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rae-gar-targaryen · 11 months ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To lose yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just another heated night, just another heated dream….

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Jedi weapon.”

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

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

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

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

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

“The chemist from the bazaar,” you reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I … make the intangible tangible.”

“Meaning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How … unlike you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Together you would surely melt…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 6 months ago

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Reunion Interview

Plot: A reunion of our two favorite actors following their crazy lives after the ending of the fan-favorite show: The Mandalorian

Word Count: 4.7K

Pairing: Platonic!Pedro Pascal x Platonic!Reader, Paul Mescal x Reader

Warnings: sweet "father-daughter" moments, laughter giggles, just general fluff

A/N: This is something that's been on my mind for a while and with Gladiator 2 this only fueled it. CONTAINS CLAN OF THREE SPOILERS+WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. Read all of the Clan of Three Series here and also read Where the Wild Things Are here

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“Alright, we are all ready?” The interviewer asks and the cameramen and sound people each give their sounds of agreement and then turn to give the go-ahead to start, “Hello guys it’s a pleasure meeting you two. It must be good to reunite once again. Let’s get a little introduction then go crazy.” He greets the two actors sitting next to each other.

“Hello world I’m Pedro Pascal.” “And I’m Y/n L/n and we’re here with Variety Magazine.” The two of you greet the camera before looking at one another. Pedro gives a fake serious look and you roll your eyes at his antics and he burst into laughter.

“This is what I dealt with for five years oh god how did I do it.” You pinch the bridge of your nose while the older man dies down his chuckles.

“Don’t act all innocent you were in just as much mischief as I was.” Pedro points at you, “I was barely an adult on set you’re supposed to be the responsible one.” It seemed like years had flown by. This TV show was your breakthrough role and allowed your career to skyrocket and it was all thanks to meeting this man.

“Plenty of fun stories from set between the cast and crew.” The interviewer asks you both and Pedro nods enthusiastically.

“The first two seasons this one was attached to my hip. I couldn’t even go for a nap without her waiting outside of my trailer.” He says with a chuckle and you cross your arms.

“You were the only person on set who was childish enough to want to hang out with a high schooler.” You reply sassily and the interviewer has to cover his mouth to hide his laughter while Pedro gasps dramatically while holding his chest. “How dare you call me childish.”

“So Y/n being the youngest person of the cast and growing up on the show how did it affect your character?” You smile smoothing out the wrinkle in your pants.

“Well, I was cast in 2018 a couple of months after Pedro was already cast. It’s funny cause Dave and Jon actually when creating this show my character was never meant to be in this show just an idea thrown around.” You explain, “But they decided why not add another bounty for Mando to take care of, but through the show, they both learn to take care of each other and he becomes a father figure to her.”

“And Pedro how was that playing a role of becoming a father figure and being there in her life?” He asks and Pedro scratches his beard.

“I mean at first not gonna lie I was very nervous. I have worked with younger actors before but this was something different. It wasn’t a child actor that played my son or daughter, or someone who was an adult it was a teenager that I would be working with quite closely. I mean we met for our first table read and you were just this shy girl who was meant to be this sassy badass character. But you blew me and the crew away when we started working together,” Pedro says glancing over at you with a nostalgic look in his eyes, “Both the relationship of our characters had this whole evolution from being adversaries and not even friendly with one another to a bond that ran deeper than blood. I watched her grow up with every episode and season from that timid little girl to this strong intelligent woman before me.” You give a pouting smile before putting your face in your hands.

“I hate you. You’re gonna make me cry.” You sigh making the interviewer and Pedro laugh and wraps his arms around your hunched-over body rocking you side to side. “You’re not the only one teary-eyed,” The interviewer says fanning his eyes and you smile at his attempt to not single you out.

“It’s all good I’m professional.” You steel your face wiping away any trace of sadness from his touching speech. “Yeah, Pedro is an alright guy I guess.” You shrug and Pedro bursts into laughter throwing his head back

“Okay getting back on track. You��ve both been very busy this past year. Season 3 of The Mandalorian has been out and fans are both crying over how good this show is and how you tore us all apart with the ending.” He says and Pedro fake cries remembering the ending.

“Hey, I didn’t want her to leave me. She went to go find herself.” He points his thumb at me and you slap it away, “I didn’t have a decision in it as well. You should have seen him on my final day of filming, so as you know this man over here was gone pretty much all of season three cause he was filming his show with his other kids.” Referencing Bella Ramsey and Nico Parker his two other ‘children’ in The Last Of Us.

“Pedro is just our favorite father figure.” The interviewer says and you nod in agreement. “You have too many children to keep count of.” You say and Pedro gives a sheepish grin.

“I’m just good with kids.” He shrugs.

“But anyways so since he was busy filming for that show we were able to have his amazing stunt doubles, I love you Brendan and Lateef become him. So comes my final scene where I leave and Din is left all sad with Grogu. I think he’s in Canada filming and we block out the scene Dave and Jon tell us we’re all set. That scene feels very close to me 'cause it feels like my goodbye to both the character and to the crew who’s been there since I was eighteen.” You remember the sadness that day on set knowing that this was your final hours with this group.

“So we start rolling and I go through my whole monologue,”

“Which was amazing by the way.” The interviewer butts in and you smile,

“Oh thank you. So I do my thing and who I think is Brendan just breaks down crying before he can say his line I panic and try to improvise to get him back on track but when Dave calls cut I expect it to be Brendan to take off the helmet and apologize but turns out it was this crybaby.” You point your thumb to an embarrassed Pedro.

“Did you expect no waterworks when you were leaving me?” He defends himself, “I didn’t expect you there in the first place! But it was sweet and after many takes because he couldn’t get through his lines without crying we finished my last scenes.”

“I have seen that video from Dave Filoni of the behind-the-scenes of your final day on set.” On the TV beside the interviewer plays a video that shows the set and crew and there are the two of you going through the scene before Jon calls cut.

You remember that take vividly it ended up being the one used for the final cut, the second ‘Cut!’ was shouted the crew broke into cheers. You immediately crouch and break into tears and Pedro removes his helmet pulling you into a bearhug crying into your shoulder you both cry out your characters and each other's final goodbyes on set.

“Give it up to Y/n for her final scene! That’s a wrap for her.” Dave says behind the camera as it moves closer to you and Pedro. Both of you were teary-eyed, Pedro looking like a wreck as you give a cheesy grin through tears and Pedro presses a kiss to your temple before pulling you into another tight hug and that’s when the video ends.

“A very heartfelt video that shows the bond you two have working together over five years.” He says and the two of you smile. Just being a part of the Star Wars franchise had been a dream, growing up watching the original and the prequels as a child and now being involved in this story was game-changing. “Outside of Star Wars, you’ve both been very busy Pedro with Wonder Woman, The Unbearable Weight, hosting SNL, and one of the most popular shows of this year The Last of Us.”

“Stop it you’re making me blush.” Pedro waves his hand acting bashfully, “Don’t forget the three Emmy nominations.” You pipe in and Pedro covers his face at all the compliments headed his way. This man was way too humble.

“You’re not off the hook either you’ve been very busy yourself, you got your nomination for an Emmy for ‘The Mandalorian’, you’ve been in Bullet Train, Across the Spider-Verse, In the Heights, the latest Indiana Jones, and you just wrapped up A Quiet Place: Day One, all while going to school and getting your college degree now finally enjoying adulthood, how is that like.” The interviewer reminds you of the work you’ve done in the past five years.

You laugh twisting the rings that adore your fingers, “I mean high school was easier as I had an on-set teacher and graduated right around in the middle of filming In the Heights. Then for college right as the pandemic hit we all were on lockdown I continued with online courses and once it lifted it was working a schedule of classes and work but all the films I’ve been on have been so accommodating. With the program I took I graduated right after we wrapped Season 3 and before the Press Tour,” Pedro makes a cheering noise as the interviewer laughs.

“I’m assuming you were in attendance for that Pedro?” He questions and Pedro nods enthusiastically, “Of course, I was there for both high school and college! I made a sign and everything.” He and the interviewer laugh as you shake your head.

“Did he?!”

“It was the same big sign with a bunch of horrible pictures of me I think it said, ‘Y/n L/n my unofficial daughter’ with like a bunch of hearts.” You can picture the sign clearly remembering both high school and college walking across the stage to receive your diploma and hearing your friends and family cheer Pedro being one of the loudest.

“Since graduating and now fully dedicating yourself to film how has it been?” The interviewer questions and you give a wide smile.

“I love it so much, while it was stressful balancing work and classes being done is so rewarding. I’ve been able to accept so many new projects and attend so many events I couldn’t before due to classes.” In college, you and your manager had discussed your schedule working around sets while focusing on your education. You decided to strictly do online courses just to make things easier if you do need to travel for work but you’ve been to school events and made friends in college despite your virtual learning.

“Is this the first time you are meeting back up in person since the premiere of Season Three?” He asks and it makes sense with your guys’ busy schedules.

“No surprisingly since we wrapped Season Three there was a time when we didn’t see each other, with Pedro busy with Strange Way of Life, and I had just ended college. Plus I just moved to New York and then got involved with A Quiet Place we didn’t see each other in person until I think it was when you hosted SNL..?” You explain and Pedro perks up.

“Nooo you were there for the premiere of The Last of Us.” He calls you out and your jaw drops you completely forget how busy and how many premieres it all blends. “I would say you kinda stole the show when you appeared on the carpet, none of us were expecting you to be there.” The interviewer says with a laugh.

“That would be an understatement. So it’s the night before the premiere I’m in LA and I think she’s still in New York I remember I called you cause I felt like I was going to die,” Pedro retells and you laugh remembering picking up the phone to see a very nervous Pedro who was pacing in a panic about the premiere for the show.

“You were fine just being a big baby as usual you did the same thing during season one.” He shushes you trying to cover your mouth with his hand but you dodge from it.

“ANYWAYS,” He raises his voice, “Night of the premiere and I feel like I’m going to puke and crap myself all at the same time. But I get there everything is alright I see the rest of the cast happy to see Bellie again all those good things. I’m doing an interview and I think Bella was still on the carpet taking some photos when this roar of cheers came from the beginning. I’m thinking it’s Ashley Johnson or Troy Baker the original Joel and Ellie but I can’t see from down there. So they want me to get some photos with Bella and how I couldn’t tell they were planning something is beyond me.” You and the interviewer start giggling and you see queued up is a video from that night.

“Oh god, you have a video!” Pedro groans covering his face and you nudge him forcing him to watch.

The shouts of fans and photographers as Pedro poses for photos and you can see Bella go over and pull him over as the pair take photos together. Pedro places his hand on his stomach a technique he has used for years to quell his anxiety. The flashing lights and screams of fans only grow louder for a second and he just laughs confused at them. Bella squeezes his arm from his right side and he can sense a presence on his left side and he assumes it’s another cast member.

“Hey P…” A voice whispers in his ear and his eyes widen comically and he whips to turn to face you who has a cheesy smile on your face.

“What the fuck!”

The cameras show Pedro quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you in the air and you laugh loudly before he puts you down and immediately talks rapidly questioning how you are here, how this happened, when you planned this, he had just called you a few hours before. The cameras start yelling at you two to pose and the pair of you pose a big grin spread across Pedro’s face. The video ends as he pulls Bella and Nico making it a group photo of all his on-screen daughters.

You laugh as it freezes at the photo of all of you smiling and laughing.

“I’m still in shock you managed to pull a fast one on me but that truly made my night,” Pedro says.

“It was all Bella and Nico’s planning I didn’t even know how they even managed to keep it from you during all those press tours. I was fully there like four days before the premiere,” You say, and on the screen are photos you had posted following the surprise of you hanging with Bella and Nico, and the rest of the last of us crew. One photo that makes you giggle is you standing before a snoring Pedro on a couch in a green room that you had Bella take for you when you snuck to watch their interviews.

“Speaking of Bella and Nico. I would say you including Sophie Thatcher blew up the internet in the ‘Children of Pedro’ interview,” The interviewer mentions and you smile and a thumbnail of the interview with you and these amazing actors and actresses.

“Oh, that interview was so much fun. It was the first time I met Bella and Nico as I worked alongside Sophie during Boba Fett and we all had this instant chemistry. Following that we all became good friends and we try to hang out when any of us are in town or plan stuff.” You explain and you see Pedro has a warm smile happy to see all the people he cares deeply for are friends, “Pedro’s glad all his children aren’t fighting.” You smirk and both the interviewer and Pedro laugh at your comment.

“I’m glad my home has some form of order,” Pedro bounces off your quip and the interviewer looks over some of his notes.

“Alright, I have some fan questions sent in for the both of you to answer if that’s alright.” He asks as both you and Pedro take sips from your drinks.

“Sounds great!” “Hit me with them.”

The interviewer nods excitedly looking over at you, “Alright Y/n we’ll start with you. This is a question from @pedroswife1975 ‘I was just as gagged at Pedro’s SNL performance I wanted to know if you had any clue of Pedro’s plans or did you go in just as blind as everyone else.’.” The screen shows a college work on Pedro’s SNL night.

“Oh, that was a crazy night, I was so excited to hear he was hosting SNL cause I was used to this guy’s craziness,” You say pointing a thumb at the older man, “I didn’t realize he was dropping hints or asking for my opinion like the fan cam skit he asked me about how I felt about like fan edits. To those watching I love them so much and genuinely lay in bed kicking my legs seeing the crazy shit yall make of me or people I know. Also, that fucking voice in the memory lost one.” Pedro bursts into laughter.

“What voice? This is my normal talking voice.” He flawlessly does the valley girl's voice that makes you speak through giggles.

“I think it was when he was in New York to rehearse for SNL and we’ve been meeting up and hanging out and we were at this cafe and he slips into this voice and I literally couldn’t help giggling,” You say, “So when I go to the taping I had to cover my mouth to stop from giggling everyone second.”

“It’s an amazing voice though.” The interviewer says in the valley girl accent, “Oh totally it’s completely amazingggg.” You respond by going heavy on the vocal fry unable to burst into a fit of giggles alongside Pedro.

“Okay, next question for Pedro. This is from @y/nssoulmate ‘I’m dying to know cause those Instagram photos were insane, but how crazy was Y/n’s 21st birthday?! Please I’m dying to know I’ll give my first child to know!!’.” You immediately groan covering your face and the pair laugh. On the screen appears a photo of your twenty-first birthday it’s partially blurry but it’s of you looking plastered. A ‘21’ crown halfway on your frizzy hair from the humidity of Pedro’s apartment that he transformed into a club vibe, a drunk grin on your face with an arm around Pedro’s shoulder the other holding a martini. Pedro is practically holding you up looking drunk as well as a beer in his free hand.

Pedro chuckles rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m going to be so honest I don’t remember much of that night. Someone thought it was a good idea to try and outdrink each other.”

“Hey! I was given full rein since it was my birthday. You were meant to be the responsible adult. Luckily Sarah Paulson and Oscar Issac were the actual adults that night,” You defend yourself. Truly that night was a blur but it was such a fun night. Your friends had taken you out for breakfast and a full day of celebration before you received a text from Pedro to go to his apartment to get his gift that he accidentally shipped to his place. Turns out it was a surprise and he was able to come back from shooting for The Last of Us and bring along your close friends and family.

“For my soulmate unfortunately neither Pedro nor I remember that night but trust from what those there that night it was the best birthday someone could through for me. Though I did avoid alcohol for like a month.” You say and Pedro groans remembering the hangout you both suffered the following day.

“Okay question for you Ms. Partyer. @imstillsadfromkazsdeath,” You laugh at hearing from the person’s social handle, “Their question is with news of both Wicked which you worked alongside Director John Chu during In the Heights, and Gladiator 2 has your co-star, Joseph Quinn, your father-figure Pedro, and your friend Paul Mescal coming out at the same time. Which are you seeing first Wicked or Gladiator 2?” On the screen, it shows a college of you with each respective person mentioned. A photo of you nineteen on set in New York City with John Chu and Lin Manuel Miranda, a picture of you and Pedro during premiere of season 3 of Mandalorian, a picture of you and Joseph Quinn on the set of A Quiet Place both dusty and covered in fake blood, and finally a picture of you and Paul Mescal at the this recent Met Gala a candid photo of inside the event talking during dinner.

“One more of a sidebar, I’m still sad about Kaz’s death if I could’ve changed it I would’ve both Freddy and I were so bummed filming those scenes. But for your question fuck you.” You answer so seriously that both Pedro and the interviewer burst into laughter.

“Seriously fuck you for making me choose. One I love John Chu and I am so excited to see Wicked I’ve been obsessed with it since a kid and I saw Idina and Kristin on Broadway so I need to see what Cynthia and Ariana do with this. But I also love all three guys and want to support them too 'cause I also love Gladiator and I know my father would be super betrayed since it’s our go-to movie to watch.” You were in such a rough spot.

“Can I clone myself?” You ask and both Pedro and the interviewer shake their head which makes you let out a frustrated groan, “You know what? I’ll see whatever movie I get invited to first. This leaves me not to choose it’s in the hands of John and the boys so they need to battle it out.”

“Wow, seriously such a cop-out,” Pedro whines and you shrug, “You can’t force me to decide if I don’t have the choice.”

“Very well played. Alright, our final question for Pedro from @pedroiszaddyfr they ask ‘Hey Pedro if I get chosen I’m absolutely in love with you and just want you to know that.”

“Aw, I love you too,” Pedro replies and the interviewer continues.

“So my question is in The Last of Us after season 1 in the books ‘The Last of Us: Where the Wild Things Are’ we do get introduced to Joel’s second biological daughter is there any potential plans to include them in the show making them canon since they aren’t in Part 2 and if so. Please for the love of all these mighty get Y/n to play your daughter she would kill the role!” The interviewer chuckles at the question and you look over at Pedro who thinks over the question.

“Well as I’m sure many of you do know in the books we do get an extremely interesting character that changes and adds more depth to the characters of the game. I’d love them to add her into the show and we see the change in Joel and Ellie during the period before season two. I mean I’d be so down for Y/n to be a part of this but that’s in the hands of Craig and Neil. Unless you know something I don’t?” Pedro turns to look at you and you raise your hands shaking your head.

“I’m just as clueless as you. But I would love to be a part of the show. I’ve read the book and she truly is such an interesting character. I mean that opening fight scene in the cabin before Joel and Tommy pull up is so fucking cool. But yeah Craig and Neil hit me up before Pedro starts begging and whining.” You say and a bark of laughter comes from the older man.

“Well thank you both so much for taking the time and talking about your lives and this amazing reunion. Is this the last you too will see each other until the next reunion?” The interviewer says.

“Nope! This girl can’t get rid of me now that we’re both back in New York for the time being.” Pedro says wrapping an arm around your shoulder and resting his head on top of yours.

“If anyone wants to take this old man off my hand you can have him,” You comment and Pedro gasps pushing you away from him as you giggle, “I’m kidding I love him and he’s amazing but yeah we got tickets for Beyonce coming up so I am very excited while I need this one to listen to her entire discography before we go,” You point your thumb at him and he raises his hand.

“Hey, I got a decent chunk under my belt. Plus I’ve known Beyonce longer than you.” Pedro says and the pair of you being bickering having that be the outro of the interview.

The pair of you collect your items from your dressing rooms before heading outside. Pedro has his arm wrapped around your shoulder to make sure you don’t bump into anything your gaze glued to your phone. The cool New York breeze sends chills down your spine as you scroll through Instagram. A buzz from your phone a text saying ‘Look up’ and when you look up you see Paul standing a few feet away in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt a trench coat over it with a cap and glasses.

“Paul!” You smile lowering your phone and pulling away from Pedro to go over to Paul who welcomes you in his arms, “I thought we were gonna meet at dinner?”

He shrugs a half grin on his face, “Thought I surprise you and then we can head together. What’s up Pedro” You smile at his thoughtfulness. Pedro accepts his handshake.

“Good to see you Paul, how’s the city treating you?” He asks knowing that Paul came here just a few days ago from London when you mentioned it.

“Good real good. You know how the city usually is but luckily I have a good guide,” Paul says squeezing your shoulder and you flush shying away. Pedro smiles glad to see you are happy as the pair of you look at each other with loving looks.

“Well, I’ll leave you both be to enjoy the rest of your night. I got plans to meet with Sarah and Lux soon,” He says giving Paul a handshake before you pull away and give Pedro a big hug which he equally reciprocates.

“Send Sarah and Lux my regards.” You say and Pedro nods, “Lux wants to see you soon so be sure to reach out to her.”

“I will and don’t forget we have drinks this Friday,” You say pointing your finger at him and he nods while pulling out his headphones.

“Yes, mom…” He rolls his eyes before starting to walk away sending a final wave, “Have a good night!”

“Bye Pedro.” “Bye P I love you!” You shout so he can hear over his headphones.

“Love you too kid!” He says blowing you a kiss before disappearing within the crowd. You bring your attention back to Paul who tucks a stray strand behind your ear.

“What are you looking at? Is something on my face?” You ask trying to reach for your face but he stops you holding your hand and giving a squeeze.

“I’m just looking at you, a chuisle mo chroí. You’re just beautiful is all.” He says slipping to Irish so easily it sends a shiver down your spine at his accent.

“Stop being so cheesy,” Your face flushes hot as you shove him away starting in the direction of the subway station. You hear him run up after you easily wrapping his arm around your waist before placing a kiss on your lips which you eagerly accept your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. Pulling away a bit, he gives a familiar smirk that makes you grin as you fully step back taking hand and the pair make their way to your plans.

“You’re such a sap.”

“A sap for you my love~”

“Shut up!”

a/n: y'all I'm alive I swear these finals have truly been killing me and TRUST, any paused work will be coming back I swear on my unborn child.

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angelseraphines · 2 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ let me love you like a woman ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ obi-wan kenobi x tatooine!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place following the events of revenge of the sith, where obi-wan kenobi is in exile on tatooine. i hope you enjoy reading! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ the twins suns burned high, an oppressive white orb and molten star hanging in a sky bleached of all color, and the scorching sand outside your family’s shop shimmered akin to heated glass. mos espa breathed slow in the midday lull, its usual clamor hushed beneath the burden of the heat. only the fools or the desperate braved the streets now, those with credits to chase, or errands to run, or no home worth hiding in.

˚ ༘♡ you were behind the counter alone, the air inside dry but not quite suffocating, cooled just enough by the old condenser hissing gently in the corner. your mother had gone to barter for oils at the distillery two stalls down, and the shop, lined with bolts of cloth, spools of thread, sun-bleached leather satchels and imported moisture filters, rested in your care for the day.

˚ ༘♡ you wore ivory-white, the fabric was gauzy, sheer in the sleeves and hem, trimmed with pale gold thread and small mother-of-pearl beads that clicked when you moved. the heat was no match for the thin layers, and you relished the lightness, how it made you feel almost unreal, like some desert mirage wafting through your family’s simple walls. and you knew how you looked. it wasn’t vanity, it was fact. your skin gleamed in the sun, your hair loose, a sheen of sweat catching along your collarbone where it dipped into your dress. you knew what the boys in the square whispered when they saw you. you simply didn’t care.

˚ ༘♡ but him. he was different.

˚ ༘♡ you knew the shape of him before you saw it. of middling height, cloaked in rough robes that hadn’t been tailored in years, boots worn to the sole. he moved like a man who did not want to be perceived, who took no pride in posture, who walked with a quietness that only came from someone who had spent too long alone.

˚ ༘♡ the old wooden chime rattled as the door creaked open, and when you looked up from the counter, there he was. kenobi.

˚ ༘♡ you had only ever heard him addressed like that, “mr. kenobi,” when your father was being formal, or just “kenobi,” in the clipped, disinterested tones of market vendors who didn’t care much for names unless they owed you money. no one knew much about him. he lived past the edge of the dune sea, near the cliffs, in one of the carved-out stone huts that had belonged to the miners before the sands took them. he kept to himself. came down once or twice a month, sometimes less. bought little, said even less. no family, no friends, no history anyone could confirm. only a man with tired eyes and sun-leathered skin, who worked part-time at the meat station carving carcasses with a precision that never quite fit the rest of his appearance.

˚ ༘♡ “kenobi,” you said with a soft smile, brushing the wisps of your hair back and standing straighter. not too formal. not too familiar. merely enough to catch his eye.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze lifted slowly. beneath the shadow of his hood, his face was the same as always, quiet, drawn, unreadable. but something in the eyes flickered. pale blue. duller than they used to be, you imagined, but still sharp beneath the troubles within. not unkind. just… unreachable.

˚ ༘♡ “miss,” he said, voice low. dry, like gravel turned over in a hand. he nodded once in greeting, then looked to the shelves.

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t speak immediately. didn’t rush him. you’d learned, over the past year or so, when he’d happen to appear, that he hated questions. hated chatter. but he never left without a word if you were the one behind the counter. there was something in your presence, something in your voice, or your serenity, or perhaps just your curiosity, that he never quite refused.

˚ ༘♡ “looking for anything in particular?” you asked, letting the hem of your sleeve drift along the counter’s edge. the fabric glimmered softly in the light.

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, and then, with a slight shift of his hand, pulled a list from his pocket. creased. small. you stepped forward to take it, brushing your fingers over his as you did, feigning casualness. his hand jerked slightly at the contact, not violent, but startled. like he hadn’t expected warmth.

˚ ༘♡ you pretended not to notice.

˚ ༘♡ the list was simple. thread. canisters for water storage. a replacement coil for a condenser unit. nothing lavish. nothing even remotely indulgent. all of it mundane, all of it necessary. the kind of list made by someone who spent most of his days thinking only about survival.

˚ ༘♡ you glanced at it, then back at him. “we’ve got most of this. thread’s in the back, though. i’ll have to grab it for you.”

˚ ༘♡ he nodded again. “thank you.”

˚ ༘♡ no smile. no change in his expression. but he was still watching you, and that was enough to provoke something in your heart.

˚ ༘♡ you moved through the curtains behind the counter and into the backroom, biting your lip, the heat following you like a second skin. he was handsome, even if the desert had worn him down. handsome in a way that wasn’t youthful or polished, but weary. carved from stone. a man who had suffered something he would never speak of aloud. and yet… you couldn’t help it. every time he came in, something in you stirred like a story waiting to be told.

˚ ༘♡ you returned with the thread, letting the beads on your sleeves chime faintly as you walked. “this’ll hold for repairs,” you said, setting the spool down gently before him. “strong, too. doesn’t fray.”

˚ ༘♡ he picked it up, turned it once in his hand. “that’ll do.”

˚ ༘♡ he did not compliment you. he did not flirt, or even linger. but when your eyes met his again, there was something behind them. recognition. a kind of restrained gentleness. and beneath that, you sensed it again, the weight of something vast and terrible. the sorrow of a man who had lost everything but was alive enough to feel the ache.

˚ ༘♡ “how’s the station?” you asked, more softly this time.

˚ ༘♡ “untroubled.”

˚ ༘♡ you veered your head. “you don’t like questions, do you?”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened. then, after a pause, “no.”

˚ ༘♡ you smiled at that. “i’ll remember that.”

˚ ༘♡ and for the briefest moment, his gaze did not look away. it stayed on yours, searching, tired, cautious. but not cold.

˚ ༘♡ you gave him the total. he paid in imperial credits, all properly counted. he did not make excuses or offer barter, simply accepted the number as it was. and when he turned to leave, you let your voice follow him, softer than before.

˚ ༘♡ “come back sooner next time, sir. i get bored with the scorching sand and uncivilized creatures as company.”

˚ ༘♡ he paused at the door. the light framed him in gold. he did not look back.

˚ ༘♡ yet you saw it, the barest incline of his head. like acknowledgment. like thanks.

˚ ༘♡ and then he was gone.

˚ ༘♡ you waited five full minutes.

˚ ༘♡ five minutes of pretending to rearrange the baskets. five minutes of glancing at the empty street beyond the shutters. five minutes of pretending you were not already gathering your courage like folds of your sheer skirt, not already bracing yourself for something unwise. no one had come by. the heat still reigned. your mother was still at the distillery, your father still at the hangar. and kenobi, he was already disappearing into the blinding light beyond the plaza, heading out toward the low hills of sand that marked the beginning of nowhere.

˚ ༘♡ so you did something reckless.

˚ ༘♡ you flipped the “closed” sign, ducked beneath the counter, and slipped out the side door. you didn’t lock it. you didn’t leave a note. you simply went.

˚ ༘♡ sand tugged at your slippers, the wind catching at the hem of your gauzy dress, turning it into streamers of white and gold behind you. your shawl fluttered loosely over your shoulders as you picked your way through the narrow alley behind the shop and emerged into the outskirts of mos espa. no one saw. or if they did, no one cared. maybe they thought you were off to visit a friend. or chasing someone. which, in a way, was true.

