away to reveal the hilt of your saber.

You fully expected him to step away, but instead he leaned in, breathing in deeply. Your pulse quickened, and his lips curved into a smile.

“Nervous, are we? There is little to fear. I won’t hurt you.” The sith closed his eyes, as if contemplating something. “No,” he whispered, “I think I have far more fruitful pursuits than simple slaughter.”

“As if slaughter was anything new to you.”

He laughed. “You do amuse me, at least.”

There was a tug downwards, your knees buckling as you were forced to kneel in front of him. Muscled thighs, tightly bound in leather trousers, came into view. “I sense a darkness in you. A longing for…” he tilted his head. “vengeance. Not the Jedi way, I must say.”

“Like I said.” Gritting your teeth, you tried to focus your mind. Perhaps you could summon your saber into your hand while the sith was distracted. “I am no Jedi.”

He hummed in response. “You are no Bokken Jedi, at the very least.”

You straightened your back in response. No. You had been there at the fall. “Then what do you need from me? What… pursuit?”

The laughter that answered you was seductive, carefully crafted, you were certain. That did not mean you felt nothing, however, the faintest tendrils of want flowing through your body. You had not felt it in ages, had been trained to spurn such feelings, but…

There was a small click, and your cuffs fell away. You rubbed your wrists, wincing as the blood flowed into them.

“You could fight me,” he intoned, hands clasped behind his back, “or you could state the real reason for your presence today.”

“I’m-”

He raised a finger. “You say you are here for vengeance. You likely think it true - and yet your first instinct is not to go for your saber. You willingly allowed yourself to be taken in without nary a complaint, much less any violence.” Gesturing down at the planet beneath them, he continued. “Is it not far more peaceful this way? All they have to do is obey.”

“You let them leave the saber on me.” There was no other response to be had.

The sith inclined his head. “I have heard tales of Jedi on your planet - a force user that had been there since the fall. That is not unique. What is, however, are the stories I come across.”

You bit your lip, knowing what he meant. A Jedi that could be swayed by credits, a Jedi that no longer made the distinction of what it meant to be good or evil, only what it meant to live or die. A Jedi that…

“Ignite your blade.”

You swallowed, but did as asked. Unclasping the hilt you held your saber in your hands. The sith looked at you impatiently.

The room is bathed in red light.

The sith grins, face framed by the glow of your blade. “Now that the truth is laid bare… answer me again. Why are you here?”

“Fifty thousand credits for your head.”

“Fifty. A paltry sum, compared to what I offer you.” Bridging the gap that separated you from him, the sith knelt in front of you, painfully, achingly close. “You can take what you came here for, and be done with it,” he looked up through lidded eyes, “or consider my offer.”

He looked… tantalizing. Tempting. Even though you had fallen you had practiced the ways of your old masters, eschewing the pleasures of the flesh and of the heart. You had bled your crystal as your temple burned in a moment of righteous anger, had done what was necessary in the name of survival but… this? This was different.

Had you come here to kill him, and receive your payment? Or were you here to find another of your kind, so rare nowadays?

“All you need is a little push.” It was whispered, reverently, almost as if he had read your mind. A hand tucked your hair behind your ear. He watched you dither, unbothered by your still-activated saber, and leaned forward to press his lips against your own. It was as if you had been waiting, your lips parting of their own to allow him in.

You jerked towards him, but in the next second you managed to shove him back, saber aimed at his throat. He chuckled.

“Have you made up your mind then, Jedi?”

You hissed. “I am not-”

In that same second his blade met yours, red on red, dancing, weaving against each other, the low hum the only sound in the room.

That, and his breathing, the panting betraying his excitement.

No doubt he sensed yours, too.

The blades crossed, sparks winking into existence as he pressed the advantage, driving you backwards. Your back hit the wall, and your own saber inched closer to your face. His face was right next to yours, the glint of exhilaration evident in his gaze, in the slight part of his lips that revealed fangs.

The sith closed the gap, his body flush against yours. You felt something press against your thigh, something that sent white-hot lust flowing through you.

Fuck.

The blades retracted at the same time. Intention shifted into action, and it was almost as if one knew what the other had in mind.

Force trickery, no doubt. From the two of you. Divining each other’s thoughts had revealed a shared fantasy.

His cock ground against your thigh, hands squeezing your waist. He moaned into your ear.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

You grabbed his ass, and that was all the reply he needed.

“On your knees,” he whispered. “Right now.”

You did as he asked, your hand now on his thigh. Your mouth watered as he unbuttoned his trousers, freeing his cock. It was hard, pink at the head, a small droplet of precum forming at the tip.

“Was this what you came for?” Fingers dug into your hair, a surprisingly pleasant feeling, and you felt heat pool between your legs.

“I wanted…” you braced yourself. “Something.”

