summary: senator skywalker is your hot, eyeliner wearing, secret husband whom you have to hide from the jedi. nightmares about him awaken you from your peaceful slumber.
warnings: none really, nightmares, mentions of death
a/n: guys I had to write something about anakin wearing kohl cause yes. and im sure he'd just have his fingers lined with gold rings. hes fashionable like that.
"ani?" you yelled, blue saber lighting a pathway through the darkened hall. waves of pain and agony washed over you, his pain and agony.
"anakin!?" your voice becomes more frantic at the feeling, heart burning for him.
breaking into a run, you make it down the corridor, only to see a hooded figure standing over anakin.
"turn around!" you order the figure, beginning to enter the room. only to be unable to do so. it was like an invisible wall was trapping you. forcing you to watch.
the figure did not turn around, rather, letting out a maniacal cackle, and raising his hand.
"stop!" you yell helplessly, banging on the seemingly non-existent wall, keeping you from saving anakin.
blue streaks of lighting shoot out from the figures wrinkly, pale fingertips, making their way to anakin and shooting down his limbs.
you could only watch in horror as you saw him screaming and writhing on the ground. screaming your name.
"NO!" you scream, your own awareness of his pain becoming too much.
shooting upright in bed, you look around the room, gasping for air. it wasn't real.
slowly regulating your breathing, you look to your left, only to see your husband sleeping peacefully beside you. he looked beautiful like this, small slivers of moonlight illuminating his face in almost angelic ways.
what in the world was that? a vision, perhaps? you had heard yoda speak of jedi getting visions of past or future things that may happen. but it couldn't be. it had to have just been a nightmare. how else could you explain that invisible barrier?
all you knew was, you needed some fresh air.
quietly slipping out of the unfairly comfortable bed of the Senate chambers, you pull on your jedi robe over your nightwear, making your way to the balcony.
the balcony had a beautiful view of the coruscant landscape, and with the city lights on, and the moon shining, it was almost magical.
there were no pretty views on tatooine. just a whole lot of desert. and a lot of sand. thankfully, you never had to go back there again.
you hadn't been sleeping well lately. with the war going on, constantly being sent out on missions with the 501st, and with the latest attempt on senator skywalker's life, you had practically been riddled with anxiety.
what did not help, was that your husband was currently trying to get some bill passed through the senate, that apparently many people did not like. the last attempt on his life had led you to stay sleeping with him in his quarters, regardless of the risk of your relationship being discovered. if anyone asked, you'd just say you were proving protection. but no one did. although, you were sure kenobi had some questions as to why you made your way to anakin's quarters, well before anakin had even returned home.
tomorrow, there would be another senate meeting about anakin's bill. which worried you. what if someone tried something there? you didn't trust the guards there to be able to take care of a well trained bounty, like bossk or aurra sing.
in the midst of all your worries, anakin had rolled over in the silken sheets, hand reaching out to pull you closer. only for his hand to land on a whole lot of air. lifting his head up to look for you, he realizes you've gone.
immediately getting up, he sees the balcony curtains swaying in the wind, the door ajar. making his way to the door, he leaned against the frame, admiring the view of you standing in the moonlight. he truly was head-over-heels for you.
as you were figuring out what excuse would convince obi-wan to let you go to tomorrow's meeting— maybe something about wanting to get a further knowledge of the political side of the Council— you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist, and a chin rest on your shoulder.
"you should be sleeping." you say, resting your own hands on top of his.
"i can say the same for you." he replies, voice close to your ear. "what's wrong? i can practically feel the worry coming off of you."
"its.. nothing. just— needed some air." you didn't want to burden him further by putting your own visions on top of his endless list of things to worry about.
"you know," he turns you around so you're facing him, his blue eyes lined with smudged kohl he would have been too tired to wash off, staring down into yours, "you can tell me anything, right? i want you to tell me."
why did he have to be so persistent? sighing, you shake your head slightly before replying. "its nothing, really. just a silly nightmare."
and that still doesn't convince him. "it's not silly. tell me what it was about." his hands make his way to your cheeks, cupping your face so delicately. the pretty, jeweled rings on his fingers felt cool against your face, and you had an overwhelming feeling to just tell him everything that had ever worried you.
"it was about you." you finally say something, sighing. looking up at him, you could see a hint of pity in his expression.
"you know you don't have to worry about me, right? i am capable of taking care of myself..." he smiles a little, trying to reassure you.
"yes, I know— but this was different." you inhale deeply, the image of him screaming in pain haunting your mind. "i couldn't reach you. you were being shocked by someone. i couldn't see who."
internally, anakin grew slightly worried at that. but he didnt want you to panic either. "i trust you. and i know that if anything were to happen to me, youd be there. I dont want you to panic over this, my love."
"i think it would be wise for us to focus on the present moments. visions of what could be, aren't important for you right now. you have a war to win." he speaks softly, and you agree.
why dwell on something that only has a possibility of being real, when you should be focused on the very real things happening around you right now?
"you're right." of course he was. this was yet another reminder of why telling your problems to anakin usually always helped put you at ease, even if it was just a little bit. you still were worried over what you saw. but you'd see master yoda for that later. anakin didn't have to know.