˚ ༘♡ kenobi was far ahead by then, a lone figure drifting over the dunes, headed away from the town like a ghost returning to its tomb. he moved steadily, not fast, not slow, just with the practiced gait of someone who had made this journey too many times to count. he didn’t notice you.

˚ ༘♡ you followed at a distance, heart loud in your chest, half expecting him to turn around at any moment and catch you in the act. but he never did. he just kept walking. farther and farther from civilization, from stalls and shouting and spice-sellers and moisture farmers, from everything that tied you to the world you knew.

˚ ༘♡ you had always wondered what he did out here. the hermit beyond the dune sea, they called him. stay away, your parents had said. men like that don’t come to town unless they need something. and you don’t want to know what they’ve done to end up that way.

˚ ༘♡ but you had wanted to know. desperately.

˚ ༘♡ the ground rose gently beneath your feet as you climbed the low ridge where he had gone. by now, the market was a distant haze. here, the world was empty and gold, a vast stretch of sand and sky. the atmosphere was thick. only the wind moved.

˚ ༘♡ and then you saw him.

˚ ༘♡ he was just the crest, sitting beside a cluster of jagged rock formations, his cloak drawn around him, not to guard from cold, but perhaps to guard from memory. his shoulders were hunched forward slightly, his hands clasped. his face was turned away from the sun, but you could see the line of his jaw, the vague downward curve of his mouth. and for the first time, you saw not just mystery, not merely enigmatic allure or rugged charm.

˚ ༘♡ you saw sorrow.

˚ ༘♡ not simple grief. devastation. the kind of sadness that hollowed out the soul. that silenced men. that turned warriors into wraiths.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t cry. he didn’t move. but the look on his face…

˚ ༘♡ something ached in you.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he was listening to something no one else could hear. like he was waiting for a voice that would never come. the wind stirred the edges of his cloak and rustled his uncut, auburn hair, but he remained still. so still, you almost believed he was made of stone.

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t step closer. you stayed hidden behind the rocks, breath caught in your throat, unsure what you had expected but knowing it hadn’t been this.

˚ ༘♡ you thought you’d find answers.

˚ ༘♡ you found a man grieving something far too large to speak aloud.

˚ ༘♡ and it made your heart twist, not out of pity, but something else. the same thing you’d felt when he touched your hand in the shop. the same thing you felt whenever his eyes flicked over your face, too quickly to be anything but deliberate.

˚ ༘♡ you whispered, barely loud enough for the wind to carry.

˚ ༘♡ “…what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ but he didn’t hear. or maybe he did, and he just had nothing left to say.

˚ ༘♡ you stayed there, beneath the twin suns, watching the man the galaxy had long since forgotten.

˚ ༘♡ and for the first time, you understood why he lived alone. why he spoke so little. why your parents had warned you away.

˚ ༘♡ not because he was dangerous.

˚ ༘♡ but because he was broken. and maybe he was beyond repair, too far gone in desolation to be saved.

˚ ༘♡ and yet, even now, especially now, something in you ached to try.

˚ ༘♡ you weren’t even trying to get closer. not really. you only meant to shift your footing, to find a better place to crouch, to watch without being seen, to satisfy the reckless ache in your chest without pushing your luck.

˚ ༘♡ but the sand beneath the ridge was loose. your slipper grated against the coarse sand. your ankle contorted. and before you could catch yourself, the ground rushed up fast and sharp beneath you.

˚ ༘♡ you landed hard on the side of your knee, right against an outcrop of jagged rock hidden beneath the dune’s surface. pain seared red-hot through your leg, a tearing, ugly kind of pain that wasn’t just a scrape, it dug in, sharp enough to punch the breath from your lungs and make your vision bloom black around the edges.

˚ ༘♡ you gasped, and then you cried out. it wasn’t a scream, a sound ripped straight from your throat, raw and involuntary and sharp with pain.

˚ ༘♡ you clutched your leg, hand stained crimson against blood already seeping through the fabric. the gash was deep, slashing through the muscle in a way that made your stomach churn. the kind of wound that wasn’t going to clot on its own.

˚ ༘♡ and before you could even attempt to rise, before you could hide the stupid, childish mistake you’d just made, you heard it.

˚ ༘♡ footsteps. brisk. precise. heavy against the sand.

˚ ༘♡ you looked up, expecting fury. expecting a storm.

˚ ༘♡ you found him.

˚ ༘♡ kenobi stood over you, robes whipping in the wind, cerulean eyes fixed on yours with something unreadable in their pale depths. not anger. not exactly. something taut. something pulled tight between alarm and discretion.

˚ ༘♡ you opened your mouth to explain, to apologize, to say anything.

˚ ༘♡ but then he knelt.

˚ ༘♡ “let me see it,” he said, already pulling a fold of his outer robe free, already reaching for your injured leg.

˚ ༘♡ you blinked, stunned.

˚ ༘♡ “what…?”

˚ ༘♡ “you’re bleeding,” he said flatly. not unkindly. focused. “deeply.”

˚ ༘♡ “i didn’t mean to… i was only trying to…” you winced, teeth clenched as his fingers found the edge of the torn fabric. “i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t have followed you, i wanted…”

˚ ༘♡ “stop talking.” it wasn’t cruel. it was the voice of a man who had seen worse than this. much worse. his hands were steady, rough-palmed but gentle, and his brow furrowed with concentration as he pressed the fabric to the wound. “you’re going into shock. breathe slowly.”

˚ ༘♡ you did. because something about the way he said it left no room for refusal.

˚ ༘♡ the blood was soaking fast, and you saw the frown that flickered across his face. you weren’t imagining the tension in his shoulders, the way he exhaled through his nose, as if trying to smother the heat beneath his skin.

˚ ༘♡ “does it hurt here?” he asked, fingers trailing just above the torn edge. your leg jerked involuntarily.

˚ ༘♡ “yes,” you hissed. “sorry… yes.”

˚ ༘♡ “don’t apologize.” his voice was soothing now. almost soft. “try and relax.”

˚ ༘♡ he tore another strip of cloth from his robe. his fingers worked fast, binding it tight with an efficiency that betrayed a history you didn’t know, of medpacs and battlefield wounds and makeshift triage in places far from here. he tied it off. it wasn’t pretty. but it was secure.

˚ ༘♡ you watched him as he leaned back, hands braced beside your leg, his head angled only narrowly.

˚ ༘♡ his hair was tangled with sweat. his jaw unshaven. and yet there was something beautiful about the way he looked at you in that instance, not as a burden. not as a foolish girl who trespassed where she didn’t belong. but as a person. as someone in pain. as someone he wanted to help.

˚ ༘♡ “…you’re not angry?” you asked, your voice barely above the wind.

˚ ༘♡ he blinked. the corners of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. more like surprise.

˚ ༘♡ “no,” he said, finally. “but you shouldn’t have followed me.”

˚ ༘♡ “i know.”

˚ ༘♡ “this isn’t a place for…”

“for what?” your eyes held his. “for stupid girls who ask too many questions?”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw flexed.

˚ ༘♡ “for people who haven’t seen war,” he said, after a long pause. “for people who still think the world is kind.”

˚ ༘♡ the words landed more forceful than you expected. but you didn’t look away.

˚ ༘♡ “i don’t think the world is kind,” you said.

˚ ༘♡ his gaze dipped. to your wound. to the vermillion blood leaking between the translucent fabric. to your dress, white and gilded, stained now with desert dust and red.

˚ ༘♡ “…you should go home,” he said. “once you can walk.”

˚ ༘♡ but he didn’t move. neither did you.

˚ ༘♡ you were too close now. his hands hovered near your leg. his knee brushed yours through the fabric. and the wind had grown quieter, the sun slanting low, washing him in the rays of the sun akin to the ruins of a statue no one had dared to bury.

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed, heart suddenly loud.

˚ ༘♡ “you live out here all alone,” you said, barely a whisper. “why?”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes didn’t meet yours. not yet. but the silence between you bent beneath the weight of the question.

˚ ༘♡ and for the first time, you saw it again, the sorrow. raw and endless. buried beneath a mask of duty. something sacred that had been shattered and never remade.

˚ ༘♡ “because i have to,” he said.

˚ ༘♡ and you understood, even if you didn’t know why.

˚ ༘♡ nonetheless, you said delicately, “you don’t have to be alone forever.”

˚ ༘♡ and this time, when his eyes locked onto yours, they stayed.

˚ ༘♡ you sat beneath the long shadow of the ridge, your leg bound in rough cloth and streaked with red, the sting of it slowly dulling into something hot and deep. the pain was real, but it had altered, muted by the ache that now pierced somewhere else entirely. somewhere beneath your ribs.

˚ ༘♡ kenobi hadn’t spoken again. not after he’d wrapped your leg. not after he’d said you should go. he had simply sat beside you, silent and distant, the wind tousling his hair as if to remind you how far from home you’d come. his body was still, posture controlled, but his thoughts, his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. you could feel it, heavy in the air between you. he was somewhere else entirely. somewhere you couldn’t reach.

˚ ༘♡ and yet, you tried.

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t have to be so distant,” you murmured finally, the words fragile in the vast quiet of the desert. “i know you didn’t ask me to follow you. i know it was stupid. but i’m not sorry.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t turn to face you. but his hands, those steady, calloused hands, curled somewhat in his lap.

˚ ༘♡ you looked down at your leg, at the blood soaking through his robe’s fabric. “i just wanted to know why you always look so… so sad. why you never talk to anyone. why you disappear.”

˚ ༘♡ kenobi gave no answer.

˚ ༘♡ “but now i see it’s more than that,” you said, your voice straining with emotion you didn’t fully understand. “you look like someone who’s been through something no one else could survive.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders grew rigid.

˚ ༘♡ and finally, he turned. not quickly. not sharply. but slowly, as though it pained him to meet your gaze.

˚ ༘♡ when he did, you almost wished he hadn’t. because the misery in his expression was unbearable. not cruel. not angry. but filled with something older than grief. remorse. resolve. restraint. something carved into the marrow of a man who had once been something else, someone else, and had buried that self in the sand years ago.

˚ ༘♡ “you shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “you don’t understand what you’re walking into.”

˚ ༘♡ “then help me understand,” you said. “i’m not afraid of you.”

˚ ༘♡ “you should be.”

˚ ༘♡ “why?” your voice cracked. “you’re not like the others. not like the ones who leer at me in the market, or spit at the sand because i won’t smile for them. they scare me. but you…”

˚ ༘♡ he cut you off, gently. “i am not what you think i am.”

˚ ༘♡ “you’re kind. and you didn’t have to be. not to me.”

˚ ༘♡ “that doesn’t make me good.”

˚ ༘♡ “then tell me what does.” your voice caught as your fingers clutched your gown, crumpling the sheer fabric where it pooled around your knee. “tell me why you live out here like a ghost. why everyone calls you the hermit. why you look at the horizon like you’re waiting to die.”

˚ ༘♡ he flinched. it was slight. but it was there.

˚ ༘♡ you softened then. not out of pity. out of wanting. wanting to be let in. wanting him to let himself speak. just once.

˚ ༘♡ but instead, he exhaled, long and slow, and stood. his shadow fell over you. he looked taller when he did. broader. older.

˚ ༘♡ more like a myth than a man.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re young,” he said, not unkindly. “you see what you want to see. you believe that there’s good in everyone. you think… because i helped you, that it means something.”

˚ ༘♡ you looked up at him, chin lifted, defiant even through the pain.

˚ ༘♡ “it does mean something.”

˚ ༘♡ his expression ebbed scarcely. not from anger. from something closer to sorrow.

˚ ༘♡ “i can’t give you the answers you’re looking for,” he said. “there are things i’ve done, things i’ve seen, that no one should have to carry. i’ve buried people i loved. failed people who depended on me. i’ve lived through the fall of something that once stood for peace, and watched it crumble into war and ruin. and every day since then, i’ve woken up alone. because that is what i deserve.”

˚ ༘♡ the solemnity that followed was deafening.

˚ ༘♡ you blinked hard, your throat tightening.

˚ ༘♡ “that’s not true.”

˚ ༘♡ “you don’t know me.”

˚ ༘♡ “i see you.”

˚ ༘♡ “no,” he said, quieter now. “you see a man who held your hand when you were bleeding. you see someone who speaks warmly because he’s forgotten how to shout. but that doesn’t make me righteous. it makes me tired.”

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed, heart stinging in a way your knee didn’t.

˚ ༘♡ “i still trust you, kenobi.”

˚ ༘♡ he closed his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ the wind moved between you again. the sand danced in lazy spirals around his boots. and when he opened them, he looked at you, not as a stranger, not as a young girl , but as someone he wished had never stepped into his life. not because he didn’t want you there.

˚ ༘♡ but because he couldn’t bear it.

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll take you back,” he said. “when your leg stops bleeding.”

˚ ༘♡ you started to nod, but he kept speaking.

˚ ༘♡ and then,” he said, voice stripped of everything but control, “you’ll forget me.”

˚ ༘♡ your breath caught.

˚ ༘♡ “kenobi…”

˚ ༘♡ “you’ll go home. you’ll tell your mother you slipped on a rock. you’ll forget my face. you’ll forget this place. and the next time someone says my name in town, you won’t look up.”

˚ ༘♡ you shook your head slowly, eyes glassy.

˚ ༘♡ “i can’t…”

˚ ༘♡ “you must.” his voice didn’t rise, but it grew sharper. not callous, never callous, but firm, like he was building a wall between you and him brick by brick, and hating himself for every one. “you deserve to be happy. to care for someone who isn’t carrying the end of the galaxy in his guilt and shame.”

˚ ༘♡ you didn’t respond. couldn’t. not with words.

˚ ༘♡ so you just looked at him, body trembling, pain blooming somewhere far deeper than the wound in your knee.

˚ ༘♡ and he looked at you, too.

˚ ༘♡ as though he wanted to remember you.

˚ ༘♡ just once.

˚ ༘♡ before he had to let you go.

a/n: this is my official trial to be the kenobi fanfiction writer for tumblr!! please let me know if you have anymore requests for obi-wan kenobi, he is definitely my favorite star wars character!!! 🤍

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starry-crossing-zone · 5 months ago

Text

Crash and Fall - Rex

Summary: Rex won't give up hope that his Jedi lover is alive after the Jedi Purge. Length: 3.7k Warnings: Mentions of Jedi Purge; Angst; Longing; Clone Rebellion; Special Guest Stars; Mentions of Pregnancy

Rex stood beside the Y Wing as Ahsoka took a moment with his fallen brothers. He typed away at the datapad, attempting to send a long-range message. Across the galaxy, his brothers were murdering the Jedi against their will. And he was frantically trying to get in contact with one specific Jedi so that she did not become the next victim.

It might have been too late already to warn her, but Rex needed to try. He refused to accept defeat.

When the comm failed to go through again, Rex couldn’t help the burst of emotion. Driving his fist onto the top of the Y Wing and tossing the datapad away angrily, he slumped into a crouch. Steadying himself with one hand and resting the other against his face, he didn’t fight the tears.

Ahsoka slowly walked over to him and gave him a moment to gather himself, giving him the space to grieve. Although they had never had a frank conversation about it, Ahsoka understood enough to know why Rex’s inability to get a message out caused him to collapse. Rex slowly lowered his hand from his face and started to stand up again.

“No luck,” Rex replied quietly.

“Where was she stationed last?” Ahsoka asked softly.

“More than halfway across the galaxy,” Rex stated, closing his eyes with despair.

They were too far away to help her. It would take them days to reach her. And he wasn’t even sure if that was her actual last location. Plans changed in a moment in the GAR. It was a start, but it was also more than likely swarmed with his brothers, who would try to murder them the moment that they arrived on the scene.

“There’s still hope, Rex,” Ahsoka replied quietly. “There’s still a chance.”

Rex nodded slowly, not trusting his words, before he turned to the Y Wing again. He climbed into the pilot’s seat and input coordinates to a safe location before starting the take off procedure. And trying to block the images of his beloved with blaster holes in her chest from his mind.

*~*~*~*

Washa was not a heavily populated planet. It was far from the major space lanes and had remained neutral during the war because there was nothing on the planet worth fighting over. It was mostly farmers and traders. No one of importance. Just like the Jedi were of no importance anymore. It was no wonder she fit in so well.

“Two please,” she told the vender, holding out the credits.

“Price just went up actually,” he remarked, turning his two noses up at her. “You need five more.”

She withdrew her hand and looked at the credits. Letting out a sigh, she stowed some of the credits back in her pocket and turned back to the greedy vender.

“Just one then.”

Taking her purchase, she stowed it in her bag and kept walking. She bought rations and some water before making the walk back to the small hut that she now called home. It would have to do, for her true home was gone. Destroyed. Forever. Sitting down, she crossed her legs and tried to meditate.

It had been a month since her own men turned against her. Men that she fought beside for years, thought she knew, men that she was prepared to die with. They raised their blasters at her and tried to kill her. And they had nearly succeeded too.

The scars on her back burned at the painful memory and she forced herself to take a breath. Pushing past the pain that lingered, she tried to connect with the Force again. Resting her hands with her palms upwards, she took a deep breath.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.”

After she managed to escape the assault and effectively faked her own death, she had all but severed her connection to the Force. To reach out and feel the gaping, open wound quickly overwhelmed her and she had withdrawn into herself to survive.

“I am one with the Force and the Force is—”

She tensed as the nightmares that plagued her while she slept crept into the daylight. Ones that involved a clone in blue-painted armor raising his blasters at her. She shook her head, trying to banish the images, swearing to herself that Rex would never hurt her. She trusted him with her life. She cared for him well beyond the considerations of her culture.

But she trusted Sinker too. And Boost. And Comet. And they had all fired on her just the same.

And when it became too much, as it had countless times before, she broke down, holding her head in her hands as she struggled to hold onto her sanity.

*~*~*~*

“But we managed to save the padawan,” Hunter stated, causing Rex to pick his head up.

“Have you run into any Jedi since?” he asked, sounding more alert.

“No, none.”

Rex nodded slowly, trying to mask his disappointment. He spun his glass around on the bar top, letting his thoughts drift for a moment, before he focused back on the present. Echo, however, noticed the change in his brother.

“You’re looking for her?” Echo asked Rex knowingly. Rex turned to Echo and nodded slowly. “Tech can look in the Imperial database for you.”

“Already checked. Read the report. She’s . . .”

Rex trailed off, being very careful with his words. He knew what the report said. He’d practically memorized it at this point. But he also knew that these reports weren’t always accurate. He was dead, according to the Empire, so there was still a chance. And a chance was all that he needed. Hope was all that he needed. And it was all he had too.

“There’s a chance . . . and I need to know for myself.”

“I came back from the dead. So could she.” Nodding slowly to show his support for Rex, Echo promised him, “We’ll keep an eye out for her.”

“Thank you, Echo.”

*~*~*~*

When she felt that she had overstayed her welcome back on Washa, she found her way off planet. The number of planets that she would consider both safe and habitable was extremely low, but she managed to find her way to a small moon in the Outer Rim. It was warm, almost jungle-like and full of life. And she hoped that it would help her reconnect with the Force.

Weeks passed and she fell into a routine. There were a few remote villages scattered around the jungle and she made a few tentative acquaintances, but she was always quick to return to her alcove. She had managed to build a small home up in the trees and was starting to settle in.

And that was when the Force decided to pull the rug out from under her all over again.

Dropping her hands from her abdomen, she stared down at them as tears filled her eyes. Memories of her last few nights with Rex came to mind. They assumed that it was impossible or at least highly unlikely. They were safe in the beginning but as the war drew on and their ever-fragile mortality weighed on both of them, they forwent it.

And the spark in the Force that she sensed was the unmistakable result of that carelessness.

She fell forward and curled up on herself, that same fear that ate away at her for months now crawled up her spine yet again. Every labored breath she took pushed that numbing pain closer to her heart and mind, igniting flames where the now healed blaster bolt wounds had laid. She picked her head up, refusing to succumb again, but also terrified and alone, she reached out into the Force.

“Master,” she begged softly, “what am I going to do?”

*~*~*

Rex set his ship down on the dirt of a remote backwater planet that Senator Organa assured him would be a safe meeting location. Walking down the gangplank, Rex took off his helmet when he spotted Bail descending from his own ship. The two men greeted each other politely.

“What is this planet anyways?” Rex asked as he turned to follow the senator into his ship.

“It used to be inhabited two centuries ago. But then a civil war broke out and eventually destroyed all of the resources on the planet, forcing the survivors off world,” Bail explained, glancing out at the dustball. “And it’s not strategically located, so the galaxy has left it alone.”

Rex stared out at the landscape again, frowning as he thought about the galaxy’s current situation before heading inside the transport. They discussed intel and exchanged information. Rex delivered a copy of some Imperial intel that Nemec had managed to gather and Bail offered him what little he had heard about the remaining clones.

“You haven’t heard anything about any Jedi, have you, Senator?” Rex asked quietly.

“Not the one you seek information on, no,” Bail replied, causing Rex to look down. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“All the more reason to keep fighting,” Rex reasoned, earning a nod of support from Bail. Grabbing his new intel, Rex added, “I won’t take up any more of your time. And I should be getting back to my men with this new intel.”

“Of course.”

“May the Force be with you, Senator.”

“And May the Force be with you too, Rex.”

*~*~*

“I told you that the hyperdrive was acting funny!” Echo huffed with frustration.

The Bad Batch struggled to their feet after crash landing on a remote jungle moon in the Outer Rim. Hunter was first back to his feet and quick to check Omega over for any injuries or scratches from their crash landing. Tech straightened up from his seat and slowly moved to stand.

“It appears that there was a slight misalignment,” Tech stated, adjusting his goggles.

“Slight?” Hunter emphasized sarcastically. He looked out at the dense jungle through the viewport and sighed. “Let’s get the door open.”

With a bit of an extra push from Wrecker, the door of the Marauder opened and the Bad Batch spilled out into the jungle. Hunter kept Omega close, aware of the high number of life forms crawling around. The Batch tried to pull the Marauder out from the dense foliage that it crashed into, but it was of no use. Not even Wrecker’s full strength was enough to pull it out. And not with light fading.

“What are we going to do?” Omega asked, glancing between her brothers. “It’s starting to get dark.”

“And I’m starving!” Wrecker sighed, sitting on the root of a large tree.

It was eventually decided, after some deliberation with Tech, to scout the nearby area for sources of food and water, as their rations were already low. Hunter led the way into the jungle with the team forming a single-file line behind him. Entering a clearing, Hunter scanned the area when Wrecker stepped around him.

“Hey, look!” Wrecker yelled, pointing over at some vines berries growing on them. “I bet that we can eat those berries!”

“I would disagree with eating whatever you find on the ground out here,” Tech stated, shaking his head as Wrecker ran over to investigate. “And there is a high probability that those berries could be poisonous to us.”

“Then let’s figure out what they—”

Wrecker yelled out when he was suddenly strung up by his ankle by a thick rope. It was looped over a branch of the tree side Wrecker and connected to a pulley system.

“Wrecker!” Omega yelled out as Hunter ran forward to help his brother.

He scaled the tree and jumped, slicing through the rope with his vibro blade. Wrecked landed roughly, but he was unharmed. As the Bad Batch gathered around Wrecker to assess the situation, the sound of a rifle clicking caused Hunter to spin around, putting himself in front of Omega protectively.

“Someone’s out there,” Hunter warned, pulling out his blaster. “And they’re armed.”

“The person who set the trap, more than likely,” Tech stated, scanning the jungle around them. “Though this system is not listed as civilized.”

“Where are they?” Echo asked, looking around the jungle. “Up in the trees? On the ground?”

Hunter paused for a moment, waiting to hear the individual again. But then he suddenly turned and held his blaster up, pointing at the shadows. A hooded figure stood just out of the light, with a rifle in hand that was aimed straight at the Bad Batch.

“Easy,” Hunter stated, trying to reason with the individual. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” a feminine voice replied, a bit gruffly. Echo paused for a moment, frowning at the familiarity of the voice. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around, head back to your ship, get the kark off of this moon, and never come back.”

“We cannot complete that sequence of events. Our ship is damaged and stuck in the jungle growth. We are unable to get it out on our own,” Tech spoke up, causing the rifle to briefly train on him. “If you could point us to the nearest spaceport—”

“—There are none.”

“Then perhaps you have a device that we can use to remove our ship from the growth,” Tech continued, seemingly unfazed by the rifle. “Seeing as that is in line with your own objectives, it should be reasonable for you to provide us with assistance if you are able.”

“No.”

“Then perhaps—”

“—Are you always this talkative with someone holding you at blaster point?” the woman interjected, growing steadily more annoyed.

“Just him,” Wrecker stated, nudging Tech.

“General?” Echo called, causing the woman to hesitate. “Is that you?” The rifle lowered a bit more and Echo stepped forward, removing his helmet. “It’s me. Echo.”

“Who is it?” Omega questioned Echo curiously.

“A Jedi?” Hunter asked, causing the rifle to quickly lock on him.

“The Jedi are all dead,” the woman spat, though the edge of grief was easy to detect to Echo’s ear. “The Empire made sure of that.”

“We helped a Jedi escape,” Wrecker spoke up, causing the woman to train her rifle on him.

“A padawan. Caleb. He was General Billaba’s padawan,” Hunter recalled, causing the woman’s finger to shake as it rested against the trigger. “We received Order 66, but we never carried it out.”

“And they removed their chips,” Omega chirped, causing the woman to pause.

“What chips?” she demanded, causing Echo and Hunter to share a look.

“All clones were designed with inhibitor chips built into our brains. They were primarily designed to make us more obedient, especially to several predesigned codes to carry out specific orders that we would otherwise hesitate to complete,” Tech explained rapidly. “Every clone who heard the command, save for us really, immediately lost control of their minds and bodies to carry out the order.”

“Order 66,” she breathed out, remembering what Comet had been muttering to himself.

She looked down, starting to piece together the timeline of what happened that dark day. Echo shared a look with the other Bad Batchers before turning back to her.

“We all removed our chips. And we have the scars to prove it. And if you need, Tech can show you the report explaining what the chips are.” After a moment, he added, “It was written by Rex. Before the order came through.”

At the mention of Rex, she lowered the rifle completely. And after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped out into the light. Staring down at them with a measure of distrust still in her eyes, she sat the butt of her rifle down against the branch.

“Show me.”

After reading through the report for the third time, she tossed the datapad down to Tech again. Jumping down from the branch, she landed gracefully and straightened up. There was still an edge of distrust to her stance, but she looked more like the general that Echo remembered that a frightened hermit. And he considered that to be a success.

But when he glanced at the pack on her back, he paused. Because it was moving.

“Why are you here? What brought you here?” she asked, glancing between the Bad Batch.

“His faulty calculations,” Hunter explained, earning a sharp look from Tech in return.

“It was a minor misalignment.”

“You said that your ship is damaged?” she inquired, causing Echo to shake his head.

“We don’t think so. It’s just stuck in the vines.”

“Well, you won’t have any luck getting it out in the dark, even with my help,” she replied seriously. “There’s a lot more that lurks out here that you don’t want to run into in the dark.” After a moment of thought, she added, “Follow me.”

She turned around and for the first time, the Bad Batch could see what was in her pack. Or rather who was in her pack. A little swaddled baby was strapped to her back. Staring at the Batch, the baby cooed and giggled at their incredulous expressions.

“Is that . . .?” Hunter trailed off, sharing an incredulous look with Tech.

“A baby?” Omega completed softly.

The former Jedi turned around and slowly slipped her arm out of her pack until her son was strapped to her chest instead of her back. Resting her hands on the sides of his carrier, she slowly turned to look at the flabbergasted expressions of the clones in front of her.

And Echo couldn’t help but notice the blond hair atop the baby’s head.

“What’s his name?” Omega asked, taking a few steps forward.

“Atin.”

“Tenacious,” Tech translated quickly, adjusting his goggle. “In Mando’a, that is.”

“Yes,” she agreed, gently running her hand over her son’s head.

“Did he know?” Echo inquired quietly, causing her to shake her head.

“I didn’t even know. How would he?”

With a bitter smile, she turned and called for them to follow her again. Echo moved to walk beside her and Hunter held the others back a step, trying to give them some semblance of privacy. Echo glanced down at the baby content in the carrier before turning to the baby’s mother.

“He’s alive,” Echo stated softly, causing her to turn to him. “He’s alive. And he’s free.” After a moment, Echo added quietly, “And he’s looking for you.”

She nodded slowly, careful to step over a root, before carrying on her way. Echo walked beside her, giving her a moment to process the news. Reaching the base of a large tree, she turned to Echo with a tentative look in her eyes.

“Where is he?”

“It changes by the rotation,” Echo replied honestly. “He’s running around the galaxy. Freeing brothers. Stoking rebellions. Gathering intel.”