“Passion. Feeling.” He shuddered as you wrapped a hand around him. “You want what the Jedi have taught you to abstain from. What the sith tell you to indulge in.”

You rankled slightly. Sith? Was that what you were now? You were no longer Jedi - your blade said as much - but were you really-

“It matters not what you call yourself,” he purred. “Suck.”

You obeyed.

Not him, not really. For once in your life you listened to yourself.

His length was shoved into your mouth; rough, beautiful, amazing. You smelled and tasted him, the salty tang of precum suffusing your senses as his tip hit the back of your throat. He held you in place, the fist tangled in your hair tight and unforgiving, as he began to thrust.

You moved your hand in time with his hips, sucking and swallowing around him. He had begun to leak; you tasted more and more of it with every pass. Pressing your tongue against the underside of his cockhead was rewarded by a groan, and you felt yourself clench; that sound was exquisite, and you would do anything to hear it again.

Grasping his ass tighter you encouraged him to fuck your mouth harder, chasing him every time he pulled out. He braced against the wall, palm pressed flat against it as he rocked into your mouth. All you could hear was his ragged panting, his moans, and the wet sounds of his cock filling your mouth up.

You squeezed your thighs together in a desperate hunt for friction. The sith noticed, and he smirked. “When was the last time you had indulged?”

Too long. Far too long. You whimper, the sound muffled, your lips still wrapped around him, mid-suck.

He pulled out; you watched as a trail of saliva lingered on his cockhead, linking you and him for a second. His length glistened with saliva, twitching as he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking lazily. The hand on your hair loosened.

“On the table, darling. Let it not be said that I am a cruel master.”

You snorted, despite yourself, and divested yourself of clothing. The fabric fell away as you clambered on, legs hanging off the edge.

He approached you, his cock jutting out proudly as he leaned over you.

The first rub he made against your clit sent shivers up your spine. You whimpered as he made another pass, his length rubbing with a teasing slowness.

“So wet and eager for me.” He paused. “Tell me what you want, and I shall provide.”

“Fuck me,” you spat out. “Please.”

There was a sharp bark of laughter, and then bliss.

He had buried himself in you with one quick thrust, hands braced on either side of your face. He shut his eyes, and when he reopened them there was nothing left there but desire.

You bucked up and he responded in kind, beginning to roll his hips hard and fast.

Your legs wrapped around him, asking for more - deeper, harder - and he obliged, pumping in and out with relentless speed.

Every thrust spread you open and filled you with him, hitting your spot mercilessly. He was the perfect length, the perfect girth, each pass pure heaven. As he held you down with a hand on your shoulder all you thought of was this, him buried to the hilt inside you, every throb and twitch telling you just how much he wanted this, too. You felt yourself clench around him, your walls holding him tight and making him gasp. He pinched a nipple, then moved to squeeze your breast, further intensifying the feeling.

His ass clenched, muscles tensing, and you knew he was fast approaching his climax. Red eyes gazed down at you, silver hair falling and framing his face, chest heaving with every breath. You met those parted lips with your own, and his tongue slipped into your mouth without a second thought.

A gloved hand snaked down between your legs, tracing rough circles around your clit. You whined, bucking up against him, and he murmured a quick good girl as his pace intensified.

You could have this forever, and it would not be enough.

His fingers grew more insistent, and you were sure his gloves were soaked in your slick. You felt it begin, that heat in your stomach, painfully close to unfurling.

His cock throbbed as he gasped, his movements losing rhythm as he skirted the edge. Your legs held him tighter, pulling him flush against you. He growled, a quick nip on your lips the only warning you received.

And then you felt it. His cock gave one hard pulse as his climax took him, hips jerking involuntarily as he shuddered. His orgasm brought you yours, your walls clenching tight as he filled you up with his seed, your back arching off the table. In that moment nothing mattered other than this, that the blooming pleasure radiating from your linked bodies.

If this is what it meant to fall, then you would do so willingly.

As you came down from your high, you opened your eyes to see him watching you. He braced, then gently pulled out, visibly shivering as his cock met the cold air.

“Was that what you came for, darling?”

Teasing, wry. He knew he had you.

“A little more than I bargained for,” you admitted, “but I don’t mind.”

What was left unspoken was nevertheless known. You would stay by his side.

The sith tugged his trousers back on, a half-smile on his face. “Then get dressed.”

He looked out through the viewpoint.

“We have a galaxy to rule.”

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starlazergazer · 2 years ago

Text

Flirting with the Dark Side

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: An Anakin (hades) x Reader (persephone) au!

Warnings: None

Word count: 6.5K

A/N: Not gonna lie I struggled with this one lol. It’s more a story loosely based on the myth so I truly apologize if what you were hoping for was something more faithful to it but I really hope you like it!