"it's just— my worries for you grow almost every day. i know you're capable, and what you do is only to help people... but could you do it in a way that didn't make others want you dead for it?" you question, trying to make light of the mood.
anakin chuckled at that, hands leaving your face to pull you into his chest. "if only that were possible. i seemingly just have a very targetable personality." he says, and you laugh into his neck.
after a few moments of comfortable silence, you just couldn't resist the urge to tease him a little about his sleepwear. you always did that, you loved to make fun of his high-end fashion sense in comparison to your boring black jedi robes.
"is this new? silk?" you say, hands moving to hold a fistful of the soft fabric he was draped in. it was very elaborate, for sleepwear. light blue silk with pearl beading on the neckline. it amused you for no reason really.
"why, do i look bad in it?" anakin asks, looking down at you. you were just wearing a plain cream nightdress, which you had just thrown your robes over before coming out. ah the difference between a jedi and a senator.
chuckling, you shake your head no. "no, of course not. you just... always manage to show me up in terms of your excellent fashion sense." you smile a little. times like this made you forget about the stuff going on around you. just you and him.
"well, jedi aren't exactly known for their taste in clothes. don't you wear the same outfit every day?" he teases, looking down at his own sleepwear.
"at least your robes are better than that kenobi's. those boots should not be paired with those pants." he prods at your former masters outfit, and you cant help but laugh.
"well if my own robes weren't up to your standard, im sure you'd have done something about it already." you smile, hands going to run through his incredibly soft curls.
"that I would." he says, pulling you back into him. "let's go back to sleep. we both have a big day tomorrow." he says, taking you by the hand and leading you back inside.
your worries, for now, had subsided.
but you would do anything, to ensure that your visions never came true.
I don't know how the night might change us (Part 1)
Pairing: Fox x Padawan!Reader / Fox x fem!Reader
Summary: Trying to escape the unwelcome attention of a senator, you take refuge on a balcony - and find yourself in the company of a certain Commander in scarlet armor. Little do you know, this encounter is about to change you forever.
Word count: 8.2k
Tags/Warnings: NSFW 18+; I wanted to write porn with plot, but this turned out to be 73.96% plot and 26.04% porn (I did the math); pinv sex; oral (f receiving); edging; kind of drunk sex; unprotected sex (but we all know better right?); smoking; alcohol; Fox is a cocky bastard; Reader is wearing heels and a red dress; Reader is over 18, just didn't pass the trials yet; had to throw in an overprotective big brother; it's Cody, of course it is; just a tiny bit of angst; slightly awkward!Reader
Part 2 here | Taglist | series navigation post
A/n: So this is the first 'x reader' thing i've ever written. Fox brainrot is real guys, couldn't escape it. Was this supposed to be a one-shot? yes. Is it a one-shot? not really, i'm pretty much setting up possible follow-ups. Am I gonna write said follow-ups? ...maybe.
Title is from Terrified by Vincent Lima - which is sooo Fox-coded in my opinion 😭
3rd image is a painting by Miguel Dominguez
Cody's scar origin is from this video that I loved so fucking much, I had to adopt the headcanon too.
ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister
vod - brother ; vode - brothers
cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling
mesh’la - beautiful
osik - crap, shit
shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger
Shab kyr’unsen’ye - made this up to mean 'fuck off and die'
~~~
The senator grips your arm in a way that causes your face to briefly scrunch in disgust, but there’s nothing you can do besides quickly schooling your expression back to a neutral one. Your eyes search through the crowd of elegantly dressed sentients, franticly trying to find anyone that could help get you out of this uncomfortable situation. You see your Master – Obi-Wan is all the way on the other side of the grandiose event hall, engrossed in what appears to be quite a serious conversation with Master Windu. Or, it might as well be idle chitchat about the weather – you can never tell when it comes to the Council Member.
Your eyes keep shifting through the crowd, scanning for orange-painted palstoid – if Obi-Wan can’t help you, maybe your ori’vod can. But any hope of securing help from the Commander dissolves in a second. Cody seems to be in just as bad of a situation, standing next to Rex and surrounded by a group of wealthy socialites you know they are supposed to impress – that’s the point of this whole damn gala isn’t it? showing off the Republic’s perfect soldiers and gathering more funds for this never-ending war. You catch his gaze and faintly tilt your head towards the man still holding onto your arm, allowing a barely visible eye roll to communicate you disdain. Cody’s shrugs and nods, his movements just as discreet – he knows exactly how it feels. Your attention is then caught by the same speech you’ve heard at least five times tonight.
“And she is the first Jedi Master that our planet has had in 200 years. We could not be more proud of all her accomplishments”, the senator exclaims.
“Padawan”, you correct, “I have not yet passed my Trials”. How many times do you need to explain it to this man?
“Right, of course. We’re still so, so proud”.
The mixed group of men and women nod, and a few flashes from the holo-cameras make you recoil – journalists form your homeworld, the senator explained earlier. You don’t understand why he insists on having so many pictures of the two of you taken, but you bite your tongue and play your part, praying to the Force you’ll finally be able to escape his grasp soon. You take a sip of the sparkling chandrillan wine you’re holding – you are so over this whole evening.