“I don’t think he knows how to relax,” she commented with an edge of humor before she glanced down at the child strapped to her chest. And then the smile slowly faded. “Do you think that you can convince him to come here? Alone?”

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer from him,” Echo promised her, causing her to smile softly again. “Rex didn’t give up on me. And it’s my turn to return the favor whether he likes it or not.”

“It’s like you two are brothers or something,” she joked, walking over to a hanging vine. Tugging on it until a ladder rolled down to the jungle floor. “Neither of you know how to give up.”

“It’s not in our blood,” Echo stated, glancing down at her baby. “Nor his.”

“Why do you think I named him ‘Atin’?” she asked rhetorically before moving to climb.

*~*~*~*

Rex wasn’t sure what Echo was thinking when he came out of hyperspace and spotted the jungle moon ahead. But he trusted Echo, so he flew towards the coordinates that Echo provided him. Slowly setting down the Y Wing on the jungle floor, Rex hopped out and started his short walk. Coming up on the meeting location, Rex looked around curiously when he heard a branch break behind him.

Grabbing his blaster, Rex whirled around, ready to defend himself. But when he saw her standing there, he dropped his blaster out of shock.

“Cyare?” he called softly, like he couldn’t believe that it was her.

“Rex,” she returned, smiling nervously.

Rex walked forward slowly. His blaster laid forgotten on the jungle floor. With his eyes never leaving her figure, he moved like a man possessed. She remained still, forcing her body to stay where it was, even as her mind screamed to move, to flee. Her nightmares started to creep up again but when Rex gently cupped her cheek, she returned to the present.

“What?” she asked quietly, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. “What is it?”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you,” he replied, causing her lips to wobble.

They quickly held onto each other, in disbelief that they were able to have the honor again. Rex cupped the back of her head to keep her close and let his tears slip free. She buried her face in his neck, ignoring the uncomfortable way that the plastoid dug into her. She didn’t care. Rex was here. Her Rex was here. Despite everything, he was finally here. They were finally back together.

Rex only loosened his grip when he heard a gentle cry echo through the jungle. Looking up, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, he turned back to her as she grabbed his hand. Gently leading him up the path and to the home that she built for them, she stepped inside. Rex, his heart thudding hard in his chest, waited a moment before walking in behind her.

And when she turned around with a baby in her arms, he fell to his knees.

She smiled, drying her own tears, before moving to join him on the floor. Sitting cross-legged in front of him, she held out their son to Rex for the first time. After hesitating for a moment, he gently moved to cradle his son—his son—against his chest.

“I believe you now,” she quipped, wiping his tears away.

“Believe me about what?” he croaked out, turning back to her with a loving expression.

“You are a natural blond.”

#the bad batch #bad batch #tbb #captain rex x jedi reader #captain rex x oc #captain rex x reader #captain rex #tcw #sw tcw #sw tbb #rex x reader #rex x oc #star wars tbb

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thisfeelslike-iykyk · 6 months ago

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thinking about how special it would feel to have luke skywalker's love.

luke's love changes as he matures. the younger he is, the more open he is with his affection. everyone knows he's heads over heels. he gets doe eyed around you, mindlessly following you around, completely at your service. a new hope luke is young and still sheltered, so his love is full of hope and optimism. empire strikes back luke is trying to balance the alliance, his training, and his feelings, so he's rather awkward and in this sort of limbo state where he wants to completely dedicate himself to you but just can't. return of the jedi luke is matured and has seen some shit, so his love is more practical and grounded.

luke's love is the ethereal moments of peace you steal together, forming a spiritual connection that transcends time and space itself. watching the sunset, no matter what planet you're on. meditating in the early hours of the morning. breathing in lungfuls of fresh air on the tallest mountain peaks. taking you back to his home planet of tatooine and letting you into the deepest corners of his heart. laying all of his secret worries and dreams onto you because he thinks he has to be strong in front of everyone else. he's the guiding star of the alliance, he's supposed to be the hero. he's supposed to be strong. after defeating the empire, the old luke is gone. you're there to support him as everything threatens to crumble, and it takes many years of patience, kindness, and love to open him back up to his youth and joy.

luke's love is unwavering. self sacrificing. he places the needs and wellbeing of others before his own, and this trait would only be amplified a hundred times when it comes to his soulmate. through star systems and across the universe, luke's love is a powerful and compassionate force rooted in hope, faith, and courage. hand in hand, you look ahead to tomorrow. nothing better awaits.

#star wars fandom #star wars #star wars original trilogy #jedi #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x reader #a new hope #empire strikes back #return of the jedi #star wars luke skywalker #luke skywalker fanfiction #anna's fics

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 month ago

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Irresistible Attraction - Anakin Skywalker X Female Reader

Title: Irresistible Attraction

Anakin Skywalker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda (Mentioned)

Requested By: Anon

WC: 1,279

Warnings: Set during when Anakin's a Knight, teasing, banter, flirting, italics, Star Wars canon violence (brief), Jedi Reader, very mini angst, and fluff

The air was thick with heat and the static whine of nearby droids. Anakin Skywalker dangled from his restraints, arms burning, feet barely brushing the floor as a single bead of sweat traced a slow path down his temple.

“This is your fault,” Obi-Wan said mildly beside him, his voice frustratingly calm for someone tied up and unarmed.

Anakin huffed, “How is this my fault?”

“You charged straight into the ambush.”

“You said split-up, I thought that meant-”

“I meant strategically, not dramatically.” Obi-Wan sighed tiredly, “Really, Anakin, must every mission end in a hostage situation?”

The younger Jedi twisted stubbornly against his binds, glancing around at the dozen or so droids posted around the room like statues, blasters ready.

Anakin wasn’t expecting this. It was supposed to be a simple mission, as Master Yoda had said. Wouldn’t even take more than a day or so to do, but then this happened. Of course, “simple” rarely meant what it was supposed to - not when Anakin Skywalker was involved.

He sighed through gritted teeth, flexing his wrists against the restraints. The metal bit into his soft skin. “You’re awfully calm for someone who just got captured.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, unbothered, “Panicking rarely solved anything, Anakin. Besides… Patience is a Jedi’s ally.”

Anakin groaned, sagging against his restraints. “Yeah, yeah. Patience, serenity, all that Jedi wisdom.”

Obi-Wan offered a small, infuriating smile. “Exactly.”

Anakin frowned, turning his head to look at his Master as much as he could, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, “You know something I don’t, Master?”

That familiar, maddening smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips, “Let’s just say… I have faith.”

‘In what?’ Anakin was about to ask, until the metal door in front of them clanged open with a violent hiss, smoke curling from its edges. Sparks rained down like stars as the silhouette of a long figure stepped into the room. The droids immediately pivoted towards the figure, blasters raised. But the figure didn’t move. They stood there, mysterious, ominous, cloaked in robes of dark grey and black that almost seemed to absorb the light around them. The hood of their cloak was pulled low, hiding most of their face in shadow. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, eyes narrowed in confusion. Obi-Wan’s calm demeanor was as unwavering as ever, but there was something different in his expression. Was that… Anticipation? Before Anakin could even voice his thoughts, the figure ignited their lightsaber.

The blade hummed to life with an eerie, calming hiss of blue. The sound filled the room, and then, without warning, the figure moved. In a flash, they were a blur of speed, their cloak fluttering behind them as they dashed toward the first droid. The droid fired, but the blaster bolt never reached its target. With a swift flick of their wrist, they deflected the shot effortlessly, sending it spiraling back into the droid’s chest. Sparks erupted, and the droid collapsed with a mechanical screech.

Before the others could react, they were already moving - their lightsaber spinning in a tight, rapid circle in front of them, deflecting a volley of blaster bolts with ease. One hand shot out, and a blast of the Force slammed three droids into the wall, crushing them like tin cans. They leapt forward, flipping mid-air, landing in a crouch as their blade swept in a clean arc, slicing through metal. And within seconds, the floor was littered with the smoking remains of droids. Limbs scattered, circuits sparking, and metal still hissing from the fierce heat of their blade; Anakin watched, hanging from his restraints, in a state of awe.

With a calm exhale, you sheathed your lightsaber, before clipping it smoothly to your hip. You turned on your heel, facing the two Jedi still dangling from their restraints. Jutting your hip out, hands settling on your waist, you raised a brow beneath your hood.

“Well,” You said dryly, “Don’t you two look tied up at the moment.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting as he gestured towards the restraints with a tilt of his chin. “Mind giving us a hand?”

Without so much as lifting a finger, the cuffs snapped open with a metallic click, and both Jedi dropped to the floor, landing on their feet. Anakin watched you, immediately rubbing at his sore wrists.

You stepped forward, your cloak swaying behind you, “Obi-Wan, still getting yourself into trouble, I see.”

Obi-Wan smiled warmly, clasping your shoulder, “For the record, it wasn’t my fault this time.”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing, “That’d be a first.”

Then, you turned toward the younger Jedi, finally pulling down your hood, and revealing your face for the first time. Sharp eyes, calm confidence, and a faint smirk tugging at your lips.

“So,” You began, eyes giving him a once over before meeting his blue eyes, “You must be Obi-Wan’s used-to-be Padawan.”

He swallowed, posture straightening slightly, “Uh… Yeah. That’s me.”

Your smirk deepened. “You’re taller than I expected. And... I gotta say, you’re kind of cute. For a Jedi.” You paused, your eyes lingering on him with an amused glint. “Reckless too, I hear. You get that from Obi-Wan.”

He blinked, a slow grin forming upon his lips at your words, “You’ve heard of me?”

“Oh,” You said, tilting your head, “Everyone’s heard of you, Anakin Skywalker.” You teased, amusement in your gaze.

“Funny… I’ve never heard of you before.”

You chuckled, stepping closer, “That’s because I’m better at staying off the radar.” Then, with a quick nod, you introduced yourself, “Name’s Y/N. Jedi Shadow. Your ride out of here.”

Before he could respond, you spun on your heel with a swish of your cloak and robes, already striding toward the exit. Anakin felt it before he could stop it, his smile growing as his gaze followed you. There was something about the way you moved, the way you fought, the way you spoke.

Obi-Wan nudged him in the side, hard enough to snap him out of it, “Careful, Anakin.”

Anakin blinked and looked over, trying to play it cool and nonchalant. “What?”

Obi-Wan gave him that calm, all-knowing look, “She’s impressive, yes. But if anything were to happen… Remember where your loyalties lie. The Order has never been fond of attachments.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I get it. No attachments, Master.”

Then, suddenly, you popped around the corner of the shattered doorway, one brow raised and a playful smirk on your lips before you tossed Anakin and Obi-Wan their stolen lightsabers. “Well? You two coming, or are you planning to redecorate this lovely prison cell?”

Fixing his lightsaber to his hip, Anakin didn’t hesitate, already moving. His boots echoed against the floor as he quickly caught up with you, that crooked grin breaking into something wider, brighter. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered on you said more than words ever could.

You caught his gaze, lips curving as you walked beside him. “Careful, Skywalker,” You spoke up, “Stare any longer and I’ll start to think you like me.”

Anakin’s smirk deepened, his eyes still fixed on you. “Maybe I do,” He said smoothly, voice low. “Is that going to be a problem?”

You glanced at Obi-Wan, who gave you a knowing look, but you shrugged it off, rolling your eyes before turning back to Anakin. You hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm... No, I don’t think it’ll be a problem at all.”