You can still remember exactly what time it had happened. Exactly where you were, what you were doing, how it felt when Anakin had gone to the dark side.

It hit you as more than just a disturbance in the force, a breaking of prophecy, instead it was as if the weight of the world you had balanced so carefully on your shoulders finally came crashing down.

You felt your knees buckle beneath you, threatening to drop you to the floor, the air forced from your lungs as you were left with nothing but a soul crushing feeling of emptiness and dread. You knew something was wrong, that something was wrong specifically with Anakin, and if you were being completely honest with yourself you knew exactly what had just happened.

But you refused to allow yourself to believe it.

You doubled over, hands on knees as you tried to catch your breath, tried to calm yourself down, tried to reach out with the force for more info. None came.

In the halls of the temple Jedi rushed past you, all running to the doors, none really paying attention to where they were going as they bumped into each other, a massive hoard desperate to escape.

Instead, you walked upstream.

You hadn’t planned your next stop, not that you had much of a plan to begin with, but on pure gut instinct you looked into the training room, finding it full of bewildered younglings.

Before you could even think of what to do next they were whispering your name, hope flooding the room as they saw your familiar face emerge, believing you knew what to do. Oh how you wished you knew what to do.

“Are you all here?” You tried to put as much authority into your voice as possible, tried to ignore the sounds of Jedi fleeing for their lives just outside the door, tried to ignore the feeling that your whole world was crumbling around you, tried to put on a brave face.

The kids all looked around, mentally taking attendance before turning back to you nodding, more than a dozen pairs of hopeful eyes staring up at you expectantly. You could only think of one thing to do: get them out.

“Ok follow me” You instructed them, ushering them to get behind you as you turned around, stopping dead in your tracks at the appearance of a dark figure in the doorway, a rather familiar dark figure.

“Ani?” You asked hesitantly, almost hopefully, but it felt wrong, the room felt strangely dark and cold, and from the way the kids coward behind you you knew you weren’t the only one to feel it.

The figure said nothing, stayed rooted in the doorway, not moving a muscle. And in response you felt your fingers twitch, felt an itch in the back of your head telling you to grab your lightsaber.

Instead you stayed put, every muscle in your body tensing as you tried to prepare for the worse “Ani is that you?”

What responded was nothing more than the sound of a lightsaber igniting, a column of blue erupting from a familiar hilt in the figures hand, blue light illuminating the side of Anakin’s face finally.

“Move” his voice was deep and harsh, it was a voice he had never used with you before, it sent an uncomfortable chill up your spine.

“No” you answered simply, reaching for your own saber in response, gripping it tightly in your hand but refusing to light it yet, a part of you still insisting that Anakin was not your enemy.

And for the first time Anakin raised his head, the folds of his hood revealing his eyes as they came up to meet yours, golden yellow eyes instead of the soft blue ones you were so used to.

And despite yourself you let a small gasp escape, your stance faltering ever so slightly as you were met with your worst nightmare. “Anakin what have you done?”

Anakin didn’t bother to answer your question, the grip on his saber tightening as instead he responded “I said move Y/N”

You lit your own saber, its glow joining Anakin’s to illuminate the room, a protective hand sweeping out to cover the heard of younglings from him “And I said no”

You could see him faulter ever so slightly, his jaw clenching visibly, his breathing getting ever so slightly deeper “New orders” he responded simply “eliminate all jedi”

“They’re younglings Anakin” You shot back “they’re innocent”

Again you were met with silence, Anakin refusing to back down, staying rooted to the spot, unfamiliar yellow eyes staring down into yours.

“Well what about me?” You tried “I’m jedi why aren’t you trying to eliminate me”

You could see the effect your comment had on him. Anakin, if only for a moment, looking taken aback, as if it had never occurred to him that you fell under the elimination order. And after a second of silence he shut down his saber, tilting his head to the side slightly as he looked at you. “I can feel your anger”

You scrunched your eyebrows at him, your grip on your saber tightening as you tried to prepare for whatever trick this was “of course I’m angry”

“That’s not very jedi of you” his response came quick and casually, pieces of the old Anakin, of your Anakin slipping back in as he spoke. “Don’t you think it’s weird we were taught to suppress an emotion as natural to us as breathing?”

“Where are you going with this?” You asked through clenched teeth, his blasé attitude making you feel more uneasy than ever.

“Join me”

It was your turn to be taken aback, your body physically recoiling as his words hit you, the simplicity with which he said them making the invitation feel natural, expected even. “what?”