The Force finally seems to take pity on you – a man in expensive-looking robes calls the senator’s name and he finally releases your arm in order to shake his hand. With a curtly muttered “excuse me just a moment” you hurry away, making a beeline for the nearest balcony door. The room feels stuffy and you desperately need some air. As you move through the crowd, you slightly roll your ankle and curse under your breath – what in the hell possessed you to wear heels? – but nevertheless you carry on.
As soon as the door shuts, you lean against its coloured transparisteel, close your eyes and finally breathe out a sigh of relief. The night air is chilly, the sun having long disappeared past the horizon, and it feels soothing against your heated cheeks. You did not think you’d have to stay for so long, but the damn party just won’t end. Maybe you’ll be able to hide out here for the rest of it.
“You alright?”, a deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open.
Turning your head to your right, you notice a man leaning against the durasteel railing and you feel your heart skip a beat. He is a clone – Coruscant Guard by the looks of his armor, but he’s just so…
The clone’s hair is drizzled by streaks of grey and there’s a prominent scar across the bridge of his nose. There seem to be more scars scattered on his face, but in the faint, reddish light coming through the transparisteel, you cannot make out that much detail. Smoke is enveloping him, and your eyes travel down to the lit cigarra in his hand. An empty glass sits next to him on the railing, only two cubes of slowly melting ice remaining on the bottom. Another details grabs your attention – the kama. You’re pretty sure you’re looking at a Commander. Now if you could figure out which one.
The man cocks his head to the side, an amused expression sparkling in his eyes. Right… he asked you a question and all you’ve done is stare at him – you might as well be drooling. Get a grip.
Straightening, you turn to face him better. “Yes. I just really needed some air… and to escape some unwanted attention”, you confess.
“Senator Brenko”, the clone nods, an understanding passing over his facial features.
“Yeah… how did you know?”
“It’s my job to pay attention”, he says dryly, taking a drag out of the cigarra.
Your eyes involuntarily track the movement, focusing on the way his lips enclose around it. Suddenly, your throat feels really dry, so you down the last of the sparkling wine in your glass. Maybe that wasn’t the best decision – it was not your first glass of the night and you’re starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. But it’s not enough. The past hours of being paraded around by the senator have left you restless and irritated, and you’re craving something to take the edge off.
Slowly, you walk to the railing and place your empty glass next to his, then eye the cigarra which is back between his lips. You promised Cody you were done with tabac… but one cigarra every now and then can’t hurt, right?
“Do you have another one of those?”
A small smirk tugs at the clone’s lips as he reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, procuring a pack of cigarras and tilting it towards you. You take one out of the pack, bringing it up to your nose to inhale its aroma before placing it between your lips. The clone then takes out a small, metallic lighter, igniting the flame and holding it out in front if you. The normal thing to do would be to simply lean in, but for some reason, your hand gently grasps his, bringing it closer in order to light the cigarra, your gaze lifting to meet his as you do so. You’re not sure if he minds – his face remains impassive, but you do catch the way his posture slightly tenses at your touch.
“Thank you, Commander…?”, you prompt, exhaling the first puff of burning smoke.
“Fox”, the clone replies, standing a bit taller.
Your eyebrows briefly lift up. The Commander Fox, head of the Coruscant Guard.
You’ve heard plenty about him from Cody – mostly complaints. Then again, Cody might still be slightly bitter about that scar on his face, courtesy of a very drunk Fox one night at the 79s. You weren’t there to witness it, but Boil has provided a very detailed retelling. The words “miserable asshole” have also been thrown around – that one was Wolffe’s description. Cody’s main grievance, however, is Fox pulling away from them for what he considers no good reason, and how impossible it is to get to talk to his brother.
Rex, on the other hand, always tries to defend Fox whenever he comes up in conversation at the 79s, especially after Wolffe has had a few drinks and starts tearing into him. You’ve heard so many contradictory accounts of the man standing in front of you, you have no idea what to make of him.
Safe to say, you are intrigued.
“Nice to meet you, Commander. I’m–”
“Cody’s Padawan. I know”, Fox interjects, his eyes giving you a once-over.
“Cody’s Padawan?”, you repeat with a chuckle. “I don’t think Master Kenobi would agree with that statement”
“Just clone-talk”, he shrugs.
You narrow your eyes. You really, really shouldn’t meddle in their relationship – it’s not your place. But Cody is important to you – he is your ori’vod after all – and you’ve seen how much Fox’s gradual disappearance has been weighing on him. What the hell. You’re feeling bold tonight anyway.
“That implies you and Cody talk, and I know for a fact you do not pick up his comms”, you jab, taking a slow drag of the cigarra.
All amusement seems to disappear from his eyes and his gaze turns cold. You don’t falter – you square your shoulders and stare him down, making it very clear you’re expecting a reply.
“I’m busy”, he mumbles.
“Cody’s busy too”, you counter, “but he still makes time to comm his brothers”.
Fox’s jaw clenches and his eyes dart to the door of the balcony. For a moment you think you’ve offended him so much that he’s going to leave and you’re about to open your mouth to apologise, only to be stopped by a low, defeated sigh. Fox tosses the nearly-finished cigarra into his empty glass, the ambers fizzling out as they touch the melted ice. He pulls another one from his pouch, lights it, and shifts his stance, resting his forearms against the railing.