Anakin grinned, clearly pleased with your response, and as the two of you walked side by side, the tension between you felt almost tangible. Obi-Wan simply sighed, muttering under his breath, “This is going to be interesting…”

~~~

Main Masterlist | Star Wars Masterlist

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lukeslights4ber · 1 year ago

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he's so adorable i wanna bawl my eyes out

but he's also so hot? the duality of men

#he's literally my boyfriend #why is he so babygirl #luke my pookie #star wars #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker #mark hamill #star wars original trilogy #star wars a new hope #star wars empire strikes back #star wars return of the jedi #a new hope #empire strikes back #return of the jedi

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lowaltitude · 20 days ago

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Forsaken | Anakin Skywalker

- Star Wars AU - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

───── ❝ description + disclaimer ❞ ─────

𖥻 Anakin Skywalker x FEM!reader, in which the war is ongoing. You've been summoned back after years away—by Obi-Wan... 𖥻 ideological clash, the Force philosophy, emotional tension, and the “torn between two truths” weight on your shoulders 𖥻 6K WORDS. slight cringe? unintentionally seems like a love triangle. flashbacks. PART ONE Altitude

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

You are a Force-sensitive diplomat and former Padawan who left the Jedi Order years ago due to ideological differences, but you’ve maintained deep connections to both Anakin and Obi-Wan. You're now a neutral mediator between the Republic and outer-rim systems, respected by both the Senate and the Jedi, but distrusted for your independence. You share a long, unresolved romantic history with Anakin, and a deep emotional bond with Obi-Wan—as a former mentor, perhaps even something more complicated. Your presence becomes a catalyst for their divergence.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The Jedi Temple hadn't changed—but I had.

My boots echoed down the marbled halls like a ghost returning to a place I once called home. Golden light filtered in through the high windows, catching the motes of dust and ash that never seemed to settle anymore. The air smelled of incense and scorched metal. I paused at the threshold of the briefing chamber, my hand resting lightly on my belt. The door hissed open with a soft hydraulic sigh.

And there he was.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood with his back to me, hands folded behind him, eyes fixed on the Coruscant skyline. The fading sun outlined him in pale fire, but his silhouette was sharp—too sharp.

"You came," he said softly, not turning.

"I always do," I replied, voice steady. I wasn’t sure if it was a lie.

He finally turned to face me. There were new lines around his eyes. Older. Tired. But deeper than that—a weight. Something heavy sat on his shoulders that the Jedi robes couldn’t hide. He took a step forward, then stopped, as if unsure whether to approach or retreat. I didn’t move.

"The Council trusts your neutrality," he said. "They believe you'll give me a chance to explain myself before they condemn me."

"I’m not here on the Council’s behalf." I held his gaze. "I’m here for you."

That got to him. His composure cracked just slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might’ve been relief—or regret.

"They fear what I’ve become, Y/N. But the truth is—they made me this."

I studied him carefully. The way his voice lowered when he said it. Like it was sacred. Or dangerous.

"You're not here to explain yourself," I said. "You're here to see if I believe you."

"Do you?"

I didn’t answer. Because the door behind me opened again—and the Force shivered like lightning on water.

"Y/N?"

I turned, heart seizing. Anakin Skywalker stood in the doorway. His presence filled the room instantly—burning, unfiltered, alive. His golden saber hilt glinted at his hip, and his expression—when he saw me—softened like dawn breaking across a battlefield.

"You didn’t tell me she was here," he said, eyes narrowing at Obi-Wan.

"I wanted to speak with her before your emotions clouded the moment," Obi-Wan replied coolly. The tension between them was electric. The sun outside had turned blood-orange, casting shadows like battle scars across the floor. I stepped between them.

"Is this what it’s come to? You call me back, and I walk into a storm?"

"You're the only one left who sees both sides," Anakin said, jaw tight. "That makes you the most dangerous person in this Temple."

"Or the only one who can stop this before it starts."

Silence fell. The war hadn't reached the Temple walls yet. But in that moment, I realized: The real war was already here. And I was standing at its heart.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I needed air.

The Temple was suffocating—so full of ghosts I hadn’t made peace with. I slipped away to the high garden terrace, a place I used to escape to during training sessions I hated, lessons I questioned, dreams I couldn't share.

Now the garden was quiet, lit only by the glow of distant city lights and the soft hum of security fields. Somewhere in the lower levels, speeders buzzed like insects. Above, stars blinked cold and unfeeling.

I leaned against the stone railing, arms folded, trying to breathe.

"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice behind me.

I turned slowly. Anakin stood just inside the archway, his robes rustling in the breeze. His gaze was intense—not angry, but charged. Like everything he wasn’t saying was pressing against the back of his throat.

"I used to think this place was peaceful," I said, forcing a small smile. "Now it just feels... far away from everything that matters."

He stepped forward, slowly.

"You always did run to the highest places when things got complicated," he said. "I guess I hoped you'd run to me this time."

I looked away.

"That was a long time ago, Anakin."

"But not long enough that I forgot," he said quietly.

Silence stretched between us. I could hear his breath—shaky, barely restrained.

"You left," he said, finally. "And I tried to understand why. The Order, the rules, the way they looked at you like you were dangerous just for feeling something—"

"I left because it was killing me to stay," I interrupted. "Because if I stayed, I would’ve ended up like Obi-Wan. Drowning in loyalty to something that no longer believed in its own values."

He closed the distance between us in two steps. "And yet you're here again."

"Because you’re still here." That stopped him. I felt his hand brush mine—hesitant at first. Testing if I would pull away. I didn’t.

"I don’t know what’s happening to him," Anakin whispered. "Obi-Wan’s not just doubting the Council anymore. He’s... angry. Secretive. He talks like the Jedi are the problem, not the solution."

"And you’re afraid he’s right?"

He looked at me then, and it hit me—how exhausted he was. How much of his light he’d burned trying to hold everything together. "No," he said. "I’m afraid I’ll lose him before I can bring him back."

I nodded slowly, heart aching. "You won’t. Not if he still remembers what it means to care."

He was quiet for a long time. Then—his voice barely above a whisper—"Do you still remember?"

I turned toward him, really looking at him now. The scars. The wear in his voice. The man shaped by war, by love denied, by choices he was never allowed to make freely.

"Every day," I said.

And when he kissed me—it wasn’t rushed or reckless

It was like he’d been waiting. Like every emotion he couldn’t name during the war, every lingering glance across a battlefield, every moment of silence between us had been leading here. His hand slid to the side of my face, fingers threading into my hair, pulling me in like I was the only thing anchoring him to the present. And for that one impossible second, I let myself believe that maybe... maybe it was enough. That we were enough.

But then he pulled back. Breathless. Brow furrowed. Like he’d just stepped over a line he wasn’t sure he could ever uncross.

"I shouldn’t have done that," he said, voice raw.

"But you did," I whispered, still too close.

The shadows danced across his face, flickering with the distant lights of the city. He looked haunted.

"I've made too many choices lately that weren't mine," he said. "Letting myself feel this... it’s dangerous."

"Maybe the danger isn’t in feeling it," I said. "Maybe it’s in pretending we don’t."

He searched my eyes like he was looking for a reason not to believe me. But then the comm clipped to his belt beeped—sharp, insistent.

His jaw clenched as he checked it.

"It's the Temple guard," he muttered. "Obi-Wan just left his quarters. Alone. No record of where he’s going."

My stomach twisted.

"Is he running?"

"Or setting something in motion," Anakin said. "Either way—we can’t wait for the Council."

I nodded. "Let’s go."

He started toward the exit—then paused. Looked back at me.

"When this is over," he said, softer now, "when all of this ends... I don’t want to pretend anymore."

"Then don’t," I said. "But you have to survive it first."

A flicker of a smile. Sad. Steady. "Then stay close."

And with that, we slipped into the night. Together.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I’d forgotten how cold Coruscant could get this deep down.

The industrial levels were always in twilight. Streetlamps flickered overhead, casting long shadows against duracrete walls stained with smoke and time. The people down here didn’t look at Jedi—they barely looked up at all. This was where the Republic ended and the real galaxy began.

Anakin moved beside me in silence, cloak pulled close, hood half-lowered. Even here, even now, his presence was impossible to ignore. The Force wrapped around him like a storm held just beneath the skin.

"Anything?" I asked, watching him scan the crowd with a soldier’s precision.

He shook his head. "No... but he’s close. I can feel him."

"Then why does it feel like he’s letting us find him?"

Anakin didn’t answer. We slipped down a narrow alley, steam hissing from rusted vents. Somewhere far above, sirens echoed faintly—too far to mean anything to us. Finally, he stopped. His hand went out to halt me.

"Here," he whispered. "This is it."

I followed his gaze—and felt it too. The Force rippled like heat off the durasteel ahead. Subtle. Familiar. Controlled.

Obi-Wan.

There was a figure waiting near an old droid foundry, partially cloaked in shadow. Hood up. Posture unmistakable. I stepped forward, but Anakin grabbed my wrist. Not hard. Just enough to remind me: we didn’t know who he was anymore. Obi-Wan turned as if he’d heard that thought.

"You took your time," he said calmly. "I expected the Council, not the two of you."

"You knew we’d come," I said, stepping ahead of Anakin now. "Don’t pretend this wasn’t part of the plan."

Obi-Wan pushed back his hood. I expected anger. Defensiveness. But what I saw was worse. Conviction.

"I hoped you would come," he said, eyes locking on mine. "You’re the only one who might understand."

"You’ve been sabotaging Republic campaigns. Disrupting supply lines. Lying to the Council. I want to understand, but you’re making it harder by the second."

Obi-Wan looked past me—at Anakin.

"And what about you, Anakin? Still clinging to the idea that the Jedi are saving anyone?" Anakin didn’t speak. His jaw was locked, fists clenched at his sides. Obi-Wan took a slow step forward.

"You think I’ve fallen. But maybe I’ve woken up. The war isn’t just killing us on the battlefield—it’s rotting us from the inside. We were never meant to be generals. We were meant to be guardians. Guides. Not weapons of the Senate."

"And what would you become instead?" I asked. "A blade in the dark? A shadow behind Palpatine’s throne?"

"I’d tear down the throne," he said, his voice sharp now. "The Republic is a lie. And I refuse to die for it."

My heart sank. "Then what do you want from us, Obi-Wan?"

He looked at me. "I want you to choose. I want you to see what’s coming. The Jedi won’t survive what’s next. But we might—if we let go of what we were." For a moment, everything fell quiet. No blasters. No politics. Just three people, standing on the edge of something enormous. Then Anakin stepped beside me, voice quiet but steady.

"We’re not here to choose sides."

I nodded. "We’re here to stop you before you burn everything down."

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked between us. "So be it." And in a blur of motion, he ignited his saber—not blue.

Crimson.

My blood went cold. And the Force exploded around us.

The red glow from Obi-Wan’s saber bathed his face in bloodlight, but his eyes were clear. Steady. Certain. It wasn’t rage driving him. It was belief. And somehow, that made it worse.

“Step aside,” Obi-Wan said—low and even, like he wasn’t about to start a war. “I don’t want to fight you.”

"You ignited that saber," Anakin said coldly. “You made it a fight.”

“I did what I had to.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to me. “The Jedi serve a corrupt Senate. I serve the will of the Force, not bureaucracy.”

"The Force doesn’t ask for obedience through fear," Anakin snapped, stepping in front of me now. “You sound like Dooku.”

“I sound like Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said sharply, voice cracking. “He saw the cracks before any of us did. He died for his clarity. And now you're both making the same mistake I did—trusting an institution that feeds the machine of war.”

“You think we don’t see it?” I said quietly, stepping around Anakin. “We’ve lived the cost. But if the Jedi are flawed, let’s fix them. Not burn them to ash.”

Obi-Wan turned to me fully, and there was something in his gaze I hadn’t seen before.

Hope.

“You still understand,” he said. “You’ve always been different. That’s why they never trusted you. You feel more than they’re willing to. That’s not weakness—it’s what the Jedi were meant to be.”

He held out a hand to me. His saber stayed lit.

“You don’t belong in their council chambers and committees. You belong with me. Help me rebuild something better. Something true.”

My chest tightened. And for a second—just a second—I remembered being his Padawan. The first time I disobeyed the Code and he didn’t reprimand me, just smiled like he was proud. The night he told me I didn’t need to be perfect—only present.

I remembered safety. But I also remembered him walking away. The coldness that had grown where warmth used to be. The silence.

I looked at his hand. Then at Anakin.

“Is this what you meant to do?” I asked. “Bring us here to choose? Is this a battle or a recruitment pitch?”

Obi-Wan’s hand lowered. “Maybe both.”

I didn’t move.

And neither did Anakin. “I asked the Council to appoint you,” he said suddenly, without looking at me. “Before this.”

I turned, stunned. “You—what?”

“I wanted you on the Council. To have a voice. A vote. I thought if anyone could keep us honest, it was you.”

“Anakin—”

“But now you’re standing between us. And I don’t know if you’re the one who keeps us from falling apart—” his voice broke slightly, “—or the one we’ll shatter against.”

My breath caught. The air vibrated. The Force was screaming now—pulling in every direction. And then Obi-Wan moved.

His blade swung in a precise arc—not at me, not at Anakin, but between us. A warning. A line drawn.

Anakin ignited his saber instantly—blue clashing with red in a sudden burst of light and fury. Sparks flew. Metal groaned. The ground beneath us shuddered as Force waves collided in invisible shockwaves.

I staggered back—watching them move. And for a moment... I couldn’t tell who was winning.

They knew each other’s styles too well. Obi-Wan’s discipline against Anakin’s raw power. Fluidity against fire. Flash. A strike aimed at the heart—deflected. Flash. A kick, a leap, a force push that sent Anakin into a broken pillar.

Obi-Wan turned to me. “You can still walk away,” he said, breathing hard. “Before this war consumes both of us.”

“I already chose,” I said.

And I drew my saber.

Not for politics.

Not for the Council.

But for the truth they were both too blinded to see alone.

I stepped forward, blade raised— But before I could strike, a column buckled nearby. The catwalk overhead groaned. An unseen push—maybe from Obi-Wan, maybe from the Force itself—crashed into me like a wave.

My feet left the ground. For a second, all I saw was light and flame—Then the sound: a concussive boom as the ceiling above ruptured. Debris collapsed between us. Dust swallowed the air. I hit the ground hard, my saber skidding out of reach, my ribs burning. When the smoke cleared, I was alone on the lower level.

Cut off.

And he was there.

Obi-Wan.

Closer than I thought. Too close.

He didn’t strike. He just stood there, breathing hard, cloak torn, eyes rimmed with pain and fury and something far, far sadder. "You shouldn’t be here," he said.

"I’m exactly where I need to be."

He didn’t raise his weapon. Instead, he lowered it. Powered it down. The red hissed out like dying breath. And in that sudden quiet, my heart thudded loud in my chest. He looked at me—not like an enemy. Like a memory.

“You don’t have to follow him,” he said, voice hoarse. “He’s changing, and you know it.”

"So are you," I whispered.

"I changed because I had to. Because I saw what the Jedi were becoming—what they were making us become. Soldiers. Enforcers. Blind." He stepped closer, slow. “The Council never saw you. Not the way I did. Not the way I do. You were always too passionate, too bold. They feared that.”

I swallowed hard. “They didn’t fear me. They feared losing control.”

He smiled faintly. “Exactly. And now you have a choice.”

He reached for me—not for my weapon, not to attack. Just reached. Open palm. “I’m not asking you to betray him. I’m asking you to save yourself. Before the Council drags you down with them. Before he does.”

I should’ve stepped back.

But I didn’t.

Because I remembered the way he used to stand in the rain after missions, eyes to the sky like he was waiting for the Force to speak. I remembered how gently he corrected me, how deeply he listened when I doubted myself. How he believed I was destined for something more.

And maybe that was the worst part.

He still believed it.

“I know you feel it,” he said softly. “The weight. The rot inside the Republic. You were never meant to fight their wars.”

"And what were we meant for, Obi-Wan?" I whispered.

He held my gaze.

“To guide. To protect. To become something new. With me.”

The tears stung before I even realized they were there. My fingers curled tight around my saber. "You want me to walk away from him."

"I want you to walk toward yourself."

For a moment—I almost did.

Almost.

But then I felt it.

A flicker in the Force—Anakin. Hurt. Distant. Calling for me. And it hit me all at once—like oxygen flooding back into starving lungs. Not just the sound of him. The feeling of him. Fire and loyalty and heartbreak and hope—hope that I would choose us.

I looked at Obi-Wan.

And I stepped back. “I’m sorry,” I said. My voice cracked. “But I already have.”

His expression shattered. Just for a second.

Then—

A whisper of wind as his saber reignited. Crimson, glowing, blinding in the dark. “I won’t hold back next time,” he said quietly.

"I’m not asking you to."

And I turned—

And ran.

Back toward the fire.

Back toward Anakin.

The corridors were half-collapsed. Lights flickered. Metal hissed where fire still licked at broken beams. My boots slipped on ash.

“Anakin—” I shouted, voice cracking. No answer.

I pushed deeper into the wreckage, coughing against the smoke. The Force swirled around me in waves—grief, rage, desperation. And then—

I felt him. I didn’t see him first. I heard him—breathing. Shallow. Labored. I turned a corner.

And there he was.

Slumped against a fractured pillar, saber extinguished, eyes closed. Blood on his brow. Smoke curling around him like ghosts. His chest rose and fell in jagged pulls.

I ran to him, dropped to my knees. “Anakin—” My hands hovered uselessly over his chest, his shoulder, his face. “Hey. Hey.”

His eyes opened. And when they locked on mine—god, I nearly shattered.

“You came back,” he rasped.

“Of course I did.” My voice broke into a whisper. “You idiot.”

A shaky smile curved his lips. “Didn’t think you would.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me like he wasn’t sure I was real. And then—

“I felt you hesitate,” he said, quiet. “When he offered you a way out.”

My heart stung. “I almost took it.”

“I know.”

I didn’t look away. I let him see the guilt in my face, the fracture lines that hadn’t healed. “But I didn’t. I chose you.” Silence stretched between us—thick, pulsing, raw. And then Anakin leaned forward, forehead resting against mine.

“I don’t deserve that,” he whispered. “Not after everything I’ve done.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I said. “I do.”

He laughed—soft, broken. “We’re both a mess.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “But we’re still here.”

His hand found mine.

Fingers laced.

And in that moment, surrounded by fire and failure and everything we couldn’t fix—I felt something like peace.

Not because it was over.

But because we hadn’t given up.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The Temple gardens were quiet. Too quiet.

It was late. The war should’ve made everything feel sharper—louder—but somehow silence had become the most dangerous sound of all. Like something waiting to fall apart.

I found him there, sitting in the dark beneath the same tree we used to sneak off to as young Padawans. Legs drawn up, hands tangled in his own hair.

“Anakin?”

He didn’t look up. I sat beside him anyway.

He was shaking. “You don’t have to say anything,” I murmured.

And he didn’t. Not for a long time. Until he finally said—voice hollow—“They bombed the refugee convoy. I wasn’t fast enough.”

My stomach turned. I remembered that mission. Dozens dead. All civilian. No Republic forces nearby. No real reason.

“You weren’t the one who did it,” I whispered.

His jaw clenched. “No. But I could’ve stopped it. I sensed it. I knew. But I stayed. I followed orders. I waited for the Council’s confirmation instead of—” His voice cracked. “I waited. And they died.”

My breath caught. “That’s not on you.”

He turned then. Finally.

And his eyes—They weren’t angry. Not like I expected. They were numb.

“You don’t get it,” he said. “I’m done watching innocent people die while we debate ethics. While the Jedi twiddle their thumbs and hide behind codes that only make sense in a perfect galaxy. Which this isn’t.”

“Anakin—”

“I killed a senator last week.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

His voice was ice. Detached. “A Separatist envoy. Caught him boarding a cruiser. He was unarmed. I could’ve arrested him. Turned him in. But I knew—if I did that, he’d be back out by morning. Hundreds more would die because of him. So I didn’t hesitate.”

I stared at him. Frozen.

“I just did what had to be done.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“You should say something,” he murmured, almost like a prayer.

But I couldn’t. Because I saw the cracks forming in him. The places the war had hollowed out. The fire curling where there used to be light. And I didn’t know how to fix it.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ end flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

He’s staring at the floor now. Silent.

My fingers are still wrapped around his.

“You don’t get to decide if you deserve me,” I say softly. “You’re not perfect. You make mistakes.” A beat. “But you stopped when I asked you to.”

His eyes flick to mine.

“You looked me in the face, and you chose restraint, even when everything in you wanted to burn the galaxy down.”

His breath shudders out.

“You made the hardest choice,” I whisper. “You didn’t fall.” And maybe that’s why I’m still here. Maybe that’s why I ran through fire to get back to him.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The chamber felt colder than I remembered.

I stood in the center of the Council floor, wrapped in soot and smoke and someone else’s dried blood. The walls hummed softly. The city below blinked through the tall windows like stars too tired to shine.

Anakin was behind me—on his feet, but barely. A bandage at his temple, arm still stiff from the wreckage. I could feel him through the Force, like heat behind a wall. Simmering. Protective. Dangerous.

Mace Windu’s gaze was sharp as a blade. “You disobeyed orders,” he said flatly. “You interfered with a classified pursuit. And you endangered the life of a Council Master.”

“He wasn’t trying to arrest anyone,” I snapped, before I could stop myself. “He was trying to turn us against each other.”

Murmurs stirred. Ki-Adi’s brow furrowed. Plo Koon tilted his head.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi has always been a loyal servant of the Jedi Order,” Windu said. “He deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

“He’s not a servant anymore,” Anakin muttered behind me. “And maybe that’s the problem.”

Windu turned his gaze to him. “You’re lucky to be standing here at all.”

Anakin’s jaw tensed. I stepped closer to him—barely noticeable, but enough that he felt it. Enough that the Council saw. Yoda’s voice came quiet, grave. “Much emotion. Much fear. Around you both, it swirls.”

I swallowed hard. My voice didn’t shake.

“We didn’t ignite this war. But we’re the ones fighting it. Every day. Bleeding for it. Watching the people we care about slip away—because you want to pretend the system still works.”

“The system is all that stands between us and chaos,” Windu replied.

Anakin laughed. Soft. Bitter. “Chaos’s already here. You just can’t see it from your chairs.”

The silence that followed was heavy. That was when he said it. Low. Almost too low to hear. “I’ll leave.”

My head whipped toward him. “What?”

Anakin didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead. “If you think it’s me that’s the problem… if you think the only way to keep her safe is for me to walk away—then fine. I’ll do it.”

My stomach dropped.

“You think that’s what I want?” I asked, breathless.

“I think it’s the only way they’ll stop coming after you.”

He turned to me then—and his eyes, Force, his eyes—

“I don’t care if they take my rank, my saber, my name. Just not you.”

I shook my head. “You’re not thinking clearly—”

“I am.” He stepped forward. Closer than he should’ve in front of the Council. “I’ve never been more clear.”

“I don’t want to be protected, Anakin. I want you. All of you. Even the part that makes bad choices.”

He reached for my hand. I let him.

Windu looked between us like he was deciding whether to draw his saber or deliver a sentence.

And then Yoda said, quietly, “Both of you. Time… you must take. Before judgment is passed.”

Reluctantly, Windu gave a tight nod. “Dismissed. For now.”

Outside the Council Chamber, I caught Anakin’s arm as soon as the doors sealed shut. “What the hell was that?”

“I meant it.”

“I don’t want you to leave the Order,” I hissed. “That’s not what this is about.”

“No,” he said. “It’s about what they’ll do to you next. If I’m gone, they’ll stop watching. You’ll be free.”

“I don’t want to be free from you.”

We stared at each other, hearts pounding like sabers clashing in our chests.

“I need you,” I said. “But not at the cost of who you are.”

He exhaled slowly. Like the weight of the galaxy was bleeding out of him.

Then—softly, with a crooked, tired smile:

“You’re stuck with me, then.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The air was heavy with incense. The room glowed in soft amber, filtered through the skylight above. I sat cross-legged across from Master Yoda. He hadn’t spoken in minutes. Just breathed. So I waited.

Finally—his eyes opened. “Conflicted, you are,” he said.

My throat tightened. The words came slow. “I chose the Republic.”

A beat.

Then softer—almost to myself: “I chose Anakin.”

Yoda nodded, as if that was never in question. “But your heart does not rest.”

My fingers curled into the fabric of my robe. “I keep wondering… what if Obi-Wan was right?”

“Right, he may be,” Yoda said, eyes half-lidded. “In what he fights for.”

“But not how he fights for it.”

I looked up. “He said he serves the will of the Force. That the Jedi only serve bureaucracy.”

“Hard words. Painful truths, perhaps.” Yoda’s ears drooped slightly. “But twisted, they have become. Shadows of ideals. Shaped by grief. War.”

I swallowed hard.

“You still feel him,” he said.

I nodded. “Every time I reach for the Force, it’s like… there’s this thread. Tense. Pulling. I don’t know if he’s trying to save me—or if he thinks I need saving.”

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Rain fell hard on the scorched stone.

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of a ruined balcony, cloak soaked, hood down. His eyes were closed. Hands behind his back. The Force pulsed around him—chaotic, loud.

He felt it.

That flicker in the bond. The moment she chose. His eyes snapped open. “They still think I’m lost,” he murmured. Behind him, a figure stepped out of the shadows—hooded. Calm.

“You are,” said Count Dooku, voice like gravel over fire. “But that’s what makes you dangerous to them.”

Obi-Wan didn’t look away from the storm. “She chose Skywalker.”

“For now.”

Obi-Wan’s jaw tensed. “She doesn’t see what I see. What he’s becoming.”

“Then show her,” Dooku said simply. “You don’t need to fight them. Just… open her eyes.”

Obi-Wan said nothing for a long time.

Then—

“I won’t hurt her.”

“You won’t have to.”

Lightning cracked above. Obi-Wan turned away from the sky, from the storm. And vanished back into the dark.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back at the temple .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

“Still loves you, he does,” Yoda said gently.

I closed my eyes.

“That’s what scares me.”

Yoda tilted his head. “Afraid for yourself, are you?”

I shook my head. “Afraid for him.”

A long silence.

Then Yoda whispered, “When love becomes fear, dangerous it is. But when it becomes hope… mm. Stronger than any saber.”

I exhaled slowly. The words didn’t fix anything.

But for the first time since Mustafar, I didn’t feel like I was drowning.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The emotional aftershocks from the Temple still haven’t settled. But time waits for no one—

I found Anakin in the Temple’s north courtyard, staring up at the sky like it might split open and offer answers. His arm was still in a sling. His lightsaber lay across his lap—silent, but not resting. He didn’t look at me as I approached.

“He’s going to reach out again,” he said.

I sat beside him. “You felt it too?”

Anakin nodded. “Not directly. But... I know him.”

His fingers traced the emitter of his saber. “If Obi-Wan thinks he’s lost you, he’ll push harder. Not because he’s angry—because he still believes he can save you.”

“I don’t need saving.”

He finally looked at me. “I know.”

I reached for his hand and held it between both of mine. “Then trust me.”

His voice dropped. “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

“Her connection to Kenobi is... not severed,” Windu said, pacing. “If he makes contact again, she could be compromised.”

“She is loyal,” Plo Koon offered, calm but firm.

“So was Dooku, once,” Ki-Adi replied darkly.

“She’s more than loyal,” Yoda said, his eyes closed. “She’s centered. Even in conflict, clarity she finds.”

“Or deception,” Windu said sharply. “We should bring her in. Question her.”

“No,” Yoda said. Everyone turned. Yoda’s eyes opened—sharp, certain. “Let her come to us.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The holotable flickered.

Rex stood with dust still on his armor, helmet tucked under one arm, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Got something you’ll want to see,” he said, nodding toward the console.

A blue-tinted hologram of a devastated outpost blinked to life. Republic insignias—burned. Bodies—clones. Some of them his.

“We found this two clicks from Carida system,” Rex said. “Intel said it was a droid trap.”

Anakin stepped forward. “It wasn’t?”

“No droids,” Rex said. “But one Jedi signature, confirmed by the medtechs.”

He looked at me.

“Kenobi.”

My stomach dropped. “Sabotage?” I asked.

“More like... persuasion. The officers in command didn’t die from lightsaber wounds. They surrendered.”

Rex tapped the console. A new file opened—encrypted, but partially recovered.

A message. Only a few seconds of audio.

“You don’t have to die for a system that doesn’t see you. The Jedi aren’t your masters. You have a choice.”

Obi-Wan’s voice.

Calm. Steady.

Familiar.

Anakin didn’t move. But I felt his anger like a storm surge in the Force. “He’s turning the clones,” he whispered.

Rex didn’t deny it. “They’re listening, sir. Some of them... they’re starting to question orders.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I couldn’t sleep.

Not with Obi-Wan’s voice still ringing in my ears. Not with the Council watching me like a shadow waiting to fall. Anakin hadn’t spoken since the report. He stood at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the sleeping city. When I joined him, he didn’t flinch.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I whispered.

“I’m thinking if he reaches out to you, I won’t stop you from answering.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I won’t stop you. But I’ll be there when you do.”

His hand brushed mine.

“Because if he takes you… I’ll burn every planet he hides on.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The message came through just past midnight.

Encrypted. Buried in the Temple’s archives under a false file name: "Orbit Shift—Coruscant Agricultural Zones.”

A routine maintenance ping. Except… the metadata held a signature code. And I recognized it. Not because it was current.

Because it was old. Because Obi-Wan taught it to me.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

I couldn’t have been more than nine.

Too old, the Temple Masters said. But Qui-Gon Jinn had argued. Said the Force moved differently in some children. Said attachment was not always a weakness.

Obi-Wan was the first to meet me.

He was younger then. Still figuring out how to teach without sounding like he was quoting a textbook.

He’d handed me a broken communicator. Told me to fix it.

I crossed my arms. “Is this some Jedi test?”

His smile had been small, wry. “No. I just don’t have the parts. But if you want to talk to someone… sometimes the Force listens better when the lines are open.”

I remember turning the device over. Something etched inside, shallow but deliberate.

O.K. → Y/N If you’re ever lost, reverse the signal.

I didn’t know what he meant then.

But I do now.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ end flashback .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The hidden audio burst to life—only thirty seconds. Static. A familiar rhythm behind it. Not words—a pattern. My old comm code. Reversed.

Obi-Wan’s voice filtered through, faint but deliberate.

“You’re not the only one who remembers. They’ll say you’ve chosen your side. But the Force doesn’t take sides. It only waits for balance.”

Silence. Then, softer:

“Come to Carida. Alone.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The message hadn’t stayed secret long.

I stood in the center of the room, flanked by two temple guards. I hadn’t been arrested—but I hadn’t been invited, either.

Mace Windu was the first to speak.

“This is a direct contact from an enemy of the Republic. It cannot be ignored.”

“It was sent in code,” I said. “He knew I’d find it.”

“Which means it was for you,” he snapped. “Not for the Order.”

“She has history with him,” Ki-Adi said. “Emotional attachment.”

Yoda was quiet. Watching me.

Mace continued. “We can’t afford to assume her loyalty is stable. Not anymore.”

“Then say it,” I said coldly. “You think I’m a liability.”

“We think you’re the only one he’ll come near,” Plo Koon said. “Which makes you valuable.”

Which makes me bait, I thought. No one denied it.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anakin stood beside the ship they assigned me. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

“I do.”

“If he hurts you—”

“He won’t.”

Anakin grabbed my arm gently, his voice low and breaking.

“You think I’m scared of Obi-Wan?” he said. “I’m scared of losing you to him.”

I reached up, touching his face. “You won’t.” But I didn’t add as long as you don’t try to stop me. We were both keeping things back now. The space between us had never felt so wide.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Obi-Wan waited.

Alone.

No army. No fortress. Just a ruined garden, grown over with moss and silence.

He looked up at the stars. Felt the shift in the Force. She’s coming. And for the first time in days... He let himself hope.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The ship touched down on cracked stone.

Vines had overtaken what must’ve once been a training temple—a Jedi outpost from before the war, when the Order still sent knights to the Outer Rim to build things instead of break them.

Now, it looked like the ruins of something sacred. Or maybe something abandoned.

I stepped out. The air was thick with green and silence. And then—movement. He was already waiting.

Cloak draped over one shoulder, lightsaber at his hip. His hair was longer than I remembered. He looked older, but not fragile. Not dark.

Just... tired.

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan said, and it wasn’t a warning.

It was a memory. My name in a voice I hadn’t heard in months, and never like that.

I didn’t answer.

She’s come alone. But she didn’t come unarmed.

He gestured to a broken column. “Walk with me.”

I did. Not a duel yet. Not a battle. Just two people who used to know each other better than anyone else, now walking on opposite sides of a crumbling world.

We moved slowly through the ruins, the Force humming between us like tension in a drawn bow. Not hostile. Not yet.

“Why here?” I asked.

“It used to be a place of peace,” he said quietly. “I thought you’d remember it.”

I did. A training camp I visited once as a Padawan. He’d been instructing a small group then. I remembered watching him from a balcony. Even then, he'd looked alone. We stopped at a fallen archway where moss grew over stone carvings of ancient Jedi.

Obi-Wan turned to face me. “You got the message,” he said. “I wasn’t sure they’d let you.”

“They didn’t,” I said.

He nodded like he expected that. Then looked at me—really looked at me. “You’ve changed.”

“So have you.”

He didn’t smile. “I was hoping you’d see it for yourself. What the Council’s become. What the Jedi have become.”

My heart ached. “I have seen it.”

“Then come with me,” he said. No hesitation. No anger.

Just that same unbearable calm he always carried, even when the galaxy burned.

“You think it’s that simple?” I asked.

“I think it has to be.”

He stepped closer.

“I’m not building an empire. I’m not bowing to Sidious. I’ve seen what that leads to.”

He didn’t say Anakin’s name—but the silence screamed it.

“I want to rebuild something better. Something outside of the Republic’s chains. But I need people who still believe in something.”

I looked at him, torn in a thousand ways.

And he saw it.

“You still believe in me,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Don’t you?”

I opened my mouth but I didn’t answer.

Not yet.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ meanwhile, across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

The Council watched the tracker blink slowly across the holomap.

“She’s with him,” Windu said.

“Not detained,” Ki-Adi added.

“By choice,” Plo Koon murmured.

Anakin stood at the edge of the room, eyes locked on that blinking dot.

“I told you,” he said. “If anything happens to her…”

His voice didn’t finish the sentence.

It didn’t need to.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back in carida.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

Obi-Wan led me to the center of the ruins.

What I saw stopped me cold.

Stone columns had been reshaped—some by the Force, some by hand—into a circle. A ring of old Jedi symbols. The center held a tree, half-dead, half-blooming. Roots tangled around shattered armor. Clone helmets. Jedi hilts.