“Join me” he repeated, taking slow hesitant steps closer towards you, all but ignoring the saber you held defensively in front of you “you are a powerful jedi, exceptional with the force imagine the kind of power you can have with the dark side”

“I-I-“ You stuttered, your brain struggling to keep up with what he was saying “I can’t join the dark side”

He simply shook his head, still approaching you “okay then don’t” he dismissed the idea quickly “just join me”

“I don’t understand-“

“Join me” he repeated, cutting you off, “choose me, be by my side as I bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy like it has never seen before” and you could see in his eyes that he truly believed that, truly believed that was he was doing was right and just, truly believed he was on the path to change things for the better.

And you could see the old Anakin returning again, the softness in his features, in his voice, as he pleaded with you. And a part of you broke.

You looked back behind you, dozens of scared wide eyes looking up at you, and you knew what you had to do. “If I come with you, you have to leave the younglings alone. I need to know that they are going to be safe”

And at this the corners of Anakin’s mouth lifted, “for you love,” he lifted a hand to you in invitation “anything”

You stayed poised to attack for a moment longer, your eyes bouncing back and forth between his looking for any sign of deception, any sign that this was a trick, and you found none.

Hesitantly you retracted your saber, the lack of its glow plunging the room into a soft darkness.

And with a deep breath you took his hand.

You did your best to ignore him as he led you through the hallways, and Anakin, to his credit, did the same. So long as you didn’t talk you could pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t all but kidnapped by a man you had once considered to be a close friend, that he hadn’t joined the dark side, that the jedi order hadn’t fallen, that thousands hadn’t died.

“Right here” Anakin stopped suddenly, nodding to the door.

You took a second to collect yourself, to consider what you had agreed to because you knew once you stepped through that door there was no going back. Hesitantly you reached forward, opening the door with the touch of a button, revealing a massive, beautiful room on the other side.

And despite yourself you had to admit you were awe of the room, the sheer size of it bigger than any you had seen before. A massive bed piled with more pillows than you knew what to do with, a roaring fireplace as gorgeous as it was warm, a massive balcony with a sweeping view over the city, framing a perfect sunset before your eyes.

“This is your room” You could hear the smile in Anakin’s voice as he said it, clearly happy at your reaction.

“And where will you be staying?” His smile dropped. You knew it was a low blow as you said it, watching the smirk fall from Anakin’s face at the implication that he wouldn’t stay with you. But you felt trapped and vengeful, feeling the need to lash out and hurt him so that he may feel as you did at having lost everything at his hands.

“The room next door” he answered simply, doing his best not to let his anger show and you relished in his restraint because though it may have been a small thing it still felt good.

“I think I’ll get some sleep” you nodded towards the door behind him.

Anakin got the hint immediately; having known you would try and get rid of him quickly “Of course” he nodded formally and turned to leave.

And though it was exactly what you wanted, to be left alone with your thoughts for just a moment, to be given some time to digest your knew life, you knew you had to ask. “Could you have done it?” You called at him over his shoulder, Anakin spinning on the spot his face clearly showing his displeasure at having been asked the question, though clearly not shocked by it either. “If I hadn’t been there could you have done it?”

“But you were there” he answered simply, his shoulders hunching slightly as he made a point to look you in the eye

“But if I weren’t” you pressed further, showing him you weren’t letting this go so easily.

He looked you up and down for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking “you don’t want me to answer that”

And you felt your heart break a little more in that moment, though you suppose you did it to yourself. Before then a part of you still believed he couldn’t have, still believed it was some sort of trick or a moment of weakness. Anakin’s non answer however squashed any of that hope.

“Right” you sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself, turning your back on him and making your way to the bed, a silent dismissal of him.

Anakin stayed rooted on the spot for a moment, every fiber in his being screaming at him to reach out to you, to go and wrap his arms around you, comfort you as he had so many nights before.

Instead, he did the smart thing. He left.

You had hoped that sleep would be some sort of reprieve. A brief escape from where you were, from what your life had become.

Instead you had laid in bed for hours, unable to quiet your mind enough to fall asleep.

The sun had risen too quickly and you weren’t ready to face the day, to figure out where you fell in this new life, what you were to do.

It seemed, however, you didn’t have much of an option. A knock on your door was all the warning given before people rushed into your room with serving trays piled with food, servants wordlessly filling the table in your room with the dishes before leaving with no explanation.

Mere minutes later the door sounded again and in strolled Anakin this time, giving you little more than a nod and a smile before walking over to the table and taking a seat.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice groggy from the morning as you refused to get out of bed still.

“Breakfast” he answered simply, piling the plate before him with food.

“In my room?” You continued to press, wrapping the blanket protectively around you as you finally sat up staring across the gigantic room at him.

“We always used to eat together” He prompted, shoving a piece of food into his mouth.

“Sure we used to”

At this he set down his silverware, for the first time since walking in making it a point to make eye contact with you “I don’t see why things have to change Y/N”

And to that you could do nothing but stare, your mouth hanging open ever so slightly, because how could things not have changed after what had happened.