“Well, busy looks different on Coruscant”, he says, gaze lost to the skyline.
He sounds so tired and for some reason your heart breaks for him. You have seen your fair share of the ugliness of Coruscant – and if you’re honest you’ve never really liked it here. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt stirs in your stomach. You do not know this man and you do not know what he has to deal with on a daily basis. All you know is what other people have told you and their retellings are clouded by personal feelings. Maybe you were too quick to judge.
“This place does fucking suck”, you comment, leaning back on the railing.
Fox huffs a small laugh and turns his head to look at you. “Is that the kind of language they teach at that Temple of yours?”.
You roll your eyes. “My master had a very colourful way of expressing herself. My first Master, that is. She died at the beginning of the war – it’s how I ended up in the 212th”, you explain, smiling ruefully at his muttered condolences. “Obi-Wan would probably have a stroke if he heard me”.
“Don’t think Cody would be too pleased either”, he adds.
“Really? Cause he’s the one who taught me how to swear in Mando’a”, you lie, wanting to gauge how well he knows his brother.
“Cody?”, he asks, giving you a look.
“Yes, Cody”, you affirm.
“Not a chance. I do not believe that for a second”.
You genuinely laugh and shake your head. “Fine”, you admit, “it was actually some of the boys from the 501st”.
“That I can believe”, the Commander nods. There’s a pause in the conversation as both of you gather your thoughts. Before you can find the next thing to say, he continues. “What’s your favourite then?”
You mull it over, going through the words and phrases you know. “Not sure if I have a favourite, but ‘Shab kyr’unsen’ye’ was pretty much all I had in my head earlier”, you say, gesturing to the door of the balcony with the hand holding the cigarra. “Honestly you should get a medal just for dealing with these fuckers every day”.
Fox arches a brow, that spark of amusement back in his eyes.
“Oh, sorry. Esteemed fuckers”, you correct.
The Commander laughs – actually laughs – something that, based on everything you’ve heard about him, you didn’t think was possible. “I see why Cody likes you”.
You join in on the laughter, before adding, “no but really, how do you deal with them every single day? I’ve only spent time with one tonight and I was ready to commit murder after only 15 minutes”.
“Honestly?”, Fox says, taking a long drag of the cigarra, “I tune out most of what they say”.
“Really?”.
“Really”, he confirms. “They just like to hear themselves talk, they’re never really looking for a reply – it would interrupt their monologues. I’m sure you’ve noticed – did Brenko let you get a single word in?”.
“Not really”, you contemplate. “And I’ve even corrected him on something at least five times”.
“How dare you ruin his campaign?”, Fox jokes.
You frown, confusion clearly written on your face. “What campaign?”.
The Commander straightens, turning to face you better. “The re-election campaign. His term as a senator is almost over. I assumed that’s why he was parading you around all night – trying to imply he has the support of the Jedi”.
Your entire body tenses as a wave of anger violently crashes over you. “That… that fucking shabuir. Of course he was just using me, I should’ve realised”. Shaking your head, you let out a sharp exhale. “You know that could actually get me in trouble? I’m a Jedi, I’m not supposed to support anyone’s fucking political campaign. Fucking bastard!”.
Finishing your cigarra, you throw it into the empty glass next to his earlier one. You’re already imagining having to explain yourself in front of the Council, and the disappointed looks you will receive. Why did you always have to be so polite? You should’ve said no to the holo-photos. You shouldn’t have let him drag you around and introduce you to all those people. You should’ve told him not to touch you. Your gaze lifts and you suddenly realise the Commander is studying you intently. Was your outburst too much? Heat rises to your cheeks and you quickly look away.
“Sorry”, you mumble.
“Why are you apologising?”, Fox asks, eyebrows pinching.
“For getting so angry. Not very Jedi-like”, you laugh bitterly.
The Commander shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s adorable – you actually think that was angry”, he teases.
You swear your heart does a somersault at hearing he thinks you’re adorable and you shuffle awkwardly in place, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. The movement reminds you that your feet are killing you and you once again curse your decision to wear heels. You need to sit down for a moment.
Placing your hands on either side of your hips on the durasteel railing, you push yourself up to sit. Before you're even fully settled, a strong hand encircles your waist, steadying you with a firm hold at the small of your back. Your brain takes a second to process what’s happening – his hand on your lower back feels as if it's burning, filling you with a warmth that seems to unfortunately travel to your core. He’s close now, too close, and his whiskey-coloured eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.
“I’m not gonna fall, Commander”, you say once you regain your composure, your voice a little strained but mixed with amusement.
“Don’t want to risk it. Cody would have my head if I let anything happen to you. And that is quite a drop”, he remarks.
“Yeah but I’m a Jedi”, you scoff playfully. “Even if I fall I’d be able to use the Force and land safely”.
“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t fall”, Fox reiterates.
His hand is still on your back, and it doesn’t seem he’ll move it away any time soon. You’re not sure why, but you want to test him. Maintaining eye contact, you allow a small, mischievous smile to grace your features, right before you abruptly push back against his hand. As expected, you barely budge.