A memorial.

Or a warning.

“This is what we’re building,” he said. “Not a rebellion. A refuge.” He turned to me again—closer now, face etched with conviction. “You don’t have to go back to them. You don’t have to choose him.”

The words hit harder than anything else. But I didn’t flinch.

“I came to hear you,” I said. “To see for myself.”

“And?”

I looked at the tree. At the wreckage. At everything he’d kept buried in this garden of ghosts. Then back to him. “I chose the Republic,” I said first. And I saw hope flicker—just for a second—in his eyes. But then I finished. Quieter. Unshakable. “…I chose Anakin.”

Obi-Wan exhaled like he’d taken a hit to the ribs. His expression didn’t break—he was too disciplined for that. But the Force rippled with grief.

“I never wanted to lose you,” he said.

“You didn’t,” I whispered. “But I’m not yours to keep.”

He didn’t follow me as I turned to leave. He didn’t call after me.

But I felt it.

The moment it changed.

Like a thread severing. A bond splintering.

And somewhere, I knew—

He wouldn’t ask again.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anakin was waiting as I stepped off the ship.

He looked like hell—bruised, limping, tired—but alive. And the second he saw me, something in his shoulders dropped. The storm in him stilled.

“You came back,” he said, voice hoarse.

I stepped into him. “I never left.”

He pulled me close. Held on like he’d die if he didn’t. Above us, the skyline burned gold with sunrise. But peace still felt a galaxy away.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

TO BE CONTINUED ?? IN PART TWO:

Conviction (2) | Anakin Skywalker

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dazaih · 1 month ago

Text

sweet - luke skywalker x reader

luke skywalker is living on tatooine as he prepares to rescue han solo from jabba’s palace. you’re one of many bounty hunters sent to capture him. your mission complicates, however, when the lonely jedi is far too enthusiastic about your company.

bounty hunter! gender neutral reader x pre-rotj! luke

chapter warnings: light drinking, canon-typical violence

a/n: this is just an au where luke is supposed to be keeping a low profile as he hides out on tatooine after esb but he misses his friends and is way too social with strangers as a result. that is all

Luke Skywalker wasn’t easy to find. You weren’t sure if he was evading capture with his Jedi powers, if the Rebels were keeping him well hidden, or both, but your search had spanned two months now and your patience was growing incredibly thin.

You’d heard that the kid had blown up the Death Star, but you weren’t sure why Vader’s orders were to take him alive, or why so much effort was being spent on finding a single pilot. You didn’t normally take large bounties like this, as it was just so much more of a hassle, but under the collapsing economy of the Empire, you were running out of options. This pilot was going to singlehandedly put food on your table. You had a job to do, and more competition than you could handle, but what other option was there?

In your building frustration, you had started getting a bit sloppy. Your ship’s fuel tank being nearly on empty was a clear indictor of that. So, with no other option, you had to stop for fuel on the worst possible planet: Tatooine.

On top of that, you would have to dock at Mos Eisley. Your luck was growing worse by the minute.

Begrudgingly, you landed your ship, haggled with the station crew, and still paid more to fuel up than you should have. By the end of the interaction, you were about to blow a fuse, your anger reaching its limit. You hadn’t been this pissed in a long time, your growling stomach not doing much to ease your stress. So, with very little credits and a sour attitude, you made the trek over to the cantina.

What a shithole, you thought as you walked inside. The cantina wasn’t incredibly crowded tonight, but it was still relatively lively. The band was playing something a bit more relaxing, and you could see the setting suns from the seat you had taken at the bar. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

The bartender appeared in front of you, staring at you expectantly as your eyes roamed his selection. He didn’t bother with a greeting, but that was fine. You didn’t need one.

“Just beer is fine,” you mumbled, watching as he pulled one out and popped the cap off, “Thanks.”

“You wanna start a tab?” he asked, tired eyes boring into you.

“Yeah, why not.”

You supposed you’d dock at Tatooine for the night. It wasn’t like your bounty would be on this dead end planet anyway. If anything, he was more likely to be tucked away in a secret base, not allowed to leave in fear of being attacked. His status as a wanted man was quite well known, and there’s no way the Rebels would risk letting such a talented pilot slip out of their hands.

“You got anything to eat around here?” you asked, feeling your stomach growl once more.

The bartender must’ve heard it too, because he looked at you with a deeper grimace.

“I can make you a sandwich out of Haroun bread and Worrt meat,” he offered.

Gross, but you’d take what you could get.

“That’s fine, thanks,” you murmured.

He was nice enough to make the sandwich warm for you, and he did his best to make it look appetizing, even adding a little seasoning. You weren’t used to experiencing the kindness of strangers, so you weren’t quite sure how to respond, but you hoped that your gratitude was clear to him.

You studied the patrons as you ate, finally taking in your surroundings in full. A few men were playing some sort of card game you’d never seen before in the far corner, a prostitute sat talking to a potential client in a table to your right, and a few people were sitting close to the band. Prostitutes, gamblers, drunkards—this was all what you’d expected out of a Mos Eisley cantina.

“Ah, so you’ve made it another day.”

You momentarily thought that the bartender was speaking to you, but that hardly made sense. You looked up to see a new customer had entered, sliding into a barstool on your left, leaving an empty seat between you. You couldn’t see the person’s face, as the hood of their cloak concealed their features. From where you sat, you could only make out the outline of their side profile, the dim lighting and setting suns not doing you any favors.

“Seems like it,” the person replied.

The voice was much softer than what you’d expected out of a mysterious cloaked figure on Tatooine, but that was hardly as surprising as their drink order.

“Blue milk?” the bartender asked.

“Please.”

“Not dark blue?”

“I won’t be drinking tonight.”

Who comes to a bar and orders milk? you wanted to ask, but you bit your tongue for now. You still didn’t know whose identity that fabric was concealing, but judging by how friendly they appeared to be with a bartender in Mos Eisley, you were certain they were trouble.

“Suit yourself, kid. Anything else I can get ya?”

The figure seemed to contemplate this for a moment, gloved fingers drumming against the countertop thoughtfully.

“Got anything to eat?”

“That one right there is eating a Worrt sandwich,” he said, pointing at you, “That’s all we really have tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s dreadful,” they said quietly, not bothering to look at your plate, “I don’t need anything nutritious.”

“You’re asking if I have dustcrepes.”

“Sorry,” the voice was sheepish now, and you were willing to bet that the person under the hood was blushing, “Haven’t had anything sweet to eat in a while. I was just curious.”

“They’re not actually sweet, kid.”

“Nothing sweet ever came from Tatooine.”

The bartender laughed before disappearing for a moment, bringing back a plate with a singular dustcrepe on it. You were surprised to find that it didn’t look that bad.

“I hope this isn’t your only one,” the figure said softly, not yet sticking their fork into the treat, “I don’t want to take it from someone else—“

“Just eat the damn thing, kid. You’ve done enough for me. Least I can do is let you have the last dustcrepe.”

Hesitantly, the gloved hand cut a small piece of the crepe off, and you watched as the person’s shoulders relaxed when they finally took a bite. You had finished your sandwich now, but it wasn’t enough after several days of eating dried fruit and nuts, so you really couldn’t be blamed when another growl sounded from it.

The bartender turned to you, but the figure did not, now just sitting perfectly still.

“I know Worrt meat ain’t much. I’m sorry,” he apologized, wiping some sweat from his brow with a towel.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, embarrassed by your appetite, “I just haven’t been eating a lot lately. It’s my own fault. Thanks for the sandwich.”

You jumped in your seat when you saw the gloved hand extending in your direction, but the reflex to grab your blaster was tamed when you saw that half of the stranger’s dessert was being presented to you.

“What?” you asked, bewildered.

“Take half,” they insisted, nudging the food in your direction, only tilting their head slightly. You could make out their nose and a small part of their lips, but the dark shadows the hood was casting still made discerning any details difficult.

“No,” you replied, still confused, “I just ate. You haven’t eaten yet.”

“You’re hungry,” they said simply.

“It’s yours. You bought it.”

“Have you ever had a dustcrepe?”

“What? No?”

“Then at least try it.”

“He’s not gonna give up,” the bartender interrupted, a small smile on his lips, “He’d give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. Just the type of guy he is.”

“Don’t ask me to take off my clothes,” the stranger mumbled, and you nearly laughed in spite of yourself, “But he’s right. I’ve decided that you’re going to share this with me, and it seems like you want to, so take it.”

Reluctantly, you took the crepe from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you did so. You felt no heat from his palm, and you made a mental note that he must have had some type of prosthetic. Interesting, but not nearly as important as the treat you had just bitten into, which was probably the best thing you’d tasted in a long time.

“Good, right?”

“It is,” you admitted, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s one of my favorites, and I think everyone—“

He was cut off by someone tapping his shoulder, and he reflexively spun around in his seat to see who was trying to get his attention, consequently turning his back to you.

“I haven’t seen eyes like that around here in forever,” the culprit—one of the prostitutes you’d seen earlier, you realized—said, and you were suddenly envious that this woman had seen the kind stranger’s face and you had not.

“Oh,” the man said, seemingly dumbfounded, “But I was here yesterday?”

“It’s a shame you’re hiding such a handsome face,” she continued, ignoring his comment and taking a seat in his lap, “It’s a crime, really.”

“Thanks?” he all but squeaked, his hands flying up in an attempt to put some space between the two of them.

“Leave him alone, Pella,” the bartender huffed, sounding tired.

She sighed and climbed off of him, instead standing behind him and spinning him around to face the counter again.

“But just look,” she said, one hand on his shoulder and the other on top of his hood, “At those eyes.”

Before he realized what she was doing, she yanked down his hood, exposing his face to the entirety of Mos Eisley. The bartender rolled his eyes and no one else seemed to be particularly interested in the interaction, but you were floored.

Yes, he was beautiful. He had wispy blond locks that curled around his ears and a jaw that was strong but cheeks that were soft. You weren’t facing him directly, and yet you could still understand what she had meant about his eyes. They were a light blue, like the crystal waters of a much kinder planet than Tatooine, and shone even in the dim lighting of the cantina. His looks, however, were only a secondary thought to you at the moment, because there, in a tiny bar in the Outer Rim, sat Luke Skywalker.

“Son of a bitch.”

His eyes flickered to you in an instant, and he seemed to realize that your hand was hovering above your holster before you did.

“Don’t try it,” he pleaded, looking back up at you, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You weighed your options for a moment, and ultimately decided on unsheathing your blaster anyway, lunging out and grabbing the woman, pressing the barrel of your weapon to her temple. She screamed and kicked your shin, which hurt quite a bit, but you weren’t about to let anything stand in the way of you and this bounty.

“Hey!” the bartender shouted, coming out from behind the counter to confront you, “I make you a sandwich and you start pointing blasters at women in my bar? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“My business is with him,” you replied coldly, staring at Luke, “Drop any weapons you have.”

He was standing now, and with a sigh, he unclipped a blaster from his utility belt. You eyed him skeptically, but he just shook his head.

“Lost the saber when I lost the hand,” he told you, wiggling his gloved fingers at you in a way that almost felt sarcastic, “What now?”

His attitude wasn’t as annoying to you as it should’ve been, but you still glared. Keeping your blaster pointed at the woman, you quickly reached into your pocket, tossing a pair of handcuffs at the bartender.

“Cuff him. And if they don’t look tight enough, I’ll shoot her. Understand?”

When the bartender hesitated, you shoved your blaster harder into her temple, making her cry out in pain.

“I’ll be fine,” Luke told him, giving him a soft smile, “You don’t need to worry.”

The bartender still frowned, but he reluctantly reached forward, grabbing the cuffs.

“Behind his back,” you ordered.

Luke rolled his eyes and turned around, offering his hands to the bartender. He didn’t react as the cuffs were fitted tightly around his wrists, but you could see that they had to be painful.

“Okay,” you breathed out, shoving the woman forward and taking hold of Luke instead, “We’ll be out of your hair now. Apologies to the lady, and thanks for the food.”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke called out over his shoulder, apparently unbothered by your blaster pressing into his side as you guided him to the door, “Thank you for the crepe!”

When you exited the cantina, you roughly shoved him forward, now keeping your blaster level with his back.

“Walk that way,” you demanded, pushing him towards the direction of your ship.

“You shouldn’t have scared that woman like that,” he said quietly, though he obeyed your orders and began walking.

“She’ll be fine. She’s alive, isn’t she?” you countered.

“You didn’t have to threaten her.”

“She’s a prostitute at Mos Eisley. I’m sure she’s seen scarier people than me.”

“So? She’s still a person. And she has nothing to do with this.”

“Are you scolding me?” you finally asked in disbelief.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking ahead as he continued to walk, “I’m not trying to scold you. I just meant that other people didn’t need to get involved.”

In the span of thirty minutes, Luke Skywalker—the pilot who blew up the Death Star and wielded a lightsaber—had shared his crepe with you, scolded you for scaring a woman while trying to take him as a hostage, and then apologized for it. You briefly wondered if you had passed out from exhaustion and were having some sort of lucid dream.

“Why are you on Tatooine?”

“I’m from here. Why are you?” he countered, though it was without venom.

“Why are you here now? And because I almost ran out of fuel looking for you. I had no idea you’d be drinking blue milk in Mos Eisley, of all places. What’s up with that?”

He shrugged, silently continuing his trek. You walked a little faster and shoved your blaster into his spine as hard as you could, making him falter slightly.

“What?” he snapped, turning to look at you.

You tried not to lose your breath at the sight of his golden hair gleaming in the sunset, the sky’s soft orange hues making his blue eyes seem even more striking. You failed, exhaling deeply as you stared at him, bewildered by his beauty.

“What?” he asked again, this time with furrowed brows and genuine confusion.

“Nothing,” you grumbled, “Answer my questions.”

“None of it really matters,” he replied, turning and walking again, “Just stuff that doesn’t really concern you or your mission, I guess.”

“You don’t even know what my mission is. Why are you on Tatooine?”

He was silent for a moment, but eventually decided to humor you.

“You were expecting me to have another weapon. Was the lightsaber mentioned in my profile when you took the commission?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “It stands out. Not many people have those these days.”

“I suppose not,” he hummed, “Well, like I said, it’s gone. And I need another one. So here I am.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. Why are you here?”

“Looking through a dead guy’s stuff for some information on building a lightsaber myself. Among other things.”

“Among other things,” you mocked, rolling your eyes, “Why do you need a lightsaber anyway? Nothing beats a long range blaster.”

“You sound like my friend,” he said, chuckling quietly, “I’m a Jedi, so I need a lightsaber.”

“You’re not a Jedi,” you scoffed, not believing him for a second, “They’re extinct, but even if they weren’t, you wouldn’t be one. You haven’t even tried to fight me once. You’re weak.”

“I don’t need to fight you,” he said simply, “Because you won’t hand me over.”

The statement surprised you, and you felt the dam holding back the pent up frustration from the day snap. You finally made it to your ship, and you roughly shoved him inside, dragging him to the front of the small vessel and pushing him down into the co-captain’s chair. You loomed above him, pointing your blaster at the center of his forehead now, glaring at him.

“I will,” you seethed, your other hand falling to his shoulder to keep him in place, “I wish I could just kill you now and save myself the trouble of having to hear your voice all the way to the rendezvous point.”

“Where’s the rendezvous point?” he asked, cocking his head at you as if you weren’t holding a loaded weapon to it.

“I’m not—What the fuck is wrong with you? You should at least humor me a little and act like your life is in danger. This is bad for my self esteem.”

He laughed at that, showing off his stupidly perfect white teeth.

“My life’s not in danger,” he said, bringing his hands out from behind his back and holding them up to show you that his handcuffs were gone, “See? I’m all good.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a second, his freed hands mocking you and all you’d worked for.

“I’m gonna kill that bartender,” you announced calmly, turning to exit your ship again. You pushed the button to open the cockpit’s door, but it only parted halfway before slamming shut again. Puzzled, you smashed the button again, much harder this time, only for the exact same thing to happen. Finally, you turned to Luke, whose hand was outstretched, open palm facing you and the door.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, letting it fall back to his side, “But I can’t let you kill the bartender. He’s a nice guy. Also, he was true to his promise. He really had those cuffs on tight.”

“What did you just do?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“The Force,” he explained, still seated, “I’m a Jedi. I told you that. You should tell the Guild to update their records.”

You circled him slowly, now even more suspicious of him than before, and you raised your blaster again.

“I think Vader would understand if I killed you now. You’re freaking me out a little.”

“You’re funny,” he said sincerely, waving his hand again and sending your blaster flying across the room, “You seem to have a pretty good sense of humor. We could’ve had a nice conversation at the bar instead of doing all of this.”

You stared at your weapon in the corner, once again at a loss for what to do. You were a pretty talented bounty hunter, and you were confident that you could put up a decent fight against Luke, but you had no experience fighting Jedi.

“I’ve had a really long day,” you confessed, eyes darting between Luke and your blaster, “I’m pretty emotionally exhausted. I’m too tired to even be that pissed at you right now, and I really wish I wasn’t, because I really want to beat the hell out of you for giving me such a hard time, but unfortunately, I’m broke, and this job was supposed to be my ticket to financial security, so if you could just stop fucking things up and—“

“And what? Go and die quietly?” he interjected, quirking an eyebrow at you, “I’ve got things to do too, y’know. Can’t get myself killed just yet.”

“He wants you alive.”

“And then when I won’t do what he wants, he’ll kill me. I don’t have time for that right now.”

“Darth Vader put a bounty out on you and you’re worried about it getting in the way of your work schedule?”

“It’s important work,” he offered, shrugging again.

“Funny,” you huffed, feeling quite defeated, “Well, fuck me I guess. Why didn’t you take the handcuffs off sooner? Actually, why did you even come with me in the first place?”

“I haven’t spoken to someone my own age in two months. And you seemed nice.”

You had never been called nice a single time in your life. You were stunned, swallowing hard for a moment before speaking again.

“Well, sorry to have disappointed you.”

“You didn’t disappoint me. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I never get to talk to anyone these days. Being stuck here for two months has been draining, and—“

“You’ve been here for two months?” you asked, backtracking slightly.

“Yeah, around that long. Why?”

You had gone to eight different planets looking for this guy, and the entire time, he had been here, drinking blue milk and making friends with bartenders.

“Ah,” he said then, as if he understood your frustration, “Sorry to have caused you so much trouble. I’m sure it’s not nearly as much as whatever my bounty is, but since I can’t let you take me in, I can at least give you some of the credits I have—“

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you offering to compensate me when I just kidnapped you?”

“You didn’t kidnap me,” he corrected you, “I came willingly. And it’s fine. You were never going to actually turn me in anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I fully intended on bringing you in before you started moving shit around with your mind.”

“I can just tell,” he said simply, shrugging again.

You sighed, collapsing into the pilot’s chair and crossing your legs.

“Well, since I can’t shoot and kill you, and now I also can’t kidnap you, I guess you’re free to go.”

Just as the words left your mouth, your ship made a horrible creaking noise, causing you to shoot up out of your chair. To your surprise, Luke followed suit, gently placing a comforting hand on your arm. You wanted to slap him away, but you found yourself liking the light touch more than you anticipated, your cheeks flushing. He really was beautiful, but he was still supposed to be your bounty.

“It’s just the wind,” he reassured you, offering you a small smile, “But I wouldn’t go out in that right now. It could mean that a storm is approaching.”

“A storm? It doesn’t rain here, does it?”

“Not that kind of storm,” he replied, “A dust storm. It could be nothing, but when the wind picks up like that at night—“

He was interrupted by another strong gust rocking the ship forward, and he winced. He leaned forward to look through your windshield, and sure enough, considerable amounts of sand had started blowing through the air, and the suns had now nearly fully set. Even if you wanted to get Luke off of Tatooine, there was no way you could travel in this.

“If you want me to leave, I should probably do that now,” he said awkwardly, staring through your windshield.

“Is letting you out gonna blow a ton of sand into my ship?” you asked tiredly.

“Um, probably. Sorry.”

“How long will this last?”

“I’m not sure. Could be an hour, could be more. They usually get worse at night and settle by morning.”

“I just want one stroke of good luck,” you groaned, running your hand through your hair, “Whatever. Just stay until it’s over.”

He gave you a curious look at that, which would’ve been cute on anyone else; however, seeing as he had just extinguished your dream of financial stability, you were still a bit resentful.

“Okay,” he replied, smiling a little, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not doing it for you. My ship is already falling apart, and exposing the inside to a dust storm is just gonna be another nail in the coffin.”

“If you say so,” he hummed, sitting back down, “So, you’re a bounty hunter?”

“We don’t need to make small talk.”

“Yes, we do. It’ll be awkward if we don’t. And I’m genuinely interested. Like I said, I haven’t seen someone my own age in two months. You can humor me a little.”

You sighed, long and drawn out to make your misery clear to him.

“Fine,” you hissed, “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“Not really. You’re pretty laidback for a bounty hunter.”

“And now you’re insulting me. You’re the gift that keeps on giving, huh?”

He had the audacity to giggle at that, and you could’ve sworn that your heart stopped beating for a moment. There was no way that this was the same person who blew up the Death Star. There had to be some sort of mistake.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. Just that you’re not wound so tight that you start killing everyone in your path. Most bounty hunters are like that, in my experience at least. Not to generalize or anything.”

“You have a lot of experience with bounty hunters?”

“Well, yeah. I’m a bounty, after all.”

“Right,” you huffed, crossing your arms and relaxing a little, “And what? Others have found you before?”

“You’re the sixth this month.”

You sputtered for a moment, unable to conceal your surprise. You’d known that you probably weren’t the first person to run into Luke, but five others? This month?

“You’re full of shit,” you argued, narrowing your eyes at him, “Those are hunters from the Guild. You would have been captured by now. I don’t believe you.”

“Sorry?” he replied, looking a little uncomfortable, “You don’t have to believe me, but I don’t really have any reason to lie to you.”

“Yes, you do,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your ship made another horrible noise then, and your stomach churned when another gust of wind forced itself against your only mode of transport.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, standing and walking towards the entrance to your ship, “But if you’re really worried about sand, we should stuff some fabric in these cracks. You should really have this resealed, actually. Do you not get cold from the air seeping in?”

“What, you’re making renovations now?” you scoffed, standing and following him as he walked down the corridor, “Hey! Where are you going?”

“To get fabric,” he called back, and he was gone.

You jogged to catch up with him, only to be floored when you saw him wave the door to your quarters open with his hand. That should’ve been impossible, but you supposed he was full of surprises.

“You can’t just barge into my room,” you snapped, putting an arm in front of him and slamming the button to shut the door.

“Don’t complain when your loading ramp is covered in sand tomorrow morning.”

You stared at him for a second before begrudgingly relenting, slamming the button once more. He smiled at you as he stepped into your quarters. You were hoping that he wouldn’t try to read you by studying your room, but your hopes were shattered when he made his way to a small desk in the corner.

“Is this an N-1 Starfighter?” he asked, staring at a model ship you had sitting on the desk, “I used to collect model ships. I never had this one though.”

“Yes,” you snapped, stepping between him and the desk, “I killed a guy for that. Don’t touch it.”

“Can I touch it?”

“I just said—“

“I won’t break it. I swear. I can be delicate.”

“Fine,” you hissed, reluctantly placing the model in his hands, “But if you break it, you have to let me take you to Vader.”

“Sounds fair,” he agreed, even though trading his life and freedom for the chance to hold an N-1 model hardly seemed fair to you at all.

You tried not to look at him at all as he admired the ship in his hands. You tried not to notice how his eyes lit up and his entire body visibly relaxed. You hadn’t even realized he’d been tense until now. His gloved thumb gently traced the doors, and with all the care he could muster, he tapped the tiny droid you had placed inside.

“It even has an astromech,” he mused happily, and for whatever reason, he felt compelled to meet your eyes then.

His beauty was truly unfair. Even in the dim lighting of your ship, his eyes still sparkled, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look like in broad daylight. Divine, surely.

“Um, yeah,” you replied, voice strained, “I found that separately.”

“It’s a good addition,” he praised, smiling at you, “I have an astromech myself. Flying isn’t the same without him.”

“The R2 unit,” you said, recalling its mention in his commission profile.

“His reputation precedes him then,” he chuckled, shaking his head fondly, “Makes sense. Big personality for a little droid.”

“I wasn’t aware that droids had personalities.”

“I’ve met droids more personable than some people.“

“Seems more likely that you’re just projecting your big personality onto them,” you scoffed.

He smiled at you again and gently placed the model back into your hands.

“Thanks for letting me look at it. That’s probably the nicest model ship I’ve ever seen.”

“Whatever,” you murmured.

Your ship made another creaking sound then, and tilted more than it should have at the next gust of wind. To your horror, you were knocked off kilter, N-1 model flying out of your hands as you fell towards the floor.

Luke caught you before you collided with the ground, but you hardly cared. You shoved him off of you as you scanned the ground for the model ship, and you began to panic when you couldn’t find it.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, and your head snapped up to see the tiny N-1 Starfighter hovering level to where you’d been holding it. You looked to see that his other hand was outstretched; he appeared to have used his powers to keep both you and your prized possession from hitting the floor.

Relieved as he gently moved the model back into your hands, you sighed and placed it in your desk drawer. You’d keep it there until your ship stopped swaying in the violent winds of Tatooine. You didn’t bother thanking him.

“Do you have any extra sheets or blankets? We can use those to seal the gaps for now,” he said, reminding you of why you’d both come into your quarters in the first place.

“A few, yeah,” you mumbled, pulling some extra sheets from the drawers under your bed. You tossed a couple into his hands, and the two of you exited your quarters and made your way back to the entrance.

He got to work immediately, stuffing the sheets into the cracks that ran along your door. You didn’t offer assistance, instead standing with your arms crossed in front of your chest as you watched him. He was out of sheets, but a small portion of the seal still remained unattended.

“Do you have any more?” he asked, turning back to look at you.

“No,” you snapped, glaring at him, “Can’t you use your cloak?”

He cocked his head at you then, and pursed his lips together in what may have been annoyance. Seeing his expression venture anywhere near irritation was surprising to you at this point, and you wondered if you should continue giving him a hard time just so you could see him lose his composure a little. Maybe then you could finally gain some insight into why the Empire regarded him as such a great threat.

“I told you not to ask me to take my clothes off,” he joked weakly, though he looked a little uncomfortable.

“It’s the perfect size. Why not?”

“I just don’t want to,” he huffed, seeming torn between honoring your request and keeping his robe on.

“Not very noble of you, Jedi.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, eyes narrowing at you, “You’re trying to get under my skin. If I’m stuck here until the storm blows over, shouldn’t we at least be civil?”

“Your stoicism is annoying me. I can’t be civil if I’m annoyed.”

He stared at you for a second before sighing, his shoulders slumping a little.

“Sorry?” he replied, brows furrowed, “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be acting, but I can be quiet for the rest of the night if that helps.”

For some reason, you were beginning to regret trying to annoy him. He wasn’t actually growing irritated with you; he just seemed hurt.

“I’m going to bed,” you said then, deciding this was a bandaid fix to your growing uncertainty surrounding your bounty, “I guess you can leave when the storm calms down, since I’m apparently not going to turn you in. Don’t break anything.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, seemingly surprised by your response, “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” you murmured, and with that, you stormed off towards your quarters, managing not to look back at him a single time.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sleep didn’t come easily to you. Perhaps it was because you had left a supposed Jedi unattended in your cockpit, or maybe it was because of the harsh wind blowing against the side of your ship, which was already in worrisome condition. Regardless of the reasoning, you were struggling to rest.

After a few hours of trying in vain to sleep, you finally decided to give up. In your night robes, you ventured back into the cockpit, half expecting Luke to have vanished into the night.

How wrong you were.

There, having leaned the co-pilot’s chair as far back as it would go (which wasn’t very far, admittedly), sat Luke Skywalker. His knees were pulled to his chest, and his head rested against the back of the chair, his eyes closed. A shiver passed through him, and only then did you realize that he wasn’t wearing his cloak. You walked back towards the entrance door then, only to see that he had, in fact, shoved his robe into the remaining gaps. You sighed, a degree of guilt you hadn’t felt in years creeping up on you and gripping your conscience.

Reluctantly, you returned to the cockpit and roughly shook him by his shoulders. He jolted awake, eyes wide as he momentarily panicked. Much to your dismay, he immediately relaxed upon realizing it was you. This was an insult to your career.

“Is the storm over?” he asked, voice strained and raspy from sleep. You hated how attractive you found it.

“No,” you mumbled, unable to stop yourself from staring into his soft, tired eyes, “Come on.”

Confused, but willing to follow you anyway, he stood, trailing behind you as you led him back towards your quarters.

“Get your cloak,” you snapped when you passed the entryway, and he quickly complied.

“Some sand might get through—“

“I don’t care. Just take your shit.”

“Okay,” he replied, stifling a giggle. You rolled your eyes.

When you entered your quarters, you climbed back into bed. He stood, looking a little uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. Begrudgingly, you tossed a pillow down onto the rug next to your bed.

“Not being able to see you is stressing me out,” you said then, trying to sound as menacing as you could. Apparently, your efforts were in vain.

“Aw,” he hummed, taking a seat on your rug, “That’s sweet. Thank you.”

“I meant—“ you began, but you sighed in defeat when you caught sight of his sleepy smile, “Okay, whatever. I’m going back to sleep. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, still grinning at you, “Goodnight. Thanks for the pillow.”

You didn’t reply, instead turning on your side so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

This was the most troublesome bounty you’d ever agreed to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren’t sure why, but you awoke with a start, unable to breathe. You gasped and reached for your weapon, your fight or flight response immediately kicking in. When you were able to fully open your eyes, you realized in terror that you were face to face with a Trandoshan, his hands around your throat and his claws digging into your skin. Eyes widening, you managed to clutch the small knife you kept under your pillow, and shoved the blade into the side of the creature’s neck. He howled out in pain just long enough to allow you to roll out of your bed. You hit the floor hard, but managed to recover as you finally made it to your feet. Your blaster sat on your desk, and you made a beeline for it as you continued to cough from the assailant’s attack on your throat.

As your fingers wrapped around the handle of your blaster, you suddenly felt claws digging into your ankle, pulling you backwards and making you hit the ground again. You gasped, the air having been knocked out of your lungs, but didn’t release your hold on your blaster. The Trandoshan lifted you by your ankle and slammed your body onto the floor, your head making a horrible sound as it collided with the steel below. Grunting, you held onto your blaster for dear life, trying to think clearly enough to fend off the attack on your life.

You feigned unconsciousness if only to stave off another collision with the floor. The Trandoshan moved to kick your blaster from your hand then, but in a panicked effort to save yourself, you rolled to the side. You caught your attacker off guard enough to fire a shot to his knee, but knowing Trandoshans and their cockroach-esque abilities, it wouldn’t be enough. You fired off another shot into the creature’s neck, near where you’d shoved the blade, and you finally managed to bring him to the ground. Heart beating fast, you pointed your blaster at his head and kept your finger on the trigger until you were sure he was no longer breathing.

Hearing a commotion elsewhere on your ship, your adrenaline motivated you to race down the corridor and into the cockpit. To your horror, you saw that three more Trandoshans had infiltrated. You were confused by the corpse of one sitting on the floor next to a defeated assassin droid, but your confusion was quickly resolved when you caught sight of Luke standing on top of the co-pilot’s chair. He was unarmed, and yet a Trandoshan and assassin droid lay dead on the ground. You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“You are outnumbered,” one of the Trandoshans hissed, blaster pointed at Luke.

Luke caught sight of you then, and before you knew what was happening, your blaster was flying through the air and into his hand.

“Hey!” you shouted, but he ignored you as he quickly fired a round into the two Trandoshans standing in front of him. You weren’t able to warn him about the lack of ammunition in your blaster before it was too late, and he frowned as he realized that he no longer had a weapon. The last Trandoshan charged at him then, but he dodged the attack by jumping off of the chair and landing gracefully on his feet.

The attacker shot at him as he skillfully evaded the bullets. You were impressed, but you couldn’t help but frown as your floors were maimed. Luke kept him firing until the Trandoshan was out of ammunition as well, leaving him with no choice but to engage the Jedi in close combat. Luke had no problem with this, practically dancing around the Trandoshan as he fended off his attacks. The creature did finally land a hit on him, however, and you winced as blood trickled down his nose.

You ran towards your arsenal then, deciding that Luke no longer had the situation under control. You picked up two more blasters and then scurried back into the cockpit, ready to shoot down the intruder. When you arrived, however, the Trandoshan’s feet were no longer touching the ground. You followed his panicked gaze until your eyes landed on Luke, whose outstretched hand appeared to be the culprit behind the floating creature in your cockpit. His expression was sharp as he clutched his hand into a fist, and with a final gasp, the Trandoshan fell to the ground, dead.

Luke panted, walking backwards until the back of his knees hit the co-pilot’s chair. He collapsed onto it then, trying to catch his breath as he sat with his head in his hand.