“Look” he sighed, picking back up the silverware and turning back to his food “you don’t have to join me, don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to…but I would like it if you did”

And despite yourself you could feel the smell of the food getting to you, your traitorous stomach rumbling loudly, you could see Anakin’s lips quirk up at its sound.

With a dramatic sigh you pushed yourself from the bed and made your way to the table, purposefully picking a seat that wasn’t close to Anakin’s though it didn’t seem to matter to him. With a small smile he had picked up the plate in front of you and began piling it with anything he thought you would like and though you would never admit it he got the selection spot on.

Not making eye contact you picked up the fork in front of you and shoveled some food into your mouth, only the sounds of the scrape of silverware on plates filling the air as you and Anakin ate in silence.

“I would like to go outside” the words came out of your mouth just slightly too loud, the exclamation surprising Anakin enough for him to straighten on impulse.

“Okay?” It came out as a question, a single brow raised in your direction.

“Is that allowed?” You asked sheepishly, “can I go outside?”

And at this he chuckled, his posture slumping slightly again as he relaxed, turning back to his food “you’re not a prisoner”

“Am I not?” You asked with a raised brow, daring him to contradict you “could I leave if I wanted to?”

Anakin to his credit seemed sheepish in his response, his head hanging lower as he dropped eye contact “it’s not safe for you out there”

“I can handle myself” you scoffed “I’m a jedi knight-“

“Were a jedi knight” he corrected you “and be careful who you say that around. They’re hunting the jedi down now”

“and these are the people you chose to align yourself with?” you asked him, dropping your fork and crossing your arms over your chest.

“the jedi order was corrupt” he answered simply “claiming to be a keeper of peace while doing nothing but the senates bidding in order to perpetuate a war the jedi had no business being in”

“How else do you keep peace during wartime” You asked him “rather than seek to end it as soon as possible?”

“then we should’ve been given the proper tools to do that” he shot back “we were brought up to be peacekeepers then thrust into the roles of generals. Leashed by a code that served no purpose other than to stop us from ensuring victory on the battlefield in the name of peace and false morals”

And to your surprise you had nothing to say back to that, having no real response back.

“I just want you to be safe” he sighed softly, running a hand through his hair “so for now at least please just stay here”

You did nothing but nod in response, resigning yourself to go back to eating in silence, maybe some time here to think would be good.

Over the days you started to grow used to your schedule, eating breakfast and dinner with Anakin, spending most nights usually in the same room as him, he not forcing interaction between you and you grateful for the peace.

Other than that you had the day to yourself and you had to admit you were enjoying being able to fully relax for the first time in your life, no training, no battle, no planning. It left you a lot of time to think.

And the more you thought about it the more Anakin’s words were getting to you, the more they started to make sense. You had never agreed completely with the Jedi council, upset they were often more eager to serve their own agenda rather than truly serve the people of the republic.

You could see that Anakin now was seeking to do no more than what he was told he would do from the beginning, bring peace to the galaxy as a whole.

But was this really the right way?

Anakin came back to your rooms that day much later than usual, missing dinner by nearly an hour, but you refused to let anyone take the food before he could get any.

As soon as he entered the door you could feel the temperature drop, not needing the force to feel the anger radiating off of him as he strode towards the table wordlessly. You were no stranger to Anakin’s anger, having witnessed it countless times throughout your childhood with him. He was never one to take orders blindly and you doubted that quality changed even when he was on this side.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you forced your way over to him, taking the seat across from him as he started to fill a plate.

Anakin barely cast you a glance, looking briefly up at you through his lashes before turning back to his task at hand,

And though you knew now was not the time to push it you had to know; it had been the only thing on your mind for days. You needed someone else to talk this through with. “I know the Jedi weren’t what they claimed to be”

Anakin paused, spoon held in mid air as he looked back up at you through his lashes once again, silently asking you to continue.

“They claimed to serve the people of the republic and served only the corrupt senate, resulting in who knows how many deaths” You continued on, finding your gaze drifting around the room as you avoided eye contact at all costs as you said this. “and I understand wanting to leave that behind, even wanting to aid Palpatine in his efforts to bring peace to the galaxy”

You paused here, noting how Anakin had dropped everything before him, his total attention turned to you in this moment only making you squirm on the spot.

“But the dark side?” You exhaled, finally snapping your eyes to his, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact as you said it “we were taught the dark side does nothing but corrupt and destroy. I just don’t understand how you could give in to something like that” with a brief pause you shook your head lightly “the dark side stands in opposition to everything we were brought up to believe”

“And maybe we were brought up incorrectly” he shot back and you could hear the anger still laced in his voice “of course the Jedi order wouldn’t tell us of its benefits should it not want us to use it”

“But-“

And before you could even get the next sentence out Anakin was speaking again. His anger and exasperation boiling over within him, tired of having the same conversation over and over again, tired of beating around the same bush, tired of hiding it from you.