“Don’t!”, Fox warns, his voice low and commanding.
You roll your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the dampness in your underwear. Maker why do you find him so hot?
“Fine, fine, I’ll behave”, you promise, “You can let go now”.
“I’ll let go when your feet are back on the ground”, he counters.
“Are you serious?”, you laugh.
The look he gives you silences you immediately. He is, actually, dead serious. You bite your lip and look away. The warmth of his hand, even though the fabric of his gloves, is extremely distracting.
“Well then, Commander, I hope you’re comfortable. My feet are killing me and I plan to sit here for a while”, you challenge.
“I’m fine, don’t worry”, he replies. His tone is infuriatingly casual.
Silence settles over the two of you and you don’t know which part drives you more mad – his hand on your back, his thighplate pressed against you knee, his intense gaze or the way he appears completely unfazed by any of it. You try to keep your face neutral and your breathing steady, but you simply can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when Fox finishes his cigarra and leans over you to toss it in the empty glass, briefly caging you in. For a second, you think you see his gaze dropping to your lips and you curse yourself when your own eyes wonder to his.
You shouldn’t be thinking like this – it would be wrong on so many levels. Maybe you both share the same rank, but he’s a clone, a soldier, and you’re a Jedi – it’s simply not allowed. Plus, he is Cody’s brother, and not just in the way all clones are vode – Fox and Cody were batchmates, they grew up together, their bond is different. Cody would not approve. And you’re fairly certain it’s all in your head anyway. But even if you weren’t imagining the tension, even if Fox somehow felt it too, it wouldn’t change the fact that it was forbidden.
“Would you really get in trouble?”, Fox breaks the silence.
“W-What?”, you stutter.
“For those holo-pics with Brenko”, he clarifies.
You jolt, pulling yourself together. “Uhh, depends how they’ll use them, I guess”.
Fox appears to contemplate something before giving you a stern look. “Do not move!”, he orders.
All you can do is nod.
His hand finally leaves your back, coming to tap the comm on his vambrace. You almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but catch yourself before making a sound. Maker, what has gotten into you?
“Stone, come in”, Fox speaks into the comm.
“Yes, vod”, a voice replies in less than five seconds.
“The journalists following Brenko around – say there’s a problem with their accreditations and confiscate the holo-cams. Return them after you delete all images with General Kenobi’s Padawan”, he orders, eyes not leaving yours as he does so.
“Understood”.
Your lips part as you realise he’s about to save your ass without you even asking and a warm feeling blooms in your chest. “Are you allowed to do that?”, you manage to utter.
“I’m the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard”, he says, a small smirk breaking through his mask of professionalism.
“Yeah, but freedom of the press and all that”, you argue weakly.
“The press needs the proper accreditations. They have it to document the gala, not to participate in a political campaign”
“Isn’t that stretching the truth?”
“That’s playing their game, cyar’ika”, Fox declares, his tone of voice bordering on teasing.
Your cheeks immediately heat up – you know what the Mando’a term means. “Thank you, Commander. You, uhh… you’re a lifesaver”, you reply with a small, embarrassed chuckle.
His eyes soften and he smiles, and this time you’re certain – he does glance at your lips. He’s still so close, he could just lean in. You want him to lean in… His eyes quickly return to yours but you saw it clearly and your heart begins to race. Without thinking, you tilt your head up, and you hear him inhale sharply.
Before either of you can make another move, a couple of raindrops land on your forehead and shoulder. You both look up. A thick layer of black clouds covers the night sky and the faint rumbling of thunder reverberates through the air. The raindrops keep falling, quickly multiplying, and Fox curses under his breath. It was already a chilly night, and with the rain now pouring down, it’ll only get colder.
“We should get you back inside”, the Commander voices.
You shake your head. “I cannot go back in there; I just can’t stand it anymore”.
His head turns to the balcony door, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Whatever he’s thinking seems to make him tense; you notice his fist clenching and unclenching. However, any sign of tension disappears before he turns back to you, his expression carefully composed.
“Come on”, he says, his hand settling on your back again, gently coaxing you to jump down from the railing with a soft, guiding pressure.
“But–”, you begin to protest.
“Once we’re in, head right and stay close to the wall. I’ll cover your flank so the senator can’t approach you again. We’ll slip out through one of the side doors and go to the Guard HQ”, he instructs, picking up his helmet from the floor and securing it in place. His voice takes on the same commanding tone you've heard his brothers use countless times during briefings.
You hesitate for a moment, considering all the implications. But what’s the alternative? Stay out in the cold rain or go back inside only to be used as a prop by the senator? Simply heading to their HQ doesn’t mean anything – he’ll probably take you to the mess hall or maybe a break room, like the ones you’ve been in countless times aboard the Negotiator or at the base on Coruscant. You’ve been enjoying his company, and if you’re honest, you want to spend more time with him.
Deciding to trust him, you nod and follow his instructions. The heavy air hits you as soon as you step inside and the general noise of voices, laughter and music is overwhelming. You move quickly, not wishing to spend a minute longer in this large, overcrowded space, and as promised, Fox walks right beside you, blocking you with his large body from anyone’s prying eyes. His hand presses against the small of your back on a few, brief occasions, as he steers you through the crowd and towards a concealed door, which he opens with the help of an access card.