Only then did you finally begin to realize the danger he posed. You had struggled to take out one Trandoshan, and he had managed to kill four and an assassin droid in the same amount of time. He was only armed for two of those kills, and you felt a little sick at the realization that you had been sleeping in the same room as a man who could choke people with his mind.

Blood trickled from his nose and down his chin, but he seemed rather indifferent to it. Sighing, you approached him cautiously, blaster still in your hand as you neared the man in your cockpit. He must have sensed you growing near, because his eyes flew open and he looked up at you.

“Hey,” he greeted you softly, his voice strained, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You stared at him for a second, bewildered by the implication that he’d intended to fight off all of the attackers on his own while letting you sleep.

“One of them made it into my quarters,” you replied, unsure of what else to say. His face fell, and he stood to survey your body for an indication that you were hurt. You weren’t sure how, but he managed to find one, and you froze when his gloved hand caressed your cheek.

“You’re injured,” he said in between his ragged breaths, hand moving to touch your forehead, “Where’s your ‘fresher?”

You blinked at him and pointed down the hallway, unable to protest as he grabbed your hand and dragged you to your own restroom. Blood still dripping down his face, he made you sit on the lid of the toilet as he searched for a first aid kit. He really must have had some unnatural ability to find what he was looking for, because he returned with it in his hand.

“You’re bleeding,” he told you then, kneeling in front of you as he put a cloth under your nose, “Blow.”

You obeyed, a little dazed, but he stopped you.

“Not that hard,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes and blew your nose a bit more gently. He folded the cloth then and made you lean forward a bit, placing it in your hand and making you hold it. He then guided your other hand to pinch your nose.

“Sit like that for a few minutes. Don’t blow your nose again unless I tell you to.”

“You’re bleeding,” you told him, your own voice coming out as nasally. You cringed at the sound, but he giggled.

“Yeah, but you’re the one with a likely concussion. I’m alright.”

He leaned over your sink as he tended to his own nose, and you frowned when he spit a bit of blood into it, quickly rinsing it down by turning on the faucet.

“Who were they?” you finally asked, beginning to sort through the haze in your brain.

“Trandoshans. Dangerous, known for hunting Wookiees—“

“I know what Trandoshans are,” you snorted.

“Sorry, right. You’re a bounty hunter. I didn’t know what they were until a few months ago when they started trying to kill me, but then again, I’m from the middle of nowhere. Anyway, yeah. They broke in—you really need to get your doors fixed—because they saw us leave the cantina together. They were after me. I’m sorry that you got hurt.”

He sounded so sad towards the end that you could hardly stand it, and you couldn’t get over how ridiculous he was for apologizing for attracting additional bounty hunters when you were the one who had kidnapped him in the first place.

“I made you come here against your will. Don’t apologize for my mistakes,” you murmured.

Perhaps it was the mental fog resulting from your possible concussion, but you felt a little more relaxed around him than before. Considering how you’d just seen him decimate an entire group of bounty hunters, it was certainly a little ironic. Still, he was tending to your wounds and profusely apologizing when it wasn’t even his fault to begin with, and you couldn’t help how fascinated you were by his actions. You’d never met anyone like him.

“I could’ve left. I’m from Tatooine, you know. I could’ve handled the storm,” he mumbled, spitting some more blood into your sink.

“I told you not to. Because of the sand,” you reminded him.

“But I should’ve known that staying was risky. I put you in danger because I was being selfish. I’m sorry,” he said seriously, meeting your eyes with an expression so sad that you wanted to throw up.

“It was my poor judgment. Not yours,” you replied, voice quite stern despite the nasally pitch that pinching your nose made inevitable.

“No,” he mumbled quietly, cheeks a little red, “I wanted to stay. I was looking for a reason to. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“What?” you asked, confused by his admission, “Why? I was trying to kidnap you.”

“I mean, I could’ve gotten out of that,” he replied, gesturing towards the bodies in your cockpit, “I just didn’t want to. You’re really interesting, and like I said, I haven’t spoken to anyone my own age in two months now, and you’re really funny—“

“You’re insane,” you mused in disbelief, “You’re so lonely that you’d befriend someone who’s actively trying to get you killed?”

“You make it sound embarrassing,” he grumbled, frowning. It was cute.

“It is embarrassing,” you teased, staring at him as he tried to stop his nose from bleeding, “You should be more careful. What if I had hurt you while you were sleeping?”

“I would’ve woken up,” he argued, “Look, I’m not trying to sound arrogant or anything, but I really think I could’ve held my own against you. And besides, you weren’t gonna turn me in.”

“How would you know?”

“I sensed it,” he replied, grinning. A little bit of blood had pooled around his teeth. Sighing, you tore off some toilet paper and stood, shoving it into his mouth. He squawked in surprise, hitting his head against the wall as he walked backwards. After you wiped the blood from his teeth, you threw the tissue into the garbage alongside the cloth you’d been holding under your nose. He continued to stare at you in utter disbelief, as if wiping the blood from his mouth was the craziest part of this night.

“You can’t be serious,” you said, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“You just put paper in my mouth,” he replied, “Warn me next time.”

This was the most emotive you’d seen him all night. You couldn’t conceal your amusement.

“So I can do it again if I warn you?” you asked, wondering if the punches he’d endured had given him a concussion as well.

“Sure? But I almost bit you, like, reflexively. So just let me know before you do something like that.”

Of course he was only so stressed because he was worried that he might’ve hurt you. You rolled your eyes and laughed in spite of yourself. Only when his expression softened did you realize what you’d done.

“You have a beautiful laugh,” he said sincerely, smiling at you with blood still trickling down his face. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I think you have a concussion,” you huffed, crossing your arms and watching him in the mirror as he tended to his injuries.

“Probably,” he laughed, pinching his nose, “I need to stop getting hit in the face. It’s fine every now and then, but this has happened quite a few times this month.”

“You’re gonna get a permanent brain injury or something. Why not just leave Tatooine if so many bounty hunters are tracing you back to here?”

“Jedi stuff,” he replied, grinning as he made eye contact with you through the bathroom mirror.

“Sounds like a load of shit. Nothing is worth risking your life every few days.”

“Rich, coming from a bounty hunter.”

“Except for money,” you clarified, and hearing him giggle as a result felt like a small victory to you for reasons you didn’t really want to think critically about.

“I value knowledge more than money,” he said, “But if you must know, I do have other business on Tatooine.”

“So you’ve said. You never elaborated.”

“My friend is stuck here. I’m working on getting him out,” he told you simply, tossing his bloodied tissue into the trashcan and shrugging.

“Sounds like your friend might be more trouble than he’s worth if you’ve had to put up with a bunch of bloody noses while coming up with a plan.”

“He’s trouble,” he agreed, smiling, “But he’s certainly worth it. He’d do the same for me.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever had a relationship like that—one where you’d risk your life to save the other person. You weren’t surprised that someone like Luke would have plenty of deeply meaningful friendships, though. You could see how his friends would treasure him, and how he’d do the same. That seemed to be the kind of person he was.

“I’m sure he would,” you replied, somewhat absentmindedly as you admired him.

“Do you hear that?” he asked suddenly, turning to face you with wide eyes.

“No?”

“The storm is over,” he declared, and he practically raced out of your bathroom and into the cockpit to see for himself. He paid no mind to the bodies of the bounty hunters he stepped over, his demeanor greatly contrasting the rather morbid scene.

He was right. The twin suns were beginning to rise, the air now appearing somewhat clear.

“Have you ever seen a sunrise on Tatooine?” he asked then, watching you as you stared out at the pink sky. You shook your head.

“Then we should go see it,” he decided, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the entrance ramp.

“If I’m not turning you in, I need to pick up another commission. I should go—“

“You should get checked out by a medical droid before you fly this thing. You definitely have a concussion.”

“You’re not a doctor,” you argued as he pulled your sheets from the cracks in the door, folding them before placing them on the ground, because of course he would.

“Which is why we should get you to someone who can confirm what I already sense,” he replied somewhat teasingly, “Let me show you the sunrise first. Your head will probably hurt afterwards because of how bright it’ll be, and then I’ll feel vindicated and we’ll find a medical droid. Sound good?”

“I have a job,” you protested, but he was already pulling you outside.

“You can’t do your job with a head injury,” he said, and before you could put up any further complaints, he was dragging you outside.

Following your bounty to go watch the sunrise was not how you had expected this job to go; however, in spite of yourself, you felt the smallest ember of joy begin to burn within you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

He was right about three things.

The first was that the Tatooine sunrise was truly something to behold. He had climbed onto the roof of the tallest building in Mos Eisley, and you begrudgingly followed him. As the twin suns began to make their debut, however, you were glad that he’d made you do this. You didn’t think that Tatooine had any beauty to offer, but you were quickly proven wrong by the scene unfolding before you.

The second was that you had a concussion. He found a medical droid for you after you had, in fact, complained about the brightness of the suns once they had fully emerged, and you were told that you had a very mild head injury. You’d be fine, but the droid advised against flying for the next few days. Luke seemed all too pleased by this news, and offered to let you stay with him for a bit. He was likely just lonely as a consequence of being on Tatooine by himself for so long, but someone wanting you around was still a foreign and strangely pleasant feeling. In spite of yourself, you relished in it.

The third was that you were not, as he’d said from the very beginning, going to turn him over to the Empire. How could you? Anyone who spent more than a few minutes in his presence would struggle to put him in harm’s way. In fact, he was probably using some sort of mind trick on you. That was the only explanation for the sudden softening of your calloused heart. He must have this effect on everyone, and that’s what made him so dangerous.

Even with your skepticisms, you were injured and trapped on a dangerous planet with no one else to rely on. So, when your stomach rumbled that evening and he reluctantly told you that he only knew of one place for food in Mos Eisley, you finally agreed to follow him back into the cantina.

The prostitute from before scowled at you as soon as you entered, but to your surprise, the bartender just shook his head, as if he had been expecting this result all along.

“Evening, Luke,” he greeted him, sliding a glass of blue milk onto the counter as the Jedi took a seat, “I see you’ve made another friend.”

“Something like that,” he replied, and you knew he was grinning even though his hood covered his face, “Could we maybe do another sandwich, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Two?” he asked, and when Luke nodded, he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Think he’ll still serve me beer after I almost shot his customers?” you whispered, and Luke, of course, giggled.

“You need water. You shouldn’t drink with a concussion,” he chided, hand patting your knee like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your stomach flipped at the contact, and you almost fell out of the barstool when he kept his hand there, clutching his blue milk with the other.

The bartender emerged then, carrying two sandwiches. Luke thanked him and ordered you a water, much to your annoyance, and happily ate his sandwich with one hand. When the bartender returned, he brought out another dustcrepe. Luke perked up immediately.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much better these make me feel,” he said sincerely, cutting the dessert in half and sliding the plate over so you could reach it more easily.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he replied, “I appreciate your help around here.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to, but it wasn’t really your place to ask questions, seeing as you’d pulled a gun on two of his patrons yesterday. You also didn’t have a hard time believing that Luke would go out of his way to do something nice for the owner of a Mos Eisley cantina. It was incredibly on brand for him.

At some point, the bartender caught sight of Luke’s hand on your knee, and you were somehow even more embarrassed by this than the fact that you had threatened to kill his customers the day prior. You blushed furiously as the man raised a knowing eyebrow at you.

“He won you over,” he mused, a small grin playing at his lips, “Did he give you the shirt off his back?”

“His cloak,” you murmured, scowling and looking away. The bartender laughed, and Luke looked up from his dustcrepe to smile at you.

Although he had been right about everything else, there was one thing he’d gotten wrong.

“Nothing sweet ever came from Tatooine.”

It’s what he’d said the day prior while sheepishly asking for a dustcrepe. You’d thought the same until yesterday, but now, as he sat in front of you, you knew he was wrong.

After all, Luke himself had come from Tatooine. And what was he if not sweet?

Needless to say, you lingered on the planet long after your headache had subsided.

#luke skywalker #mark hamill #star wars #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker fluff #luke skywalker imagine #luke x reader #star wars imagine #mark hamill x reader #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #esb!luke #luke skywalker x you #luke skywalker headcanon #return of the jedi #rotj #rotj!luke

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obi-wan-kenobis-boxer-briefs · 4 months ago

Text

Sucking Luke Skywalker's Dick | Luke x Reader ⚡️💋

"How's that feel?" You look up at Luke, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. You must look so slutty like this...kneeling between his parted legs, drool running down your chin as you tease at his cock with the tip of your tongue. Luke is all but melting into the cockpit chair you've pushed him down into - a puddle of want and arousal as you toy with his dick. He's still got his shirt on - perfectly buttoned into place. But his pants are a disaster - hastily pulled down and bunched around his ankles.

His cock is everything you'd expect it to be - the perfect length with a flushed, sticky tapered tip. Your mouth waters as you stare at it - you bet it would feel oh so good to be pressed up deep inside of you. You want to climb on top of Luke right then and there and finally put an end to the stupid sexual tension that's been mounting between you for the past few weeks. You feel your core throb at the thought - riding Luke Skywalker bareback in the captain's chair of the Millennium Falcon? Now that would be a fun story to bring back to your friends at the rebel base.

"We shouldn't be d-doing this here." Luke stutters out, bringing you back to the present. "Han will kill us if he finds out..."

"Hmm." You shrug, giving his dick a few tugs with your hand. Luke shudders in response. "So we'll make sure he doesn't find out."

You lean down and take his cock into your mouth slowly, making sure to not let yourself get too carried away. You could be totally wrong about this - but you're fairly certain that Luke has little to no sexual experience. So you want to make this really, really good for him.

You're not usually one to take things slow - but Luke is totally worth the extra time and care. He's kind and funny and smart and he's been a great friend to you the past few months that you've been riding along with the Millennium Falcon crew on a mission for the rebels. Whenever you get homesick or nervous, Luke is always ready to lend a listening ear or to crack a joke. He's been such a reliable companion this whole time, and you never would have considered fucking him until...

Until you caught him jerking off in the shower.

It had been a month or two ago. You had been making a stop at one of the rebel bases hidden away on some far flung planet. The base had a few comfortable bunk rooms for you all to crash in with a shared bathing area. One night, most of the crew had been out socializing at the main part of the base while you had opted to stay behind and take a luxurious hot shower. As you entered the large bathroom, you heard some muffled noises coming from one of the shower stalls. You tiptoed towards the stalls, curious.

One of the showers was in use, and the occupant had left the stall door open a crack. They probably thought that everyone else had left to socialize. A deep moan reverberated through the room and you recognized the steady timber of Luke's voice. Oh my God. Your cheeks had reddened as you realized that Luke was pleasuring himself in the shower, and he had no idea that you were listening. You stood in silent shock for a moment - you should definitely leave, right? Luke had moaned a second time, clearly in the midst of a really great fantasy. You couldn't resist - you crept closer and got a good peak through the crack in the door, aaaaand...

Turns out, Luke is hot as fuck naked. Once you got a glimpse of Luke's toned, bare body....well, you certainly couldn't forget it. The way his face flushed as he pleasured himself. The length and weight of his perfect cock. His well defined abs and toned chest.

In the weeks that followed, you started to get flirty with Luke. Touching him every excuse you got, holding his gaze for longer than necessary...fantasizing about him at night. He seemed to genuinely love the attention - flirting back and basking in your presence. Before you knew it there was an unspoken tension built up between the two of you that you desperately wanted to break.

And now here you were - breaking that tension by sucking Luke's sweet cock into your tiny mouth.

You slowly swallow Luke's cock, taking him deep into your throat while maintaining merciless eye contact. He stares at you with those big blue farmer's boy doe eyes. As you take him deeper, he can't believe his fucking luck. He reaches out a hand and tentatively places it on top of your head, encouraging you. His touch is sweet, gentle. His hand is trembling.

He bottoms out, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat. You breathe in through your nose, resisting the urge to gag. You stay like that for a moment, letting him drink in the sensation of being fully sheathed in your mouth. And then you pull your lips back, sliding back up the shaft and towards his leaking tip. He exhales, a soft moan rumbling out of his chest at the sensation of your lips dragging across his cock. Your pussy pulses at the sound - you want to hear that moan every day for the rest of your life.

You release his cock with a pop! and work at him with your hand for a few beats, pulling and massaging at him while you catch your breath for a moment. He's biting his lip - no doubt biting back another moan.

"Luke. I want to hear how much you're enjoying this. Moan for me, baby." You grin up at him, continuing to work at his cock with your hand. You reach your free hand down to fondle his balls and his breath hitches at the unexpected sensation. You're going to absolutely ruin this man.

"I-I...gotta be quiet." Luke says, his face flushing red as you continue to play with him. "Can't get caught."

"If you say so." You wink at him before dragging your tongue along the underside of his cockhead. You hit a particularly sensitive spot and his eyes practically rolls back in his skull. A low keen escapes from the back of his throat, and you know you've got him hook, line and sinker. "You ready to cum?"

His eyelids flutter closed and all he can do is nod dumbly as you pick up your pace - gliding your hand up and down his cock. Base to tip.

You slide your lips around him and take in a mouthful of cock. You begin to bob your head furiously - sucking him in time with the motion of your hand stroking the base of his cock. The combination of your hand and your mouth together is enough to have Luke seeing stars. He lets out a ragged breath and you know he's getting close.

"Y/N...fuck..." You've never heard Luke curse before, and the word is music to your ears. You go even faster, an obscene slurping noise emanating from your mouth as you attempt to suck him dry. He lets out a noise of deep satisfaction, letting his head fall back into the headrest of the captain's chair. Blonde hair fluffs out behind him, staticky and bright against the chair's smooth leather. His hand in your hair quivers and jerks as you maneuver your mouth around his beautiful cock. His fuzzy thighs twinge and jerk under you as he gets closer and closer to his high. You double down on your efforts - picking up the pace, deepening the pressure.

"Y/N. Y/N! I'm going to...I need to...I can't..." He's talking absolute nonsense, unsure of what to do as his body tenses up to cum. His eyes fly open in surprise as he looks down at you, unsure of what to do. "Should I - ?"

You don't give him a chance to second guess himself - continuing to suck him off at a brutal pace. His hand in your hair tightens, grabbing a fistful of your tangled locks and pulling lightly. His other hand grips the chair's armrest with vigor. He's so fucking hot like this - all flushed and blissed out as he chases his high. Your panties are absolutely soaked and you try to commit this image of fucked-out Luke Skywalker to memory.

He tries desperately to pull you off his cock before he cums. He doesn't want to be rude, after all. You two never discussed your preference for this kind of thing - but lucky for Luke, you like to swallow. You hold fast, batting his hand away and letting him finish in your mouth. You can feel the orgasm rolling through him, and you try to pull every bit of pleasure you can out of him and down your throat. His thick cum hits the back of your throat in hot waves and once again you do your best not to gag.

As he finishes, he moans out your name over and over like he's reciting a prayer. You're not sure if Jedi are allowed to worship a deity - but the way he says your name makes you feel like some sort of goddess.

He groans when he's finished, his cock sensitive and spent. You slowly pull your mouth off of him, wiping the stickiness away with the back of your hand. You grin up at him - he looks absolutely wrecked. His hair is a mess, his face is red and flushed with a post-orgasm tinge of red. He looks absolutely beautiful like this. Your pussy is going to explode if you don't have this man inside you in the next ten minutes.

"Luke."

"Y-yeah?" His eyes are zoned out and he looks like he's on cloud 9.

"How long before you can get it up again?"

"What." His eyes refocus and he stares down at you in disbelief.

"How long before you can get this - " You reach out a finger and slide it along his soft cock. He shudders, it's sensitive. "- back up?"

"Um. Maybe ten minutes?" He says hesitantly, not sure what you're getting at. Are you going to make fun of him?

"Perfect." You get to your feet a bit shakily, dusting off your pants as you go. "Come on, we're going to my room. I'm gonna fuck you."

"Y-you're...what?" Luke's hastily pulling his pants back on, struggling to get to his feet. His legs look shaky and unbalanced - he's doing his best.

"I'm going to fuck you. I need your cock inside of me, like, yesterday." You walk away, moving towards the exit. You throw a cheeky look over your shoulder, watching him scramble to button his pants and follow you out towards your quarters. "Is that alright with you?"

"Oh yeah, absolutely." He nods his head a little too enthusiastically, blonde hair still mussed from the way he had been slumped in the cockpit chair. "You can do whatever you want with me."

"Whatever I want?" You say thoughtfully, leading the way towards your tiny room, towards your bed. "Oh, Luke. You shouldn't have said that." You unlock the door and beckon him inside. "Now take off your clothes - we've got a fun night ahead of us."

-----

End!

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phantomqa · 11 months ago

Text

What we really need is a femininomenon!!!!

Padme Amidala for president 2024

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221bshrlocked · 6 months ago

Text

Defenses

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 17,202 (apologies)

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Idiots in Love. Misunderstandings (that are addressed throughout). Overprotective Rex. Innocent touches turn Not-So-Innocent...Love Confessions. "Enthusiastic" Feelings. Dirty, Sweet Talk. Brief Oral (female receiving). Brief Hand Job. Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.

Summary: Under the assumption that your friend's Captain cannot stand the sight of you, you steer clear of him throughout the Life Day Celebrations. But when the diplomatic visit takes an unexpected turn, you're forced to act as bait so Anakin and Rex capture the assassin chasing after the Prince of Dondri. An accidental encounter on the final night of the mission brings clarity to certain matters for you...and reveals some of your own secrets to Rex.

Prompts: The Christmas ornament is supposedly enchanted. // Scene inspired by the image of a boat decked out in Christmas lights. // After the blizzard hits, they’re stuck together for a while, and they have to stay warm.

A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying their holidays. This gift is for the lovely @loving-the-cambridges who's also taking part of the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange . Your little prompts are fanfic heaven for me so I hope I incorporated them to your liking, albeit with the twists I made to them. And I am so so sorry for the slight delay friend!!! Happy Reading :D

P.S. It's overdue by a year but I'm also writing this for the @clonexreaderbingo challenge (which was about a year ago).

As the festivities continue, you look to the sky and find yourself meditating on the constellations twinkling high above the laughter and dancing. You wander along the edge of the celebrations, the sound of music and enthusiastic drinking fading into the background and pushing a smile onto your features. You watch as the 501st relax with the people of Dondri, and if you didn’t know better, you would think this was another normal rotation for them. But as all things, the joy goes as quickly as it comes when you look towards one particular member of the legion and find him standing near the Prince, his eyes scanning the crowd to ensure the safety of the royal family.

Maker, it truly was unfair how effortlessly attractive that man was. Whatever he was doing, even if he was merely lounging or standing quietly and doing nothing, he looked absolutely exquisite. And with every ounce of your being, you wished you were only physically attracted to him. But the opposite was true; the genuine dedication and care he upheld with everything that he did was what first caught your eye. Never have you met someone as tender and responsible as him. It would have been so much easier if you just found him objectively handsome, but like everything you’ve had to reevaluate recently, you knew whatever emotions stirring within you each time you are in his presence were based on more than his looks. It was such a dangerous thought process though, because for the first time since you were knighted, you genuinely debated ignoring the rules and confessing to him your feelings. He was everything you could ever want and so much more.

Too bad he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

It was so unfortunate, but perhaps it was for the best. Maybe if the feelings were mutual, things would have been more complicated, more so for him than for you. So much would have been at stake, the most important being his position and well-being. But a part of you secretly hoped that he, at least, tolerated working with you. And you would have thought he did, if it weren’t for the fact that he tended to leave every time you were in the same room. Each suggestion you made, he would meet with some bit of hostility, not disrespect, but just irritation at the prospect of carrying out your commands. It was horrible.

Yet it made you want him all the more. He had a sense of honor that he upheld more than most, a trait that was rare during these times. A characteristic that made you avoid him at every chance you could so as to not make him uncomfortable. You were not his General, but you were a General, one that he would have no choice but respect publicly. It made no sense to limit his whereabouts, certainly not during a time like this.

Which is how you found yourself walking away each time he joined your company. If you were discussing an issue or two with Anakin and he joined, you would excuse yourself, telling both men that they could handle whatever the problem was without your help. If you were playing sabbac with Fives and Kix, and he sat beside them, you would feign a headache and leave, letting them know that you would get some rest. And if you were hanging around the royal family, learning about the Life Day Celebrations on their planet and saw him walking towards you, you would let them know that you were to make rounds for the night and exit the room, not once looking back as you left him behind. Granted, it made things especially difficult since you needed to discuss much with the Prince and his sister, and he was, somehow, always around you when you were with them, but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him further.

Whatever grudge he held against you did not need to grow simply because of your ego.

No. It was best you watched him from afar. It had to be.

You make your way towards one particularly large tree, hiding behind it in order to look at the man without anyone noticing. Always putting his job before anything else, Rex stands firmly in his place, arms crossed in front of him and lips pouting in attention. You allow your eyes to move down his form, and silently curse yourself when you realize where your mind may be racing towards.

“Stare any harder and he might magically appear in front of you.” You shut your eyes and drop your face forward to hide the heated flush making its way towards your cheeks. Of course he knew where you’d be standing, and who you’d be daydreaming about.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the Prince about his involvement in the war?” You begrudgingly hiss at him, knowing that your reaction will be adding fuel to the fire.

“Shouldn’t you?” Anakin retorts instantly, making you wish you weren’t chosen for this mission.

“I would, except everyone on this planet is currently into their third cup of Corellian whiskey so I highly doubt anyone will be paying attention.” You finally turn around and face Anakin, already hating the smirk on his face when he notices how flustered you are.

“Funny, that’s exactly why I’m not talking to him either.” He steps in front of you and rests his weight on the tree, throwing back a cup of maker knows what before handing it to you.

“No, thank you.”

“You need it more than I do,” he shoves it one last time into your hands, nodding in victory when you take it and drink the rest of it down. You wince at the bitter taste but silently thank him for handing it to you. Neither of you say anything for a while, more entertained by the shenanigans of your men as they made absolute fools of themselves in front of the Dondrians.

“You should really talk to him.” The sentiment irritates you more than it should. You know he means well, but given the circumstances, and who you were, you found the suggestion a little insensitive.

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night.” You hand him back the cup, hand ensuring that your weapon is still on your hip before moving across the crowds. You don’t dare make eye contact with anyone, afraid they’d drag you into whatever game they were playing and force you to stay longer.

But as you strut past your friends, something slowly pushes against the back of your mind, nagging you until you halt in your steps and study the forest. You stare across the groups of celebrations, turning around just in time to see Anakin running through his men. You push through the drunk masses, and only when you’re a few steps away from the royal family do you hear the high-pitched sound of a blaster going off.

Without thinking much of the consequences, you sprint towards the upper table and violently shove Rex out of the way, shutting your eyes in pain when the blaster hits your side and barely misses the Prince and his sister. The joyful laughter quickly turns into panicked cries, and you look down at the two members of the family you were meant to be watching closely, praying to the maker that neither of them are injured or else this diplomatic journey would turn into a political nightmare.

“Are you hurt?” You ask them both, sighing in relief when they pat each other down and realize that neither of them were hit.

“Stay down,” you order the two of them, standing to your full height and igniting your lightsaber, but not before glancing to the side to make sure that Rex was unharmed. You feel your heart skip a beat when you find his eyes and see the anger swimming in them.

“Don’t leave their side,” you tell Rex before taking off, already regretting the argument you will surely have with him when everything calms down. As if you needed to give him more reasons to dislike you. You will yourself to focus on finding the assassin, stopping in front of a group of clones to see which of them can follow you.

“If you haven’t been drinking, follow me. The rest of you look after these people.” Five men stand to their feet at your command, already putting their helmets on to try and see where they should head. A part of you knows that you may have already lost this hunter in the crowd but you try to find him regardless, knowing that the celebrations may come to a halt and cause even more unrest with the Dondrians if you don’t at least try to find anything about him.

You run towards the cluster of trees high on the hills, certain that it was the best vantage point where you can see everything unfolding within the crowds. But with each step you take, you feel the wound on your side burn in anger, begging you to take a moment of respite before resuming any movement.

“You’ve been hit,” you don’t mean to snap at him, but Anakin’s remark sends you in a fit of irritation and you smack his hand away when he tries to move your robe to the side to get a better look at the bleeding gash.

“No shit, genius.” His eyes narrow at your tone, but you know he isn’t taking any offense to your little outburst. You’re about to head to higher ground when you feel a hand grab at your arm and pull you back.

“Enough, you and I both know we won’t find him. Not now at least. Come on.” He motions for his men to stand down, and they all look between you and him before they head down the hill first. As much as you hate to admit it, you know Anakin’s right, and you reluctantly sheath your lightsaber again before following him towards the calming throngs of people surrounding the royal family. As you bump into the soldiers, you do your best to refrain from reacting to the searing pain beating at your side, knowing that Anakin will make sure Kix doesn’t allow you to so much as breathe the wrong way. You couldn’t afford getting his attention, not when you could feel the eyes of a certain clone staring daggers into the back of your head as you paused and stood in front of him to speak with the Prince. You see him engage in a conversation with Anakin, worried at the prospect of anyone in his family getting hurt due to his recent change in political stance.

“While I can appreciate the importance of this issue, we need to get you inside.” You turn between him and your old friend, waiting quietly until they acknowledge your suggestion before moving behind them towards the gate of the city. Making sure that each member of the inner circle is accompanied by a couple of your men, you stay back to rest your side, turning your eyes to the sky in an attempt to focus on anything but the excruciating burning beating at your skin. You’re almost distracted too when you feel a hand rest on your back while another holds your upper arm.

“You need to go to medbay.” The calm, soothing voice of none other than the man you’ve been doing your best to avoid signals a wave of heat to course across your body, and before you can try and argue with him, you feel lightheaded, the adrenaline finally leaving your body completely with nothing but a faint memory of what had happened. You brace yourself on his shoulders, shaking your head and furrowing your eyebrows at him when you look up and see the angry grimace from before returning with a vengeance.

“If it’s all the same to you Captain, I think it’s best I just go and rest. No need for medbay.” You try to let go of his shoulders but as soon as you take a step back, your body sways and nearly falls over. His arms brace against him, and had you been a little more present, maybe a little more mischievous, you would have asked him to buy you dinner first. But you weren’t too conscious of what was happening, so you accept the help quietly, not bothering to say anything even when Kix comes around and supports your weight as well.

“With all due respect sir, Rex may not outrank you, but I do…when it comes to your wellbeing at least. Come on.” You miss the way he looks at Rex, and you definitely don’t notice Rex’s clenched jaw as he reluctantly lets go and makes sure you won’t fall over. And you unfortunately don’t see the look Rex gives you, guilty that you felt the need to push him out of harm’s way and take the hit instead.

The three of you walk in silence back to the city, and when you get to base, you glance back at Rex and frown when you see how angry he is with you. Had you been more aware however, you would have realized that he was not upset with you, but at this whole situation. As soon as you enter medbay, you lay down in one of the beds, hissing in pain when your lightsaber accidentally brushes the open gash on your side.

“Let me take this,” Rex moves to your side and attempts to grab your weapon, but you flinch at the sudden movement, eyes panicked at the prospect of not having your lightsaber with you, even though you were perfectly safe here.

“You don’t have to, I-”

“General, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” He sighs heavily, the reaction hurting you more than it should. Of course he thought you were a burden. He was probably supposed to be with Anakin but felt the need to remain by your side out of duty. You don’t mean to, but your hand falls back in defeat, eyes watering almost instantly at being such an inconvenience to him. If he notices the way you react to his words, he says nothing and approaches you slowly once more, as if he was walking towards a wounded, helpless animal. He says nothing as he unclips the lightsaber from your side and clasps it on his own belt.