“I did it for you”

You froze, mouth still hanging open as you stared back at him, your body physically recoiling in shock “what?”

“I did it for you” he repeated, his voice growing much softer, much quieter as he said it, anger starting to slip from the words as he grew more serious. “I saw you die in a dream. In several dreams. And if I stepped over to the dark side then I could get enough power to protect you, to stop it from happening”

Your mind was racing, your eyebrows scrunching in thought “but-but you had no way of knowing if your dreams were even right”

“And you think I could risk something like that?” he looked almost sad as he said it, his head hanging ever so slightly as he looked up at you.

And again you were speechless.

Anakin forced himself back to filing his plate, breaking eye contact with you “Look I know you don’t approve of the decision, but it was not one I made lightly”

And at this you looked up at him, giving yourself a deep breath before you responded “I believe you”

He paused at this, looking back up at you for a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between yours for a brief moment before giving what you could only describe as an appreciative nod before tuning back to the food. Continuing his evening in silence.

You did not look up from your book when he entered the room, did not give him any attention, not yet at least. You could feel your resolve starting to crumble against him, too much of the old Anakin peaking through, his arguments starting to make too much sense, the need to do something productive starting to get too strong.

You needed more time to think, more time to decide if this was what you really wanted to do, to decide if you were truly ready to turn your back on everything you believed in mere weeks ago.

Then you heard his footsteps, not the usual steady and even pattern as he crossed the floor, it was much slower now with a distinct note of dragging something.

Your eyes snapped up from your book to see Anakin walking across the room, his back turned to you, a significant limp as he basically dragged his left foot behind him.

You were on your feet immediately, bounding across the room without a thought, picking up Anakin’s arm and ducking your head beneath it, doing your best to take some of his weight off the foot.

Anakin stopped in surprise, his eyebrows drawing together as he looked down at you.

“Come on to the chair” You grunted, helping him across the room towards the table.

“I’m fine” he tried to brush it off, trying to retract his arm though you held onto the wrist, an arm going around his waist to keep him from pushing you off.

“Fine people don’t limp” You countered, finally getting him to one of the chairs at the table, pulling it out and helping him down into it, noting the wince he tried so desperately to hide as he moved.

“Wasn’t limping” he muttered under his breath though you could see the edges of his mouth lift up as he said it, unable to even take himself seriously.

“mhm sure” you muttered, “stay here I think I saw some bandages in the bathroom”

He tried to protest again though he didn’t push it too hard, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

You came back with a first aid kit, cloth, and bowl of water, pulling up a seat in front of Anakin, holding out your hand to him wordlessly.

Anakin stared back at you for a moment, a look of almost amusement on his face before he gave in, placing his hand in yours.

Giving it a small grateful squeeze, you looked down giving yourself a chance for the first time to properly inspect his bloodied knuckles. The skin had clearly broken and though they were red and raw it didn’t look like they were still actively bleeding, just needed cleaning.

Dipping the cloth in the bowl of water you carefully dabbed at the knuckles, feeling yourself mirror Anakin’s grimaces each time you got too close to the tender flesh.

Once the first one was clean you placed it carefully in his lap, reaching for the other and starting the process again, missing the look in Anakin’s eyes as he stared down at you almost in wonder, completely mystified by the moment of tenderness from you he hadn’t felt since order 66, that he wasn’t sure he would feel again since order 66.

“The good news is they just needed to be cleaned” You spoke softly as you worked, Anakin just humming in response, eyes never breaking from your face.

And before he could think to stop himself he reached out with the hand, your work stopping as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You froze when he moved his hand, not moving a muscle as he tucked the hair, your gaze following the hand as he retracted it before going up to his eyes, taking a moment again to fully digest their new color, and for the first time finding yourself admiring it.

Anakin didn’t dare move beneath your gaze, didn’t dare breathe as your eyes bounced back and forth between his, doing nothing that could risk ruining the moment. Until your eyes narrowed slightly at him and he felt himself cringe inwardly at the look, prepping himself for another argument.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening you were out of your seat and leaning towards him, your face closer to his than it had ever been as your hand made its way up to his hair, swiping the curls away from his forehead.

“Maker, Ani your forehead is bleeding” You sighed out and despite everything Anakin felt himself laughing, a genuine smile growing on his face, something he hasn’t done in quite some time.

“It’s been a while since you called me that”

You dipped the cloth again, trying your best to ignore the closeness as you straddled his thigh, his hands naturally gliding to your hips to keep you stable as you pulled the hair back with one hand and dabbed at the wound with the other. “It’s been a while since you’ve deserved it” you teased softly.