You’ve been in the Senate building before, but never walked these maintenance corridors. Fox guides you, his fingers brushing yours as he walks by your side down the stairs. Your heart races every time you feel the contact and you tilt your head to look at him a few times, but his face is safely hidden behind his helmet.
The Coruscant Guard compound sits just behind the Senate building, appearing separate but connected through a network of underground tunnels. You’ve never been here – never had a reason why – and you find yourself looking around and taking in every detail. Although, there isn’t really that much to take in, as it has the same cold, utilitarian architecture of the main base.
As you walk quietly beside Fox, you begin to feel out of place – though, funnily enough, your attire matches the Corrie’s colour scheme. The shock troopers you pass nod at their Commander but always do a double take when they see you. You’re starting to wonder if coming here was a mistake.
Fox leads you to the turbolisfts, then to one of the upper levels and down a couple of corridors until you are stood in front of the door to an office – the door to his office. He opens it and gestures for you to go in first. The room is small and very minimalist – there’s one desk and chair, one file cabinet and a worn-down couch. The desk is full of datapads and flimsi files and the sheer amount of work looks overwhelming, yet somehow everything is neatly arranged and stacked.
You pause in the doorway for a second, but your feet really are killing you, so you plop down on the couch, kicking your heels off with a dramatic sigh. You hear a chuckle as Fox walks over to his desk and takes his helmet off and you want to make a snarky comment, but the words get stuck in your throat. You take a moment to study him better, the brighter lights of his office allowing you to see more of the scars on his face, the bags under his eyes and the silver strands in his hair. You’ve always found the clones attractive, but Maker, there was something about Fox that was hitting you harder than ever before.
The Commander is also observing you and a self-satisfied smirk breaks through his mask of composure.
“Like what you see?”, he teases, crossing his arms over his chest.
A “yes” escapes your lips before you can stop it and your eyes go wide at the realisation of what you just admitted. “T-The paint job”, you then blurt out, as if that would somehow save it.
“The paint job?”, he repeats, thoroughly amused.
“Mhmm”, you hum, the sound coming out strained. “Cause most of the Guard troopers I’ve seen have the-the red on the chest plate and the white is-and you know, nice choice having it the other way around”. The words spew out with a rapid flow and you cringe internally.
“Glad you approve”, Fox bites back a laugh.
You give him a look before you throw your head back, starring at the durasteel ceiling and cursing the stream of stupidity that came out of your mouth.
“Do you want a drink?”, he asks.
“Yes, please”, you nod, meeting his amused gaze again.
Fox crouches down and procures a bottle or corellian whiskey and a glass from the lower drawers of the cabinet. You watch intently, your gaze following every motion as he pours the amber liquid. The Commander then walks over to the couch and hands the glass to you, clinking the bottle against it before taking a swing directly out of it. A laugh escapes your lips at the sight.
“Only have one glass”, he shrugs before sitting down next to you.
“So you usually drink alone?”, you ask, voice playful. “That’s a bit sad, Commander”.
Fox huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “You can drop the ‘commander’, you know?”, he says instead of answering your question.
Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, taking a sip of the whiskey. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat and you cough – it’s stronger than what you usually drink. You really should put a stop to this.
“Alright… Fox”, you say.
You glance back at him, heart beating faster. Fox closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savouring the way his name sounded as it left your lips. When he opens them again, the look he gives you is different, hungrier, and it sets a slow burn alight in your core. You should get up and leave, take yourself out of this inappropriate situation, but instead, you shift in your seat to face him better.
“So”, you start sweetly, pausing to sip your whiskey, “tell me something about yourself”.
He takes another swing of the bottle before placing it on the floor next to the couch. “What do you want to know?”
You have no idea what compels you to do it, but your hand moves on its own, cupping his face. Your thumb gently brushes over the scar at the corner of his mouth. “How’d you get this?”, you ask.
His eyes flick down to your hand, then back to yours and you can feel his jaw clenching as he sharply inhales. “Careful, mesh’la”, he rasps, “you might make me do something we’ll both regret”.
“I wouldn’t regret it”, you whisper.
“You’re drunk. You would regret it”, he insists, his voice coming out strained.
“I’m not that drunk, Fox”, you counter. “I know what I want”.
He stares you down, his expression unreadable, and your boldness begins to falter. You try to pull your hand away, but before you can, he catches it, holding it firmly in place against his face. You can almost see the internal conflict behind his eyes. Slowly, he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your wrist. His lips feel so soft, so warm, and goosebumps appear on your skin in anticipation. But then – he lets go of your hand.
The disappointment is fleeting. Fox takes your glass, downs the whiskey in one go, and sets it on the floor. Then, he moves closer, devouring you with his eyes. The look is electric and it sends a shiver directly to your core. When he cups your face, your breath hitches, quickens. You are completely at his mercy – if only he would just kiss you already.
“Please don’t regret this”, he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.
The raw vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard and your heart clenches. “I won’t. I promise”.