“Rex, I need you to leave.” Kix interrupts as he walks towards you, pointing at the door so Rex could leave.

“Why?” You think he’s being a little defensive, but you brush the thought aside, knowing for a fact that there is no reason why the Captain of the 501st would want to stay behind just for you.

“Because it’s my job to take her armor off and treat her, not yours. Get out!” Kix is more assertive than before, and you shut your eyes to avoid looking at either of them as they continue to talk about you. Something shifts in the air but you choose to ignore it as well, barely managing to open your eyes and gaze at Rex when he whispers in return.

“I’ll be outside.” He looks at you as if the last thing he wishes to do is leave this room, and you’re not sure what prompts you to, but you nod in acknowledgement to let him know that you’re thankful for him, watching him exit the room, but not without looking back at you one last time. As the door slides shut behind him, Kix silently removes your armor and clothes, not bothering to say anything else as he begins cleansing the wound and suturing it.

You’re not sure how long you’re on that bed, but when the medic lets you know that he’s almost done, you realize that you’ve been clenching your hands the entire time. Relaxing your muscles completely, you thank him and sit up, waiting until he covers your side with a bacta patch before standing fully again.

“You know, if I have to stand around one more minute and watch the two of you act like…like fucking bantha, I might just shoot myself and be done with it.” Kix says with a smirk, not caring for your passive aggressive remark as he applies the patch and pushes a little too hard on the skin to get you to be quiet.

“You’re a medic Kix, not a therapist.”

“Yeah well, someone’s going to have to tell you both to get your heads out of your asses…respectfully sir.” Once again, you narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, not bothering to wait until he puts the armor back on before grabbing it and walking to the closest mirror to see what he’s done.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say in passing, irritated and confused by his choice in words.

“Sure you don’t.” You’re about to respond when he opens the door to the room and calls for Rex to come back. Surprisingly, it takes a few seconds for Rex to come and stand beside you again, studying your features as you look at the covered wound and try to see which movements hurt and which don’t.

“The wound isn’t too deep but it is pretty large. It should heal in the next few hours, assuming you switch the bacta patch and put on a new one. In the meantime, I’d suggest you don’t partake in any serious, physical activity…unless of course you’re with-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” You turn around quickly and snap at him, mentally patting yourself on the back when you see his smile drop instantly at the realization that he may have gone just a little too far. You quickly glance at Rex and find him confused at your outburst, but he says nothing and instead unclips the lightsaber from his belt and returns it to you. For a brief second, your fingers pass against his softly, and you feel chills run down your spine at how calloused and warm they felt against your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper your gratitude to Kix one last time before practically sprinting out of the room, feeling the frustration rise deep within your chest when you notice Rex falling into step with you. You had hoped that he wouldn’t follow you back, mostly because you were planning on visiting the Prince to ensure that he understands not to be seen by anyone until you’ve resolved this rather problematic hiccup.

“I’m sure there is something more worth your time Captain…you can leave if you wish.” You say assertively, praying to the Force that he reads between the lines and leaves you to your devices.

“If it’s all the same to you General, I think it’s best I make sure you return to your quarters safely.” You expected his response, but hearing it irks you more than you initially thought and you speed up in an attempt to distract yourself.

“While I appreciate your concern, I am of help to no one if I return to my rooms. Where’s Anakin?”

“He is with the Prince. Sir, I strongly request for you to return to your room.” Ever the Captain, he doesn’t budge once in his stance and catches up to you, going as far as taking a few more steps until he stops ahead and forces you to slow down.

“Captain, please.”

“You'll be helpful to no one if you can’t keep up.” He crosses his arms and stares straight into your eyes, not once caring for how you could easily write him up for insubordination.

“I need to see Anakin, I think I have a plan to catch this assassin.” You take a deep breath and relay your intentions to him, preparing yourself for an onslaught of questions and push back to the plan you have in mind.

“How do you know it’s an assassin and not a bounty hunter?” You notice the way his body language shifts from defensive to a more curious, even docile manner.

“No one in their right mind would come to Dondri during the Life Day Celebrations just to kidnap a member of the royal family. Also, I’m fairly certain he was aiming straight at his head.”

“And how do you plan on catching him?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, making you wish he wasn’t standing so close to you so you’re affected by every little detail you keep observing about him. Shaking the thought aside, you take advantage of his distracted mind, walking around him and continuing towards the royal palace.

“By giving him exactly who he wants.”

“Sir, please.” He calls out to you one last time, this time with an exasperated sigh that you wish was out of care and not duty.

“Captain, your request is noted.” You turn around one last time against your better judgement, watching closely as Rex’s pout deepens before he switches his attention to the ground. You study him then, wondering why he was suddenly so intent on your well being. It’s not as if he never showed any concern before, but there was something strange now, something you chalked up to what you did earlier.

You almost tell him to accompany you to Anakin, but then remember what he might say when he finds out what you have in mind to catch this man. Footsteps echo in the hallway as you practically run to Anakin, and you’re glad when you find him standing alone outside the Prince’s quarters. He looks up when he hears the frantic stomps growing closer, his expression falling as soon as he realizes it’s you approaching him.

“Wow, you should be resting. What are you doing here?” He’s half-concerned, half-surprised, the faint lines of a smile betraying how irritated he is at seeing you.

“I think I know how to catch this guy.” You straighten up, gazing at your friend until his apprehensiveness gives way to genuine interest.

“I’m listening.” Anakin pushes away from the wall, eyes narrowing at you as he turns fully to face you.

“I highly doubt he will want to try again in such a crowded place so he will definitely wait till the Prince is by himself.” You step closer to him, anchoring your thoughts to the best of your abilities as the pain in your side begins to return once more.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He shakes his head strongly, frowning at whatever idea you had in store for him.

“Listen. We will give him what he wants, or at least, what he thinks he wants.” Anakin’s gaze shoots up then, and you watch the moment his confusion turns into a deep interest and desire to solve the issue.

“Elaborate.” His jaw is tight, and you brace yourself for whatever reaction he gives when you tell him about your idea.

“He knows how important his Celebration is, and he also knows that part of it involves the King-to-be going out into the lake and offering blessings to the gods on behalf of his subjects. So, we make him think the Prince is actually going out there.” Your voice is low but even, pausing in your explanation to gauge Anakin’s reaction.

“You’re suggesting a decoy?” His gaze is steady but you don’t budge, not wanting to give him any reason to think you are unready or reluctant to lead the mission.

“Yes, I am.” You nod confidently, glancing behind you and biting into your cheek when you see Rex walking toward the two of you.

“So the Prince will be safe in his quarters the whole time.”

“Yes,” you exhale through your nose, bracing yourself for the question you’re sure will be asked at any moment now.

“And who’s the lucky guy that will replace him?” He throws his hands up then, as if to say he doesn’t agree with the plan but has no choice.

“Me.” You don’t flinch as you respond immediately, shutting your eyes to calm yourself when you hear Rex’s outburst next to you.

“No.”

“Pardon me?” You turn to face him, not bothering to control your aggressive tone as you ask him to repeat himself. Rex can tell you don’t appreciate his response, passively shaking his head and glancing between you and Anakin to try and indirectly ask your friend for help.

“I…don’t think that’s wise.” He repeats again, and you miss the way Anakin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t shoot me, but I think I agree with Rex on this one.” It’s Anakin’s turn to pitch in, his voice harder than before and making you wish you didn’t get easily rattled by such minimal details.

“Well, good thing I outrank the both of you.” You know better than to say something so superficial, and you shrug your shoulders when Anakin replies straight away with an annoyed lilt in his voice.

“You don’t outrank me!”

“Okay, yes but…you’re still healing. I’m all for taking risks-” You cut him off then, not appreciating the hypocrisy of his words and actions.

“But not when it’s someone else?” Standing your ground, you meet his gaze and search his face for any sign of hesitation, knowing that he has already agreed to your suggestion when he shifts his weight and pretends to still think about it.

“Why not me?” He asks quietly, the question meant less to argue and more to keep the peace.

“Because I’d rather we take this guy alive. Sorry Ani, but I don’t exactly guarantee the outcome with you.” You feel bad for critiquing his tactics but you don’t back down, wanting him to know that you prepared to see this to the end.

“Fair enough.”

“Good, you can tell the Prince our plan. Make him address the people in an hour, something along the lines of ‘he won’t be bullied out of his duty’ and then we can head down to the lake.” Stepping aside, you walk around both men while telling them what to do, wanting to deal with this hiccup as soon as possible so you can address the real reasons behind your visit to the planet.

“Where are you going?” Anakin asks, gesturing between himself and the room behind him.

“Get dressed. I need to look the part.”

Going back to your room, you do your best to think of the task at hand, but with every question you ask yourself, you find your thoughts shifting towards Rex. A part of you wishes he only objected because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt, but the more irrational side of your brain is convinced it’s only because he doesn’t trust your judgement. You’ve never given him any reason to doubt your abilities, so you aren’t sure why he still can’t accept your discernment.

As you step into the room, you strip down and walk towards your case, bringing out a new pair of robes and placing them on the bed. You make your way to the refresher and freshen up, doing your best to put the discomfort in your side out of your mind. When you hear the sound of the broadcasting, you forgo switching the bacta patch and get dressed quickly, afraid Anakin will move ahead without you. You return to the Prince’s quarters in record time, hood placed over your head to shield you from any prying eyes not meant to know it’s you. Stopping in front of Anakin, you make sure there are guards posted inside and outside the royal rooms, quickly letting him know that none of the servants know the plan to avoid anyone saying anything to the wrong person.

“You ready?” Anakin asks, leaning into your space to gauge your reaction while pretending to protect you as you walk towards the nearby lake.

“Let me get back to you on that.” You chuckle in response, pretending your attention isn’t on the annoyed Captain flanking your other side.

“Hey, it was your idea.” Anakin straightens up once more, eyes studying the slowly growing crowds seeing you to the lake

“It sure was.” Your answer is clipped, mostly because you can tell that Rex isn’t getting any calmer beside you.

“I hate this.” The three words are whispered, yet the way in which Rex says them makes you wish you could ask him here and now when he was so adamant on letting you know he doesn’t agree with your decision.

“You have something on your mind Captain?”

“Yes, loads as a matter of fact.” It’s the first time Rex answers in such an abrupt, curt manner. Before, he used to offer a silent apology if he spoke out of line, but seeing his anger sizzle deeper with each step you took towards the lake makes you all the more irritable.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you.” You answer monotonously, not bothering to hide how vexed you feel from the constant bickering with him.

“Hey guys, as much as I appreciate your flirting, let’s focus here. You’ll be on the boat by yourself and we won’t be anywhere near until we see someone coming towards you. If things take a turn and you find yourself in a particularly awkward position, just push this button and we’ll come to you.” The two of you face Anakin, and while Rex looks away embarrassingly, you stare at your friend, silently telling him to watch himself and not test you.

“That won’t be necessary, I’m going with her on the boat.” The ease with which Rex replies grabs your attention right away, and it’s your turn to be at the receiving end of his sheepish expression. You wonder if he knows how uneasy he looks returning your gaze.

Or how unfairly handsome he is as he leaves no room for discussion.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” He doesn’t blink once, meeting your adamance with a stubbornness you’ve never seen before.

“Captain, if he sees you coming on the boat, he will not come.” Anakin tries to alleviate the tension but neither of you back down, wanting the other to step away first.

“I’m not taking a chance with you. And…he won’t see me coming on the boat, not if I swim out to you and climb on.” The firmness with which he explains himself nearly makes you think there’s more to this offer than meets the eye, and you forgo proprietary to ask him what he means by not wanting to take a chance with you.

“Captain, you’re-”

“Why do you constantly make things difficult for me?” He cuts you off then, the swift question quiets you immediately and forces you to look ahead, away from the company surrounding you.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Anakin whispers and you hate how he always wants to get the final word in. You walk the rest of the way in absolute silence, your mind flickering with hope at the prospect of Rex feeling anything other than despise for you.

“We’re here.”

“Good luck.” Anakin snaps you out of your haze as he readies the boat, and you nod at him before stepping onto it. You undo the rope, and make your way to the front of the swaying sail, not bothering to turn around when you feel it moving softly through the water. You focus on the dark body of water ahead of you, looking up to the sky and marveling at the twinkling stars as they shine above you. Only when you hear faint scratching at the hull of the boat do you remember what you’re supposed to do. Waiting until the boat is angled ahead and away from the shore, you turn on the comm link and step forward to see where Rex is hanging on.

“Are we far enough from shore?” You ask Anakin, praying you receive an affirmative answer quickly so Rex can get out of the cold water.

“Yes,” Anakin gives you the go-ahead, and you pull the hood of your cloak higher before turning on the lights around the boat to offer a brief distraction.

“Permission to come on board, General?” Rex asks strenuously, and you wonder if this is his attempt at being civil.

“Granted, come up before you freeze to death.” He pulls himself up right away, and you point to the small room in the lower deck, not wanting him to be seen by anyone that may be watching you.

“Stay low.” You whisper to him, wishing you could take your cloak off and offer it to him so he can get warmer.

The slow rocking of the boat lulls you into a fake sense of peace, and you force yourself to remain passive to the presence of the man behind you. The lights flicker softly around you, and when you lean over to touch one of the ornaments hanging on the cords, a shooting pain coursing across your abdomen prevents you from moving so much as a muscle.

“How’s your side?” Rex notices you wincing and almost approaches you, but you shake your head to prevent him from coming up the deck.

“It’s fine.” You clench your fists tightly as you right yourself, not wanting to appear suspicious. It’s quiet for a few minutes before you decide to return whatever civility Rex was attempting to offer you.

“Hmm, it’s quite beautiful out here.” Your eyes are glued to the night sky, completely missing the way Rex longingly gazes at you when he agrees.

“Yes, it is.” A shiver runs down your spine at the low, whispered tone of his voice, and when you turn your attention towards him, you find him shaking from the cold air seeping through his armor.

“You’re cold.” There’s an apology at the tip of your tongue, and Rex must see how bad you feel about this because he shrugs his shoulders and tells you otherwise.

“I’ll manage.”

“You shouldn’t be here. I really don’t understand why you were adamant on coming with me.” It’s not what you want to say to Rex, far from it. But you know for a fact you can’t be straightforward and ask him why he didn’t back down and decided to join you.

“It is my job to protect you.” Again, you’re thrown off by how soft and docile he sounds, and it takes every ounce of control in your body to not turn around and stare into his eyes as you ask him the next question.

“Job? Is that the only reason why you’re here?”

“Y-yes. Why else would I turn down shore leave?” Had he not hesitated, you would have believed him and dropped the subject. But something about the way he becomes defensive makes you think there may be another reason he isn’t too keen on sharing.

“What I don’t understand is why you would turn down shore leave to serve with someone you can’t stand the sight of. That’s what I don’t understand.” You know better than to bring attention to the bantha in the room, but you figure if you addressed the animosity, he might finally tell you why he isn’t your biggest fan. The last thing you expect, though, is the defensive retaliation he exudes in response.

“Can’t stand? Who…who are you talking about?”

“Come on Captain, feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you.” You huff in frustration, not wanting to elaborate further and make this any more awkward.

“With all due respect sir, you are not making any sense.” He chuckles then, and as beautiful as the sound is, it sets your teeth on edge. How dare he see this as a laughing matter?

“It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you find it barely tolerable to be in the same vicinity as me. So I ask again, why did you miss out on a much deserved break to be here?” Against your better judgment, you turn around and face him, not caring for anything happening outside this moment.

“What gave you the impression that I can’t stand you?” Rex stands up and takes a step up towards you, the smile on his face falling instantly when he realizes that you weren’t joking. You were being dead serious. And you definitely believed everything you just said to him.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that anytime we’re in the same room, you find it difficult to stay for more than a few minutes before leaving. Or…or how you constantly meet each one of my tactical suggestions with an unfavorable reaction. Or the fact that you treat me like a child when I’ve clearly proven myself capable of handling any tough situation with ease. Any of these ring a bell?” You’re breathing heavily, unable to look away from him even though you wish you could be anywhere else but in front of the man that has simultaneously inspired so many mixed emotions ever since he came into your life.

“I- I’m…” He hesitates, and you almost feel bad for throwing so much at him at such an inopportune time. When his frown deepens and his eyes shift to the ground, you shake your head and return to observing the lights all around the boats. You envy the little balls of light, wishing you were one of them as they continued to flicker and not give a single care to anything happening around them.

“I am sorry…for ever making you feel all those things when they are the farthest from the truth.” His words cut through you like a long, thin needle, and you find yourself reluctantly turning around to face him once more, wanting to make sure you weren’t imagining what he just admitted.

“I hold you in the highest regard General, and if I ever push back on your commands, it’s never out of respect, but concern. Pure concern.” He swallows nervously, waiting until he has your undivided attention before continuing to confess his own doubts.

“If anything, I feel as if you’ve been actively avoiding me this entire week. With each turn, you somehow find an excuse to leave before I can join your company.” The revelation is enough to set your heart racing, and you have to shut your eyes to focus on calming yourself as you address his impression.

“I- well I just thought that I was bothering you and I figured it wouldn’t make sense if you felt limited simply because I’m around. I wanted to give you the freedom to do whatever you desired, without me standing in the way.” It’s your turn to clear the ruminating misunderstanding, and only when Rex responds shyly do you realize that you’re the source of months and months of misjudgment.

“I see.” Rex is defeated, and you wish you hadn’t brought this up while you’re in the middle of the mission because you want nothing more than to join him down in the lower deck and tell him how sorry you are for causing him to question himself.

“It seems you have every right to think me unfit to lead after all. All these assumptions lead to months of misunderstandings, all because of me.” You break the silence, trying your best to not let either of your revelations bring tears to your eyes. You fist your hands tightly to hold yourself back from doing something that might make him uncomfortable.

“Never, I’d never think that of you.” He meets your eyes instantly, shaking his head and waiting until you accept his peace offering before moving back down to the lower deck.

“I guess it’s best if we just…start fresh.” You say with a faint smile, feeling your chest collapse slowly when Rex returns the smile and nods in agreement.

“As you wish, sir.”

The night air shifts following those four simple words, and you blink a few times at Rex before returning to your place. You’re not sure how long you’re on that boat, but when the wind picks up, you hope things don’t take a turn for the worse before you catch the assassin who, up until a few minutes ago, you were convinced would have already come to you. Rex is awfully quiet and when you glance behind you, you see him holding a small ornament in his hand, the shape of which is unclear until he looks up and notices you staring at him. He shyly shows it to you, and you smile at him when you note what it is.

“Gorgeous bird, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” He gazes at the delicate ornament, its red surface shimmering with flecks of gold and crimson under the soft glow of the night sky and the lights dusted all around the boat.

“It’s a phoenix, a legendary bird that captivates whoever comes across it in the wild with its vibrant colors and remarkable life cycle.” You watch as Rex marvels at how something so small could evoke such warmth, wondering if he knows that he inspires similar feelings in you.

“It’s particularly special to the Dondrians because it’s believed to have originated on their world. Its symbolism of renewal and immortality makes it the perfect representation of what Life Day means to them.”

“What do you mean?” Gently, he turns it in his hands, unwilling to let go of it as he hangs it back where he found it, completely enchanted by its quiet beauty and whom it reminds him of.

“Well, it lives for several hundred years until it reaches a point where it builds a nest of aromatic wood and sets itself ablaze.” You can tell your words surprise him because he looks from you to the small ornament of the bird, face falling at the thought of a bird practically ending its own life.

“It…it kills itself?”

“Yes, and no. As the flames consume it, it is reborn from its own ashes, emerging more radiant and young than before. This cycle of death and rebirth represents the very idea of Life Day…of destruction coming from new life, of the importance of transformation, resilience, and hope. The way it embraces its own death and resurrection encourages others to embrace change and look forward to new beginnings.” The way in which he seems to hold on to every single word you say lights a little blaze of hope deep in your soul, and you pray to the maker that whatever change in your relationship lasts long after tonight comes to an end. Rex nods in understanding, trailing his fingers across the glass bird before switching his attention to similar ornaments hanging all around the two of you.

“They say any representation of the phoenix is supposedly enchanted.” You don’t want the conversation to end, and your smile widens when you see how suddenly interested Rex is in the bird’s mythology.

“Enchanted?”

“Hmm. If you hold that ornament in your hand and wish for anything…anything in this universe, it will fall right into your lap soon after and mark the beginning of a new chapter.” Not even a second later, Rex is taking the phoenix in his hand once more, shutting his eyes and murmuring something to himself. You watch with fascination how utterly captivated he is by the sentiment, and you wonder what he could possibly wish for so quickly. When his eyes flutter open and he finds you already staring at him, he puts the ornament down and stands up, his facial expression turning a lot more serious than a moment ago.

“Sir, I-” “Heads up, someone’s coming.” Anakin cuts him off and you curse the timing of your guest’s arrival. You shut the comm link off completely, mouthing a quick apology to Rex as he moves out of sight while preparing his blaster. You face away from the sound of the approaching boat and pretend to flinch as soon as you hear a loud crashing sound signal the arrival of your wanted man.

“You’re dumber than they told me, more conceited too.” The accent is not lost on you, and you file that little bit of information for later. The wind howls across the water, and you begin to move but hear a warning that prevents you from facing the assassin.

“Ah ahh, turn around slowly.” You hold your hands up as you obey the command, no longer bothering to hide yourself as you fully face him. His breath, a lot calmer than now, comes in short, panicked bursts. His expression falls completely, and you can tell you were the last person he was expecting to see from the fearful air about him.

“You? Where…where is the Prince?” The smirk you could hear before no longer tugs at his lips, his tone more taunting than now that he knew his mission is not possible.

“Like you said, it would have been extremely absurd if we allowed him to come out here by himself.” His eyes widen in horror, and you tilt your head slightly, hesitating to say more when his figure trembles at the mere sight of you.

“You’re a Jedi! You’re the one who saved him.”

“Don’t try anything, you’re surrounded and it won’t be easy to escape.” You reply coolly, gaze sharp and unwavering as recognition flashes across his face.

“This doesn’t have to end badly. Tell me who hired you.” You raise your hand slightly, a subtle warning that you hope he would take to heart and not test. His shoulders sag at the dangerous lilt in your voice, his breathing growing more erratic at the thought of being your captive.

“I- I can’t.” Sweat glistens on his brow as you meet his aggression with an eerie calmness.

“We can help you, please.” Your voice is softer now, still firm but not as menacing as before. Taking a step closer to him, you try to impose some sense of tranquility, but his jaws only tighten, his gaze farting around the empty lake in an attempt to find an answer to his predicament.

“No, you can’t. No one can…if I don’t kill the Prince, he’ll kill me.” His voice cracks, and you watch as his eyes glisten with something between terror and acceptance of what will surely happen now that he failed in his mission.

“Who?” Your question is followed by a panicked raising of the blaster to your head, and before you can give him another warning glance, you hear Rex ascend behind you, blaster aimed at the man’s head and fingers ready to pull the trigger.

“Don’t even think about it.” Rex’s tone adds fuel to the fire, the tension rippling along with the waves hitting the hull of the ship.

“Stand down Captain.” You turn your gaze to Rex, not wanting him to make matters worse.

“I can’t do that sir.” Rex’s voice is tight, and he doesn’t bother meeting your eyes, knowing that if he were to look at you, the man in front of him might take the distraction as an advantage.

“He’ll kill me, he’ll kill all of us.” The words tumble out in a frenzy, making you fist your hands tightly in discomfort. You ignore Rex for the time being, slowly stepping towards the assailant to try and calm him down once more.

“Just tell me who he is and I will make sure you’re safe.” Your voice cuts through the hysteria for a second, and you think you can manage to make him put the blaster down without controlling him, but then he whisks the blaster away from you and towards Rex, the reaction instantly making you see red.

“No, you’re all dead. We’re all dead.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This conversation is between you and me, not him.” Your tone drops, no longer friendly or soothing, but searing with displeasure at the sudden change of events.

“I’m warning you, this doesn’t have to turn ugly.” You try one last time to make him put the blaster down, but sensing the shift in his demeanor, you light your lightsaber just as he shakes his head in madness and readies the blaster. There’s something strange about the way he continues to look up at the lightning shining across the sky, and you follow his line of sight to see if someone is approaching. His panicked movement increases as the crashing sound of thunder increases, and you narrow your eyes at him, unsure of why he was reacting so drastically to the weather. You find yourself lacking sympathy for him, not because of what he’s done, but because of what you see he’s about to do.

“It’s done, we’re- we’re all d-”

You don’t let him finish, sending your lightsaber straight into his chest before dragging it back to your hands. Neither you nor Rex say anything for a moment, and only when you feel the boat rock violently do you finally snap out of the momentary haze you’re in and tell Rex to hold onto something.

“Pfassk, we need to get back to shore before this storm drowns us.” You’re afraid to look at Rex, unsure of what you’d find swimming in his eyes, if he’s disappointed, shocked or simply disturbed by how easily you took the man’s life. You reach out to the lake bank, focusing on bringing the sail closer to dry land as quickly as possible out of fear of putting Rex’s life and your own in any more danger. It takes longer than you like, but as soon as you reach Anakin, you exit the boat and remove your cloak, quickly handing it over to Rex before asking the others to drag the dead body away.

“What happened?”

“He was manic…violent.” Rex answers Anakin’s question when you remain quiet, and as Anakin tries to learn anything from the soulless body, you stop pacing behind him and apply pressure to your side, the lack of adrenaline making way for a familiar, stabbing pain.

“This fucking weather happened. He- maker, he would have listened to me. He would have, but the lightning terrified him. It was almost as if he thought it was after him.”

“So you killed him?” Anakin holds his hands up in question, not understanding why you changed your mind when you were the one who told him why you had to be on that boat, and not him.

“No, I killed him because he aimed his blaster the wrong way.” Your voice is almost unrecognizable to you, and you watch as your old friend shrugs his shoulders before telling his men to take away the body.

“We need to leave, or else we’ll get caught in this storm.” You remind them one last time, waiting until they start moving before turning around and looking to gauge Rex’s reaction to this whole ordeal.

“Tell the Prince they can resume their festivities tonight if they wish. Assuming this doesn’t turn into a blizzard.” You tell Anakin, who nods in agreement and sprints ahead, not wanting to waste any more time outside now that the problem was “solved.”

“You don’t think there’ll be another?” Rex asks and you shake your head instantly, elaborating on why you think there isn’t another assassin running around.

“No, whoever is behind this wouldn’t take the chance. One wouldn’t talk, two is too high a probability.” You meet his eyes for longer than you deem appropriate, and when he looks away first, you study your surroundings before heading behind Anakin, towards the royal palace.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room, I think diplomacy can wait till tomorrow. Good night Captain.” You don’t bother turning around as you respond to him, knowing that you won’t be able to hold back from apologizing for your actions if you see an unfavorable expression aimed at you.

An oddly familiar warmth engulfs you the farther you walk away from Rex, and it’s only when you’re back in your room that you realize what that sensation is. You’re confused as to how you could possibly be receptive to Rex’s feelings, but it occurs to you that you may be feeling a fraction of his own emotions simply because he’s allowing you to. Of course it may be unintentional on his side, but be that as it may, a part of him is so in tune with you that the Force decided to connect you to each other, or at least, make you respond to him on a much deeper level than you ever thought possible.

You stand in the middle of your quarters, recalling every single word you’ve exchanged with Rex during the past rotation. As upset as you are with how certain things turned out, you come to appreciate them all, especially the fact that the two of you were sent on this mission together. You were finding the Life Day Celebrations extremely difficult to enjoy because of your relationship with the Captain, but if anything was proven in the past few hours, it’s that the time of year was truly on your side.

You make your way to the refresher and find the bacta patch Kix gave you earlier, sighing irritatingly when you realize you forgot to change it. You strip off your clothes and stand in front of the mirror, biting into your cheek as you remove the bacta patch and throw it away. You find the wound almost healed, and you thank the maker you wouldn’t have to deal with it for a longer period. Letting it breathe for a few seconds, you walk around and turn on the hot water, wanting to bathe in a nice, warm bath before whatever you will have to do tomorrow. You move back to the mirror and unsheath the replacement patch, slowly applying it on your skin, and shivering when the cold chemicals make contact with the wound and the skin surrounding it.

Unbeknownst to you, Rex has debriefed with Anakin and was already heading your way, wanting to make sure that you made it back safely and weren’t in need of anything. He hesitates for a long moment before knocking softly on your door several times, and when he doesn’t hear a response, he unlocks the door and walks in, taking in the small space before calling out for you again. He frowns at the lack of response, knowing that you were in much need of a good night rest. The room is dim, illuminated only by the light filtering through the windows behind the bed. Thinking that you didn’t make it back yet, he’s about to exit when he hears your groans echo through the refresher.

“Sir?” Rex tries, and when your whines only grow louder, he takes out his blaster and readies himself for whatever threat is in the refresher with you. The muffled sounds only grow, and he’s alarmed at the prospect of what he might find when he barges in. Taking calculated steps across the room, he finds the door to the refresher slightly ajar, and as soon as the quiet moan of discomfort reverberates in his ears, he takes two quick strides and pushes the door open, scanning the room in an attempt to find the source of your pained grunts. When he sees you standing half-naked in the middle of the refresher, with your hands massaging the skin around the wound, he lowers his blaster and shuts his eyes, cursing at his lack of sensibility.

“Ahh kriffing hells. Oh maker, I- I’m sorry General. I thought that you were harmed and- pfassk.” Rex stammers through an apology, his face growing heated at catching you in such a vulnerable state. The tub beside you is half-full, and Rex feels his armor tightening around his crotch, images of you moaning in ecstasy as the water relieved all of your pain making him wish he was anywhere else but here.

“That’s okay Rex,” you cut him off when you see his face burning with embarrassment, and you do your best to not dwell on the heat from before suddenly wrapping around you like a tight, weighted blanket. It’s endearing how shy he is being with you, and you’re about to giggle at his overreaction when you turn around and find his eyes set on you. There’s a different expression on his handsome features now, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, unsure of why he was looking at you in such an intimate way.

“What?” You decide to ask, knowing that things couldn’t possibly get any more awkward than they already have.

“I’ve never heard you say my name before.” The comment throws you off guard, and you look around the foggy room, hoping to find a response written somewhere. You meet his gaze again, and notice his body language relax, as if the sound of his name on your lips was all he needed to hear to grow more comfortable with you.

“That can’t be true.” You know he’s not wrong, but you are also aware that you’ve called his name about a thousand times in the privacy of your room. You’ve called his name more often than you care to admit, but he had no way of knowing that, not when, up until a few hours ago, he genuinely thought you disliked him.

“Believe me, I would remember it if you did.” He chuckles at you, the sound far from humorous and fully self-deprecating. There’s nothing comforting you can say to him, and you rub your temples to alleviate the sudden throbbing ache circling around your head. When he doesn’t move, you walk across the room to shut off the running water, distracting yourself from the predicament you now found yourself in.

“Is there something you needed, Captain? I’m not exactly dressed for a debriefing but we’ll have to make do.” You stand up and motion around the room, wanting to get this over with so you can drown in self-pity when you’re left alone.

“No General, I only wanted to- well, I came here to see if…” He’s tripping over his words, and it would be endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he just indirectly admitted to you what he felt when you called his name.