“And what did I do to deserve it now?” He asked softly, looking up at you through his lashes with an amused smile.

“Nothing” you hummed, cleaning away the last of the blood on his forehead “I just take pity on the injured”

“I’ll keep that in mind”

You glared down at him “show up like this again and I’ll make sure you live to regret it Skywalker”

At this he chuckled again, and you had to take a moment to enjoy the sound, not realizing how much you had missed it, how much you had missed him.

“Looks like this one will need a bandage” You mused, reaching to the kit on the table to grab one.

“I can’t wear a bandage” he objected mockingly “I’ve got a reputation to uphold”

“Oh yeah nothing says tough like bleeding to death” you teased, placing the bandage over the cut.

And though you tried your best not to you were reluctant to pull away, reluctant to go back to your chair in front of him, reluctant to leave him alone again.

“I can try and get you an icepack for that ankle” you offered though he quickly shook you off.

“It just needs a break” he shook his head “I’m okay”

“Okay” you reluctantly agreed “think you can make it to your room?”

“Yeah” he chuckled softly again before repeating again “I’m okay”

“You can say it all you want but I don’t believe you” you objected, watching in mild amusement as he stood up in his chair, carefully keeping as much weight off his left foot as possible.

“You’re impossible” you said under your breath before standing and tucking your head under his arm to help once again “come on you can stay with me”

He was unable to hide the shock on his face, freezing in place as he looked down at you “are you sure”

“Yeah” you dragged him along, helping him down onto the side of your bed “just stay on your side”

You woke to the knocking on your door as usual, a soft groan escaping from your lips as the brightness of the room struck you for the first time.

The muscles in your legs tensed as you stretched them out, calling out a “come in” in the process. It wasn’t until you tried to stretch your arms over your head, however, that the extra weight around your middle registered.

Then you noticed the warmness against your back, the legs tangled in your own, the feeling of a chest rising and falling against your back.

The door squeaked as it slid open and only then did the reality of your situation fully hit you, swearing under your breath you threw the blankets over the two of you, subconsciously pressing yourself further into Anakin’s chest.

“What are we doing?” The sound of his groggy morning voice spoken directly into your ear, combined with the feeling of his breath against it, sent goosebumps up your arms and a shiver down your spine.

“Hiding” you whispered back.

You tried to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks at the sound of his chuckle, the way you could feel the laugh in his chest against you. “Why?”

“I panicked” you admitted in another whisper, listening closely to the sound of dishes being placed on the table.

And again you could feel the soft laugh rumble up in his chest as you tried to ignore the way his arm squeezed you tighter into him, tried to ignore to feeling of his hot breath against your neck as he laid behind you, tried to ignore that he hadn’t moved a muscle since waking up despite the promise to stay on his side of the bed, tried to ignore how much you enjoyed being in his arms.

Finally, the door sounded again as it slid open, you waited for it to shut again before throwing the blankets off of you, Anakin grunting softly as the light hit his eyes, slowly retracting his arm as you sat up and crawled off the bed.

You needed to think, you needed to make a decision because sitting here in a sort of limbo was becoming all too much. Taking one look out over the balcony you knew exactly what you needed to do.

You were glad for your decision to finally get out of that room. Sure the giant balcony did a good job at providing sunlight and a breeze but it still didn’t compare to just sitting down in the grass beneath a shady tree.

You sat with your legs crossed, hands resting softly on your knees as you cleared your mind, or at least tried too. It was the first time you had tried to meditate since order 66 and so far it had done nothing but made you feel more lost.

Usually your meditation brought you closer to the force, brought you clarity, helped you separate yourself from emotions that had often blocked your connect to the force. Now though the emotions were too strong and after talking to Anakin you were starting to question if this was the way. These were unprecedented times, you were at war, people were dying. Could you still claim some moral high ground if you were willingly cutting yourself off from more power that could allow you to stop all of this suffering?

The sun had set before you without you even noticing, confusion hitting you briefly when you opened your eyes to see the beautiful colors of the sunset over the horizon. And though your meditation had felt like a waste of time you were still glad for it, glad to give yourself time to think things through.

You pushed yourself to your feet and started walking back towards your room, hunger only then starting to hit you reminding you that you were late for dinner.

Not fully paying attention to where you were going your boot got caught on a stray tree branch sending you toppling to the ground face first. And you couldn’t help but laugh, after how this day was going this seemed to fit right in with everything.

Pushing yourself up once again you felt a small itch on your cheek. Wiping at it with your finger you pulled back your hand to find a small amount of blood on your fingers. Because of course you were bleeding now.

Trudging back to your room you took extra care to look at your feet, finally arriving at your door only after the sun had set. You opened the door and were met with Anakin already there, standing looking out over the balcony. His head snapped towards you the second the door opened and for a brief moment all you could see on his face was worry.