The last of Fox’s self-restraint finally breaks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss – slow, tentative, sweet. Not at all what you expected. You thought he would be rougher, demanding, but the way he takes his time, the gentleness of his lips – it’s endearing, but also maddening, and it fills you with need. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and his other hand settles on your hip. You want more of him – you need more of him – and so you deepen the kiss. Your tongue brushes past his lips and he groans, his grip on you tightening. Somehow, he tastes like caf, even though what you expected was tabac and whisky.
The kiss becomes hungrier, more desperate, and you start to suspect that Fox needs this even more than you do. His hand leaves your hip and starts exploring your body as he guides you down onto the couch. He’s caging you in now, his large frame looming over you – it’s intoxicating really. He breaks the kiss in order to pull back slightly, finding your eyes.
“Is this okay?”, Fox asks.
“Yes!”, you reply, eager for him to continue.
You pull him back to you and feel him smile against your lips. The need for more pours into the kiss – you’re really worked up now – and your hands roam over his chesplate then up to his shoulders, fumbling to find the latches and get it off. It is not an easy task.
“Do you need help there?”, Fox chuckles against your lips
“I need you out of the armor”, you whine.
“Maybe if you asked nicely”, he teases, his lips trailing down your neck.
You tilt your head in order to give him better access, and moan when you feel his teeth scrape on your pulse point. The feeling is so exquisite you almost forget what you wanted. However, the hard plastoid pressing down on your chest quickly reminds you of your wish.
“Fox”, you breathe, “please take it off”.
Fox smirks and sits back on his knees, his eyes not leaving yours as he expertly sheds his upper armor with impressive speed. He leans back in, more urgent this time, kissing you deeply. You immediately take advantage, gliding your hands over the planes of his chest. The fabric of his blacks feels smooth against your palms, but you yearn to feel his warm skin. Slowly, your hands make their way down to his belt, pulling at the material tucked in, and Fox pauses the kiss to assist you in taking his top off.
You take a moment to admire him, your fingers gently tracing over the scars scattered across his chest. Your eyes then land on a bruise on the left side of his waist – it's the size of your fist, fresh and a dark purple with yellowish-green edges. Concern flashes in your gaze as you meet his eyes.
“Incident on the lower levels last week”, he answers your silent question.
“Are you alright to continue? That looks painful”, you ask, the worry in your voice genuine.
“I’m fine, mesh’la, don’t worry”, he reassures you with a soft smile.
He doesn’t give you too much time to keep thinking about it – his lips crash into yours, kissing you with a renewed hunger. He then trails down, nipping at the skin on your throat and chest. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling his greying curls gently, an action that makes him moan. He pulls back, staring intently in your eyes as his hand comes to cup your breast. Your soft moans encourage him to continue and he pushes the material of your dress and bra to the side. Your nipple pebbles as the cool air of his office brushes against it and Fox sees it as an invitation to lean in and close his lips around it. His tongue swipes over the hardened bud, and the whimpers falling from your lips only spur him on.
You hook a leg around him, drawing him closer as he moves to the other breast. You hiss at the contact with the hard plastoid of his codpiece, your core aching with need. His hand slides on your thigh, pushing at the hem of your dress.
“You’re wearing too much fabric”, he groans, lifting his head from your breasts.
“What’s stopping you from taking it off?”, you purr.
His hands find the zipper and pull it down, and you shift your body to assist him in freeing you from the dress and bra.
“You’re so beautiful”, he murmurs, eyes raking over your naked form under him. You bite your lip as heat darkens your cheeks.
He throws the garments somewhere on the floor before his mouth claims your breasts again, sucking a mark on the left one. His lips then continue down your abdomen, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. When he finally reaches your center, you’re dripping wet, and Fox curses under his breath as he pulls your underwear to the side and sees your arousal. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak.
His hands spread your legs a little wider and he impatiently dives in, his warm tongue sliding though your folds. A loud, needy moan sounds from the back of your throat, and your head falls against the armrest of the couch. Your eyes are squeezed shut and all you can focus on is the pure pleasure that his lips and tongue elicit as they flick over your clit. Slowly, you start grinding on his face, helping him find a rhythm that makes you head spin.
You gasp when his fingers find your entrance. He slips two of them inside in a slow, maddening pace, stopping his attention to your clit for a just a moment in order to gauge your reaction.
“Don’t stop”, you manage to whimper, not even caring how needy you must sound.
Fox chuckles – a low, self-satisfied sound that reverberates through your core. He resumes his earlier assault on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a faster pace at the same time. Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling sharply on the strands. He moans at the pain, and the sound only increases your pleasure.
His fingertips find a spot that makes you cry out and you’re desperately grinding against him. You’re so close, the pressure is building and you squeeze your thighs around his head instinctively. Pleasure overtakes your senses and it only keeps increasing with every pump of his fingers and lick of tongue. You're so, so close now – the damn is about to break. And then he stops, swiftly pulling the digits out of you.
“Fox!”, you shout, the indignation in your voice sharp as all pleasure dissipates.
“Sorry cyar'ika”, he laughs, “but I want to be inside of you when you come”.
“I could've done that after. There was no need to stop now”, you whine in protest.
“It's more fun this way”, Fox teases as he gets up and begins removing the rest of his armor.
“You are such an asshole”, you mumble under your breath.