“I know I’m not exactly being professional here but, since when do you get so tongue-tied around me?” You test the waters against your better judgement, wanting to see how far you can take this before one of you cracks. Rex shakes his head in defeat, and you realize that there’s no point in taking this any further, not when the man in front of you refused to cross the professional boundaries setting you apart. You couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, here’s the thing Rex. I am freezing cold, and from what I’ve heard, the water won’t stay heated for a long time, especially during this weather. So until you decide what you want to do here, I will be getting in.” You take your slippers off and take a few steps around the tub, completely missing the puddle that collected from the flowing water.

“CAReful!” Rex is behind you in the blink of an eye, arms caging you against his chest to prevent you from slipping and hurting yourself. You grab onto his arms to right yourself but the floor is too wet, and you find yourself awfully closer to him than a second ago. You meet his gaze and are suddenly mesmerized by the hazel green of his eyes, the ones you can barely see around his dilated pupils.

“Kriff, that would have been a really bad fall. Thank you.” Your attempt at a joke is met with a serious expression, and you drop the smile when Rex slowly steps away from the slippery floor to help you stand up. He lets go of you as soon as you stand up, and you find yourself a little hurt at how quickly he wants to step away from you.

“For a Jedi, your reflexes sure are slow.” The comment is far from insulting, meant to diffuse the tension rising due to the circumstances, but for some reason, your mind decides to make things worse and respond with a statement that is far from harmless.

“I guess we’re even now.” Rex’s expression falls as he continues staring at you, and he doesn’t dare say anything in return as he walks around you and makes his way out of the refresher. Something in the way he seems to be genuinely hurt by your comment makes you run after him and pull his arm to prevent him from leaving. He stops but doesn’t face you, and you suspect it may be because he is angry with how you make light of such a crucial moment.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t- don’t be mad at me. I know we barely resolved our misunderstanding but I- I just… just don’t leave.” Your voice cracks as you practically beg him to stay, and only when he takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders slightly do you finally let go of him.

“You think I’m angry with you?” He turns around slowly and frowns at you, questioning your apology in a way that makes you think you were completely in the wrong.

“Aren’t you?” You nervously play with your fingers, looking away from him when you can’t bear the scrutiny of his hurt impression any longer.

“No, maker no. I have never once, in my life, felt anything other than respect for you.” He reaches out for you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders to make sure you are listening to every word he’s saying.

“Oh,” unfortunately for Rex, you misunderstand his confession and sag your shoulders in disappointment. Of course he wouldn’t feel anything more for you. Why would he? You’ve given him no reason to feel a fraction of what you’ve felt for him for so long.

“I am not angry with you, mesh’la. I am angry at the prospect of you thinking my life is more important than yours, at you forgoing your principles just to save me.” Rex sees the way you shift uncomfortably, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. His gaze is steady, and you can’t help but return it when you see the fierce protectiveness he’s exuding, one you had not expected to encounter in such an intimate setting.

“You- you jumped in harm’s way to save me, not even thinking of your own well-being. And later…on the boat, I saw the way you changed when he aimed his blaster at me.” He clarifies further, the revelation sending goosebumps down your arms and forcing you to step closer to him. You furrow your eyebrows at the implication behind his words, placing your hands on his chest without caring for any repercussions.

“Of course I did, what else would you expect me to do?”

“Not sacrifice yourself for someone like me.” His answer comes in heated, and the level of hurt you feel rising in your throat makes you push him away from you.

“What do you mean ‘someone like you’?” You snap at him, shaking your head in disbelief at what you’re hearing from him of all people.

“I’m not as important as you are. I’m replaceable.” Rex must not expect such a reaction because he steps towards you right away, grabbing both of your wrists to speak words that he doesn’t realize hurt you more than him.

“You- you think your life isn’t worth mine? Why…why would you even say that Rex? What makes you think you can even believe something so far from the truth?” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at him, voice trembling with emotion at the thought of Rex believing something absolutely false. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to find the right words as you melt into his arms.

“Because I’m that one that should protect you. I should be the one making sure you’re safe.” He finally replies, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Again, it must not be the right thing to say because you only get more annoyed, fisting your hands and slightly pushing on his chest to keep his attention.

“I hate to break it to you but that’s a two-way road, Rex. If I had to, I would do it again.” You say matter of factly, wanting him to fully understand that you don’t see yourself as any more important than him.

“Why?” He lets go of your shoulders and slides his hands down your arms, enveloping your fists in the palms of his hands.

“Because I- I’m your…” His grip tightens around you as you struggle to tell him what you feel for him. You avoid his eyes but he tugs you into his chest and makes sure you’re looking at him before he interrupts you.

“What? You’re my General? You want me to believe you’re willing to die for me, or even change your own rules because you’re my superior?”

“N-no…it’s not just that.” You shake your head, knowing that you should tell him the truth regardless of how difficult it can be for you.

“Then tell me.” He begs softly, leaning into you until he touches his forehead with your own. The warmth of his skin sets you on fire, making you wish you could just confess to him and deal with the consequences later.

“Tell me why you’d risk your life for mine.” Rex’s eyes soften as he shuts them completely, and if you weren’t so held up on whether his feelings were mutual or not, you would have understood what he was trying to tell you through the intimate gesture.

“I can’t.”

“Tell me cyar’ika.”

“Rex, I-”

“Tell me me’suum’ika…please.” He cuts you off then, his pleading storming your heart with waves of emotions so overwhelming that you have no choice but to give him what he wants.

“Because if anything were to happen to you, my life will be over.” You admit, voice shaking with fear and relief at finally letting go of the secret you’ve held onto for months.

“Mesh’la,” the word is whispered with a warmth and gentleness that shake you to your core, and you finally open your eyes to look at him, finding nothing but adoration and tenderness staring right back at you.

“Rex.”

“I can’t protect you tonight.” His gaze is…it’s more intense than you’ve ever seen, but it’s unwavering as it descends to your lips and refuses to attend to anything else.

“Hmm?” You’re confused by his choice in words, caught even more off guard by the weight of them as you try to make sense of what he wants to tell you.

“I said…I can’t protect you tonight.” His voice is low, almost strained, sending you spiraling down into an abyss of an unquenchable fire.

“W-why?” Your throat tightens, brows furrowing at the way Rex struggles with what to say in response.

“Because every second I spend near you, not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or whisper how kriffing badly I have it for you is torture. It’s absolute torture. And now that I am here, with you looking so lovely, so- so…irresistible, telling me what I am to you, I can’t hold back any longer.” He exhales sharply, hands moving from your hands to your neck for a brief moment before you feel them wrap around you and pull you flush against his chest.

“Then don’t.” The air between you cackles with tension, and Rex’s breath hitches at the raw, pleading tone you grace him with.

“If you let me taste your lips, know that I will never let you go.” He’s gathering the strength to speak, and when his eyes burn with an intensity that steals your breath away, it occurs to you that he’s barely holding himself back from you.

“Rex?” He looks at you then, committing every curve of your face to memory as you call for him again, his heart stuttering at the raw vulnerability mirrored in your own pupils.

“Please kiss me.” His answer doesn’t come in words, but in the way he shuts his eyes as he closes the distance between the two of you. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels like a breaking storm—wild, unrelenting, and long overdue. You had expected him to be timid, gentle even, but the untamed way in which he instantly swallows your moans makes your knees weak, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling to the ground.

You’re not sure who is more desperate, you or Rex, but as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel as if your lungs will collapse from the sheer need and surrender moving between the two of you. And as his hand cups the side of your face, you tremble at the sensation of his thumb as it traces your jaw until he tilts your head to the side.

“Ohh g-gods,” you break the kiss for a fraction of a second, but Rex is unrelenting, claiming your mouth fully and moving his lips over yours until every inch of your skin comes alive with fire. You’re urgent in your touches as well, afraid that he will let go any moment and you realize this is all just a dream. But the more he consumes your skin, the quicker your heartbeat thunders against your chest and you press yourself closer to him in an attempt to ground yourself.

When he does finally let go, your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, but there’s no time to collect yourself. His lips descend down your neck, and you throw your head back, pleasure coursing through your veins so quickly that you have to muffle your mouth to hold back from screaming his name. The small gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Rex and he pulls back far enough to catch your attention, waiting until you’re blinking confusingly at him before he returns to your neck.

“No, you don’t hide your noises from me. You have no idea how many nights I spent imagining you in my arms…moaning for me, begging me to touch you and pull every ounce of pleasure from your body.” He leaves a searing trail of fire with each wet kiss, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and biting down harshly when you moan in return.

“But what if Anakin-” He growls at the mention of his friend’s name, his chest tightening at the sound of another man’s name on your lips. His hand trails down your neck to your waist, squeezing you tightly as he slides his tongue down your sternum and coaxes more sounds from you the lower he goes. Rex looks up briefly, smirking with pride when he sees how disoriented you’ve become from such simple touches.

“I don’t care, let him hear. Let them all hear, I want everyone on this planet to know who’s making you feel good. Do you understand me…General?” His confession burns through you, and he zeroes in on the pulse thundering against your neck, biting down harshly as his heart tingles with each moan you sing to him. The way he says your title, so possessive and crazes, sends a fresh wave of desire through you, and you have to fight not to crumble entirely beneath his touches.

“F-fuck, yes…yes Captain. I- whatever you want.” You gasp, voice breaking as you feel yourself sinking against him. You grip at his shoulders for some semblance of stability, the cool edge of his armor digging into your arms and reminding you how naked you are.

“Come here,” his tone is commanding, full of raw desire, and you shiver at the power behind it, swearing beneath your breath when he leans down and slides his hands firmly around your lower back.

“But the water-” You giggle at how quickly he moves from the refresher to the bedroom, and you feel yourself growing wet at how easily he picks you up.

“You don’t need the water to keep you warm.” Rex shakes his head, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on the lips before settling you down on your sheets.

“No?” You tease, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you try to hold back from snickering at what he’s making you feel.

“No baby, that’s what I’m here for.” he murmurs, leaning in close until he cages you between his arms. The bed dips beneath him, and you feel your heart racing at finally having your dreams come true. His eyes barely have any color left in them, and you squeeze your thighs together, excited at being the reason behind such a visceral reaction.

“And exactly how will you w-warm me up?” You trail your hand down up his neck, tracing his cheeks softly and shivering when you feel the rough stubble of his jaw kiss your palms.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rex chuckles, the sound vibrating through the quiet air of the room and making you even more nervous. He draws deliberate circles against your breasts, watching with bated breath as your eyes shut instantly.

“Yes…oh kriff, please Rex. Tell me…tell me.” The need you display to him nearly makes him choke. Never in his life did he think he’d have such an effect on you, but he doesn’t question it, instead giving you more so he can hear what he does to you.

“Let’s see,” Rex leans closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks with a sinful whisper, “I’ll start off by kissing down your body.”

“Hmm,” the image alone leaves you breathless, and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your neck, not caring for how loud you’re getting as your moans turn into long sighs.

“And while you moan at feeling my hands trace your soft skin, I’ll…pull away.” His words trail off, and he suddenly pulls back completely, creating a rift between you that has you sitting up quickly and grabbing his kama to prevent him from getting off the bed.

“N-no don’t,” you plead desperately, refusing to let go of him as he returns to your side and kisses your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t worry mesh’la. I’m not going anywhere.” He catches your wrists, pressing them against his chest to still you before slowly standing up again. He doesn’t break your gaze, and he waits until you relax to begin taking off his armor. You swallow the lump in your throat when you finally register what he just called you, and your breathe trembles as you nod in agreement,

“But for me to show you how much I crave you, I need to remove all of this.” The promise in his voice makes you wish he could put you out of your misery and take you then and there. But you know better than to distract him.

“Rex,” you whine his name like a prayer, unable to hide how much you want him.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But it’s all part of the plan, how else will I keep you running…hot for me.”

“Force help me,” your head falls back as a groan slips past your lips, and you don’t notice where your hand descends until you feel Rex slipping his fingers around your wrist and shoving your arm away from your heated core.

“You can call out all you want, little Jedi, but the only one here is me…so you better put my name to good use.” Rex leans in close again, hovering just above your body as he taunts you with promises. His voice is a delicious growl, one that has you shaking with anticipation and pulling another moan from your throat.

“Rex…”

“Better,” the satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, and he brushes his lips against yours in a featherlight kiss that leaves you chasing after him when he pulls away to strip.

“Please Rex, I need you.” You beg sweetly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You should be embarrassed by how wanton you sound, but you find that you couldn’t care any less, the need to have Rex settle between your thighs outgrowing any shame you have.

“I thought you needed to hear what I want to do to you?” His expression is dark and unreadable as he places his armor on the floor. He stands in nothing but the black body glove he wears beneath his armor, and you’re overwhelmed by how much you can see of him that you shut your eyes and throw your head back. Rex uses the momentary distraction to his advantage, sliding his eyes down your body to sketch a mental image of you in case he never gets to do this again. When he’s had his fair share of you, he removes the rest of his clothes until he’s not wearing anything.

“Look at me cyar’ika,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you obey and open your eyes, the air leaves your lungs dramatically, your mind unable to accept the fact that he’s more naked than you are, that you’re finally, finally, seeing all of him.

“You- you’re torturing me.” You’re shaking with lust, praying to the Force that Rex decides to lose control and take what he wants.

“Is that right?” His lips curl into a knowing smirk, the ghost of a laugh escaping him and making you flush embarrassingly as he moves on top of you. “Oh…maker,” there is no hesitation in his movements, just a careful balance of control and desperate need. Rex holds you tightly in his arms and kisses you until neither of you can breathe. You think he might break you and for a brief moment, you want him to, if only so he could know how much you belong to him. You arch your back into him, trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of having his skin slide against yours.

“Am I pleasing to you?” Rex lets go and wraps his hand around your neck, not firmly, but just to have you look at him. The muscles of his jaw flexes as he watches you lose control, his voice reverent as he practically begs for you to answer him.

“You have no idea,” your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you try to somehow bring him even closer to you.

“I think I have some id-” he smiles faintly, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone before moving further down your body. His words are cut off by a groan when he feels you scratch his head. He can feel every inch of you growing hotter beneath his touch, and he doesn’t hold back any longer, not caring for how aggressive he’s being as he slips two fingers beneath your panties and tugs violently until they rip in his hands. You squeal suddenly, partly shocked by the reaction, but mostly turned on by how much he craves you. Before you can even register what he’s doing, Rex is shoving your thighs apart and kissing your inner thighs, the scent of your cunt hitting his nostrils and making him growl, the sound rumbling from his chest and setting you on fire.

“Fuck mesh’la, you say I’m torturing you but the taste of you makes me…it- hmmm, kriff.” The gutteral sound sends heat pooling in your core, and you find yourself clinging to him even harder as you feel this lips ghost against the outer lips of your pussy.

“Rex,” you whimper, his name slipping from your lips as though it was the only word you knew.

“I know I begged you to call my name, but…if you keep moaning it so shamelessly, this night will come to an end a lot quicker.” Rex stills suddenly, looking up at you with wild eyes, his control hanging by an extremely thin thread.

“I- I don’t care Rex, I want you…I just want you, please.” You plead over and over again, trying your best to pull him up so he can forgo whatever he had in mind for you and just fuck you then and there.

“But I need to get you- oh, Force help me.” He moves up your body, pressing his forehead against yours and tripping over his words when he feels you wrap your hands around his hard cock.

“I’m already so wet for you baby, please…take me.” You whisper, desperation dripping from every word you pray to him. He’s heavy in the palm of your hand, hot and hard to the touch, and you wonder if this is how it will always be with him. You pray it is.

Maker, please.

“You should know, I need you so desperately that I- I may not be able to hold back.” His breathing grows ragged, the restraint unraveling rapidly the more you slide and squeeze his dick. He shuts his eyes and fists the sheets beneath you, and you can’t help but lean forward and kiss his jaw softly, licking down his throat and biting into the skin between his neck and his shoulder when he sinks against you.

Smiling at how easily you can bring his guards down, you pull him closer until your lips brush his ear, whispering the one sentiment you’ve thought of ever since you met him.

“Rex, I want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

“Oh, me’suum’ika, I don’t want to do that.” His head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he stares down at you with a tenderness that melts you. Rex presses his nose to your temple, sighing your name over and over again until you let go of him and bring him down for a kiss. He pushes you harder into the bed, slipping his hand behind your back to undo your chest band before throwing it behind him. You break the kiss to look at him, and Rex is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life.

“I want to fuck you like I can’t breathe without you. I want to fuck you like I can’t get the thought of you out of my head…I want to fuck you like you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your heart swells at the raw, needy emotion in his words, and your hands slips into his hair, scratching it softly and smiling with tears in your eyes when he leans into the touch and groans in return.

“I am, I’ve been yours Rex. Only yours.”

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me baby.” Rex exhales shakily, attacking your chest with more kisses and waiting until he hears you call for him again before taking a nipple in between his teeth. You arch your back against him, opening your thighs so he can settle better against you before crossing your legs behind his back. As soon as you feel his cock tease at your entrance, a wave of shameless desire seeps through your body and you feel your cunt throb in pain at having him so close.

“I- ohhh gods, I can’t wait any longer Rex.” You squirm beneath him, the action sliding his cock against you and making him bite your sensitive bud in return. “But…you deserve to be loved cyare. Slowly, deeply, passionately.” He wants nothing more than to push his cock into your pussy, but he waits, wanting to make sure that you’re ready for him so he doesn’t hurt you.

“We can d-do that later, however long you want…whenever you like. But I need to feel you inside me, now.” You shake your head, voice desperate and lust-filled. He studies you for a brief moment, and when he finds nothing but a needy truth swimming in your eyes, he pushes away and leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes zero in on your cunt, and his cock twitches at finally having you naked and willing beneath him.

“Spread your legs wide for me, and if it’s too much…if I’m too much, tell me.” Rex swallows hard, his eyes softening before darkening once more. You nod quickly, watching him as he takes hold of his cock and slides it across your cunt to spread your juices on him. The gesture is so filthy, and if it were any other man, you would have found it off-putting. But this was Rex, and you had only imagined him fucking you about a thousand times.

“R-rex,” you gasp as he slowly pushes into you, the sensation both overwhelming and mind-bending. Rex can’t take his eyes off of where you’re connected, and his breathing picks up when he begins to feel you clench around him, his cock sliding with ease from how wet you are. He can’t believe that he barely touched you and you were so ready for him, but he pushes the thought aside, wanting to relish every second he’s allowed to be inside you.

“Ah f-fuck, you’re…you’re so warm, so kriffing warm and tight.” He curses softly, his head falling back briefly before his eyes return to your cunt once more.

“I want to feel all of you Rex,” you run your hands over his arms, feeling the tense muscles shift with every movement. You silently wish that he falls against you so you can feel his body atop yours, and it must be evident in the way your eyes trail up and down his body because he slowly pushes himself on top of you, his cock sinking deeper into you as he shifts closer.

“Sweet girl, my beautiful jetii’ika.” Rex looks down at you, his eyes filled with awe and reverence, and something that should terrify you but instead makes you feel warm and cherished.

“You’re s-so deep inside me Rex, I feel…full.” Your voice hitches as he continues to push his dick inside you until he’s fully seated deep in your cunt. You bite into your fingers but Rex shakes his head, reminding you of his warning from earlier.

“Remember, your sounds are mine tonight. I want to hear everything that I do to you.” He grits his teeth, hands digging into your hips as he forces you to let go of your fingers and call his name.

“I love being this close to you... it’s perfect.” You confess, barely managing to string together a coherent thought as you feel him throbbing inside you.

“God, you feel so tight around me…” He wants to pull back and thrust inside you, but he holds back out of fear of hurting you. It’s only when he feels you wrap your legs around him and force him to move that he understands what you want from him. He pulls out until the crown of his cock is seated perfectly in between your pussy lips, and as soon as you moan for him, he thrusts back inside, the sensation sending his mind in a frenzy and nearly making him fuck you into oblivion. Rex stops for a moment, wanting to keep himself in check so he doesn’t terrify you by how much he craves you.

“Mmm, and you feel so big, so fucking hard and big. Move, Rex…please.” You throw your head to the side, biting into his wrist and whining in ecstasy when he obeys you and slowly snaps his hips against you.

“You’re so wet for me already and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He mutters beneath his breath, licking and sucking on your neck as he continues to shove his cock inside you, suddenly feeling dizzy at how perfect you feel around him. What he doesn’t expect is for you to chuckle in response and meet his gaze in an intense gaze, parting your lips and answering him with another, lust-filled confession.

“That’s because I- hmmm, I’ve imagined you fucking me every night since we met, and- and now that I’m here, in your arms-” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust, digging your nails into Rex’s back and smiling when you see his features turn into a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Tell me baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire as he continues to fuck you passionately.

“Nothing compares to h-how you fill me up, Rex.” You confess, shaking at how perfectly Rex feels inside of you, cock hard and hot as it slides against your tight walls.

“You have no idea mesh’la,” you can tell his control is slipping further, and you wonder what it would take for him to lose all control and take you as you desire.

“I can- can feel how much you want this.” He leans down and swallows your moans, slipping his tongue inside of you and claiming your mouth while his cock claims your cunt.

“Yes... don’t stop. Go deeper, just like that.” You wrap your arms around him, breathing heavily against his ears as you feel him push into you with a pace that’s nearly blinding.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. This cunt was made for me, perfect fucking pussy. I can spend hours between your legs.” Rex’s voice comes out heavy, and he reaches down to place his arm around one of your thighs so he can push it higher and come closer against you.

“Please, harder…fuck me harder Captain.” You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations Rex continues to rip from your body.

“Whatever you want to make you lose control, General.” Rex groans in return, his pace brutal and unrelenting as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the room, a frenzied beat that matches the pounding in his heart, he suspects, yours as well. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and when he finds you biting your lower lip to contain yourself, he slams harder into you until he has your attention.

“Look at me while I’m inside you... let me see how much you love this.” He demands assertively, eyes searching your own he feels sweat drip from his brow. There is a thick haze of lust clouding the room, and before you can even answer him, he thrusts harder, deeper, inside you, forcing your body to react in ways he only dreamt of. “Rex…I- I’m, I’m yours... all yours.” You acknowledge him without even thinking, the need dripping from your words matching the same one you can see storming in his eyes.

“You have all of me cyare, my heart, my soul…my everything.” Your confession drives him mad, and the look of pure ecstasy etching on your features sends him reeling, his body trembling as you cling on to him while he pushes you closer to the edge. You sob with pleasure as his movements pick up, his words igniting something primal inside of you.

“That’s it, baby. I can feel you getting closer. Don’t hold back—let go for me. Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze me..fall apart for me.” The possessiveness radiating off of him in waves should terrify you, but instead, you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you so you can feel every inch of him as he coats your walls with his seed. The tension in your body is palpable, every nerve lit up like a wildfire as you approach that inevitable release. Rex must feel it too because he sinks into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your sweat and something sweet that he might never forget.

“I’m so close... oh fuck, I’m going to come!” You cry against him, voice breaking as your body teeters on the brink of bliss.

“Fuck- I…I can’t. I need to-” His rhythm begins to stutter, his breathing becoming heavier and more erratic as he fights to hold on until he feels you come on his cock. Rex’s grip on you tightens, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to reality, to the gift the universe has handed him after so long.

“Don’t hold back, Rex. I want you to come for me, come inside me. I want to feel you…want to take you so deep, fill me up. Please…p-please Rex,” you plead, clawing at his back as you show him that you need him just as desperately. Hearing you beg for him to fill you with his cum shatters the last of his resolve, his pace faltering as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he finally lets go, the pleasure crashing over him overtaking him just as it engulfs your body. He feels you tighten around him, your body convulsing so violently that he can’t figure out whether it’s you who’s crying in pleasure or him.

You’re completely spent, your pussy throbbing harshly as you feel Rex shoot long, hot spurts of his seed deep inside you. It shouldn’t please you so much, but knowing that you have him reach places inside you that no one else will make the pleasure all the more intense, and you twist your head until you can kiss along his neck, silently letting him know that you will never belong to anyone else but him.

He collapses over you then, supporting himself on his forearms so he doesn’t suffocate you. His head is still buried in your neck as you both gasp for air, body trembling slightly as he presses soft kisses to your skin in return. His lips linger over your pulse point where he can feel your heartbeat racing as quickly as his own. Rex lifts his head until he meets your eyes, his own brimming with affection as he smiles at you and nudges your nose with his.

“Baby, you’re everything to me.”

“Rex, I…I think I-” you start, voice quiet and uncertain, afraid that once you tell him what you feel, you will lose it all…lose him.

“I know. Cyare, I know.” He murmurs gently, his hand cradling your face as he leans down and kissing you slowly until you feel nothing but warmth and understanding.

And in that moment, you have no doubt that something deeper than words binds the two of you, something that no one will ever be able to take away from you.

Against his wishes, Rex pulls out of you with a groan, biting into his lower lip when he hears you whine with contention. You don’t let him go too far, sliding against his side and nuzzling into his chest as he pulls the covers above the two of you.

A comfortable silence fills the air and after a while, you look up to find Rex meditating deeply, his attention focused on the ceiling high above you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, fingers moving up and down his chest in a soothing way.

“I’m thinking of what will happen tomorrow now that you won’t be keeping your distance anymore.” He means it as a joke, but when he looks down and sees your hurt expression, he drops the smile and leans over to kiss you, letting you know that he meant no harm by the comment and was just teasing you.

“Rex, I’ll do whatever you want to do going forward. If you want me to act as if nothing has changed, I’ll do that. And if you want to tell your brothers, it would make me feel so happy…and- and if you want me to leave the Order, give up everything…I will gladly do so without a second thought.” Rex’s expression shifts, his brow furrowed beneath the shadow of his close-cropped hair. He looks at you like he’s trying to make sense of your words, trying to fit them into the reality he had come to know in the past rotation.

“You- you would leave the Jedi for me?” His voice is rough with disbelief, and for a moment, he is genuinely convinced he has misheard you. The idea that someone like you— strong, steadfast, bound by your sworn duty to the Jedi and the Republic—would ever consider leaving all of it…for him…maker, it seemed impossible. It had to be.

“I would do anything for you just to have you keep looking at me the way you are now.” You cut through his disbelief with the utmost sincerity, gaze never once wavering as you do your best to make him understand what he means to you. The silence that follows hangs heavy in the air, and Rex swallows hard as searches for the right words, for anything that could match the depth of what you just offered him. He reaches out, trailing his fingers over your cheeks as he leans down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss. The touch of his lips is reverent, as if he wants to assure himself that you are real, that you are in his arms, that you are willingly giving yourself to him without a second thought.

When he finally pulls away and sees tears pricking against your eyes, he smiles at you and nods in understanding.

“How about we go day by day, and when this war is over, we can reassess.” He finally says, his voice less anxious than before. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms, hands going to your waist to pull you flush against him. You cry out in pain and push yourself away from him, the reaction catching Rex by surprise and making him sit up to see what he’s done When he sees you grabbing at your wound and hissing in discomfort, dread settles in his chest as he realizes he forgot the wound and handled you a lot more aggressively that he should have.

“Kriff, your side…I- I completely forgot. Mesh’la, are you-” He leans over to assess the bacta patch, wanting to see the damage he’s done and already thinking of what to tell Kix when he asks him to come and inspect the wound. His panic rises as you push his hand away and look down to find the patch still in place, and only when you’re sure no blood has seeped through do you grab Rex’s hand and settle it against the wound.

“Rex, relax. I- to be honest with you, I’m not sure whether or not I felt any pain. I was so far gone in our…activities, that I didn’t really focus on anything else.” His eyes are less anxious as you allow him to massage the skin around the wound, and when he sees there are no lies in your words, he nods and studies the irritated skin one last time before settling back down, bringing you into his chest gently.

He smiles when he feels you kiss just above his heart, giggling softly when you pinch his side and tease him for being so cuddly.

“Can I ask you something?” It’s his turn to interrupt the silence filling the room, and tilt your head up to nod at him.

“Anything!” His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles at the earnestness in your voice, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of giving him the answer he’s been seeking for months on end.

“At what point did your feelings switch from wanting to be with me physically to…to whatever they are now?” Rex hesitates, choosing his words carefully and refusing to look anywhere else out of fear of missing a change in your facial expressions. When your brow lifts and your hand returns to his stomach, you can’t help but smile at him and shift your gaze to a fixed point somewhere on the skin beneath your palm.

“You mean when did I know that I’m yours?” His face flushes with embarrassment, but he nods instantly, not wanting to turn this moment awkward by his boyish reaction to your rather honest sentiment.

“I don’t think I can pinpoint a day or an hour, it all happened so suddenly and I didn’t realize how deep my feelings ran for you until I was so far gone in them.” You exhale deeply, turning a little contemplative as you admit to him everything you’ve felt for the past year or so.

“If I were to pick a reason though, it would have to be the way you carry yourself with your brothers, with Anakin even.” He looks down at you then, his gaze unwavering as he feels his soul light with a fire that he’s sure no one will ever put out now that you’ve kindled it.

“Seeing you give up so much to ensure your brothers live for another day stirred something inside me. And knowing that you’d follow Anakin into a battlefield without a second thought is…it’s- maker Rex, you’re amazing. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” Your voice cracks slightly with emotion, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as you let him know that you will never care for anyone more than you care for him. Rex blinks down at you, stunned into silence at the raw honesty behind your words.

“The loyalty, the courage—it speaks volumes.” His chest tightens as you speak those words, and he can’t help but turn to face you fully so he can focus on nothing else but the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

“Come here, me’suum’ika.” He wraps his arms around you and molds you into his chest, stealing the breath from your lungs with a kiss that you’re sure would rival all the others he’s gifted you with so far. You let him take whatever he wants from you, sliding your arm around his back to feel every inch of him as he makes you forget the universe outside of your room.

“What does that word mean?” You smile at him when he finally breaks the kiss and trails his lips across your cheeks and down your neck.

“It means ‘little moon.’” Rex murmurs gently, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for your ears. Your heart swells at the tender nickname, and you press yourself closer to him, wanting to stay in his embrace for as long as you’re allowed. You breathe his presence to anchor yourself to him, refusing to acknowledge the chaos of the war raging outside your existence, here in this moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whisper pleadingly, voice barely audible. “Please.”

Rex’s hands tighten around you, and he brushes his thumb over your skin as he pulls you back to meet your gaze.

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, cyar’ika.”

The word sends a shiver down your spine, and you lose yourself in his arms, knowing that nothing will ever compare to what you now share with him.

And as you slowly succumb to sleep, Rex silently thanks the mythical bird for giving him what he’s wished for. The war may not be over, but it could wait. The galaxy, with all its heartbreak and evil, can be someone else’s concern. Tonight, Rex had you, and that was more than enough.

You were all he ever desired.

And he finally had you.

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