You drew your eyebrows together in confusion though his expression changed almost instantly, so quickly you weren’t sure if you had really seen it, visibly relaxing on the spot.

“Where have you been?” He asked striding across the room towards you, speaking again before you could answer “I got back and you weren’t here. I thought-“ then he paused, physically stalling on the spot for a brief moment before hurrying across the room to you, a gentil hand coming under your chin and lifting your face to him, turning it very slightly to get a better view of your cheek.

“What happened?”

You were surprised at how much his voice had hardened, any relief that you were back gone in an instant as he examined the nearly miniscule cut on your cheek.

“It’s nothing” you brushed him off, pulling his hand off of your chin so you could make proper eye contact with him again.

“Who did this to you?” He asked, his gaze dark and hard, his voice several octaves lower than you feel you had ever heard it.

“No one Ani” You tried to calm him, both hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I was outside meditating and I tripped, that is all”

And though he seemed to soften slightly at your words there still seemed to be an edge to him as if he were still unconvinced.

And at that you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the table “I promise. I’m okay. Now come on I’m hungry”

Reluctantly he let himself be pulled, taking the seat next to you as you piled your plate with food gone slightly cold by this point.

Anakin was silent for a moment while you ate, doing nothing but watch you before asking “You still meditate?”

“I haven’t” you admitted “until today”

“How’d it go” he asked softly.

“Not well” you chuckled, dropping your fork, and turning to give him your full attention “Usually it is a way to make me feel better connected to the force and the galaxy as a whole. Today it did nothing but make me feel more disconnected”

“That’s what it feels like for me too” he admitted in a soft voice “least how it feels now”

You mentally stole yourself, prepping for the question you were about to ask, not sure how he was going to respond given your track record thus far “why did you chose to go over to the dark side?”

You could see him physically go on the defensive at your question, his expression hardening slightly as he prepared for the same conversation again prompting you to speak up “I don’t mean to fight. I just want to understand”

He paused, still slightly defensive as he looked down at you, judging if you were telling the truth or not. And you must have passed the test because he quickly relaxed again, an elbow going onto the table as he leaned against it “I told you, to protect you”

“But that can’t be it” you shook your head “to turn your back on everything and everyone like that there had to be more”

And an amused smile grew on his face, shaking his head softly at you before answering “Okay sure there were other things, everything I had said before about why I didn’t trust the jedi council, why they didn’t trust me, but you were the tipping point.” He paused briefly, never breaking eye contact with you before he took a breath and continued “Even if it had turned out to be the wrong decision, for you I would make it a million times over”

You looked down at your hands in your lap for a moment, your next words slipping past your lips before you could think to stop them “I miss you Ani”

His eyebrows drew together, a hand going out to grab one of yours, drawing your eyes back to him “I’m right here, I will always be right here”

And you smiled back sadly at him, giving his hand a small squeeze “Yes but it’s different now”

“Bad different?” he asked, an almost hopeful look sparking in his eyes.

And you let the gaze linger, debating on the spot the question you had been asking yourself since this whole ordeal began “honestly, I’m not so sure anymore”

And though it wasn’t quite the definitive answer he had hoped for it was enough, at least for now. A smile grew on his lips as he squeezed your hand again before letting it go.

Your next question seemed to come from nowhere, “Do you trust Palpatine?”

Anakin looked almost taken aback by the question, his brows drawing in confusion. “Do I trust emperor Palpatine?”

“Yeah” you tried to clarify, your eyes starting to drift away from him as you avoided eye contact “I know you’ve said your goal is to bring peace to the galaxy, do you trust that Palpatine’s goals are the same?”

“I do” he answered immediately and earnestly, the sheer force of his answer pulling your gaze back to his.

“Alright” you nodded, turning back to your food as if that settled it “If you trust him then I do too”

Anakin fell quiet once again, not quite sure what that meant, though not ready to trample over the moment with pedantic questions.

“I want to help” You spoke up, trying to distract yourself with food, not quite sure how Anakin would respond to it.

After a brief pause, he placed a soft hand on your back “are you sure?”

You looked over at him, your fork hovering empty in the air “I was brought up being told the goal was to bring peace and prosperity to the galaxy and was made a Jedi in order to do that. I’ve been thinking about what you’ve said and think that maybe you’re right and it was a lie. Perhaps not from the beginning but certainly by the end. If this is the way to accomplish that goal then so be it, it’s still what I want to do”

A proud smile quickly grew on Anakin’s face though he tried to push it down, tried to take the moment to be serious, to show you he was fine with whatever you decided, “And the dark side of the force?”

An almost smug smile grew on your face in response, finally dropping your fork and turning to face him, eyes dancing happily between his “I was hoping you could teach me?”

“Gladly”

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