The smirk he gives you is so disarming, you’re glad you’re already laying down. “Someone must've warned you about that before”.
“Well maybe I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt”, you bite back.
“You should believe everything you've heard about me”, Fox declares, now standing before you in nothing but his underwear. “Especially the bad things”.
Your gaze falls to the outline of his erection, lingering on the way it strains against the fabric of his boxers. The sight sends a wave of heat through your body, reigniting the desire simmering in your core. You bite your lip – he is big and you can already imagine how he’ll feel inside of you. You swallow, your mind racing in anticipation of what will come next. He pulls the boxers down, letting his cock spring free, and your eyes go wide.
“If you’re done ogling, I’d like to continue”, he taunts.
“I am not ogling!”, you exclaim, a bit defensive.
“You are definitely ogling”, he says with a smirk as he climbs back on top of you. “Drooling a little too”.
You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand, trying to give him a dirty look, but the smile frozen on your lips betrays you. It seems you do enjoy his teasing. His lips find yours again, and any indignation you felt from earlier immediately melts away. You wrap your arms around his back, nails scraping his skin in response to his erection pressing against your clit. He swallows your moans and pushes his tongue into your mouth, filling it with the unexpected taste of your arousal.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”, Fox pulls away to ask, the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance.
“Yes”, you nod eagerly. “I want this – I want you”.
His eyes darken and the look he gives you is almost possessive. Slowly, he sinks in, and you gasp at the stretch. You look into his eyes as he gradually bottoms out, lost in their mesmerising amber hue. A sudden wave of panic violently crashes over you – you’ve been around so many troopers before, yet you've never felt like this. It's overwhelming, terrifying... and yet, you don't want it to stop.
“Fuck, you’re so tight”, Fox groans, the awe in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.
“You feel amazing”, you respond, the words coming out strained.
Fox pulls almost all the way out, before sharply snapping his hips back into you. The cry that leaves your lips echoes around the room and, based on the smile on his lips, gives him immense pleasure. His lips claim yours again, as he thrusts harder, faster, driving all coherent thought from your mind. All you can sense, all you can feel – it’s him. Fox consumes you completely – he is everything you taste, everything you smell, everything you see and hear.
Your breasts bounce with each sharp thrust and Fox brings a hand up to cup one of them, pinching the nipple between his fingers. The extra stimulation is almost too much and you moan as you feel your peak quickly approaching. A thought crosses your mind – maybe you shouldn’t be so loud; but that is easier said than done.
“You’re… you’re taking me so well, mesh’la”, Fox rasps, voice rough with effort. “Fuck! It’s… it’s like you were made for me. So perfect, you’re perfect”.
You try to speak, but no words come to you. The tip of his cock hits that spot inside of you just right, and every thrust of his hips brings you closer and closer to your release.
“What is it, mesh’la? Use your words”, Fox teases, noticing the crease in your brows.
Your mouth opens and closes silently a couple of times before you finally find your voice. “Don’t stop”, you beg. “Please, Fox, please don’t stop”.
The sound he makes almost sounds like a growl and it sends a visible shiver across your body. Fox presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he forces himself to maintain the same pace. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit, and you begin circling it with quick, urgent motions. It doesn’t take long for the coil to snap – your back arches as your walls contract around his length, and your climax washes over you in powerful waves.
The sounds you make and the sight of you writhing beneath him soon push him over the edge. With a low grunt, Fox quickly pulls out, spilling his release across your stomach. He collapses on top of you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck, and you tightly wrap your arms around his still-trembling body.
You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that – lost in each other’s embrace, catching your breath. It feels peaceful, natural, almost necessary. You stroke his hair, savouring the way his arms pull you closer, how he nuzzles your neck. Honestly, this might even be better than the sex. When he finally pulls away, the look he gives you is reverent, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.
“I’ll be right back”, he says as he gets up.
Fox disappears into the small fresher attached to his office, returning shortly after with a damp towel in hand. He sits down beside you, and with slow, deliberate movements, he carefully wipes his release from your stomach. You mumble some thanks, your gaze lost to a random point on the ceiling as your mind races with a thousand thoughts.
“What’s on your mind?”, Fox asks, his voice cautions.
“Uhm…”, you hesitate, sheepishly meeting his gaze. “Cody’s gonna kill me”.
“You plan on telling him?”, he questions. “Cause I sure as hell won’t”.
You shake your head and exhale deeply. “He’ll know – he always just knows somehow”.
“As far as he’s aware, we don’t even know each other”, Fox counters, his hand resting on your hip. “I think we’re safe”.
“Hope you’re right”.
Fox huffs a small, bitter laugh. “So you regret it then?”.
Your eyes snap to him, and the resigned expression on his face breaks your heart. “No!”, you exclaim, sitting up and taking his hand. “Absolutely not, that was amazing. Honestly, 10 out of 10”.
He gives you an unimpressed look. “Very funny”.
“What?”
“My CC number”, he says. You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. “My designation? CC-1010?”, he adds.
“You’re kidding”. You try your best to stifle your laugh at the serious look he gives you. “Very fitting then”, you manage between giggles.
Fox shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible”.
“That’s not what you said earlier”, you tease. “I think the word you used was… perfect?”.
“Get dressed”, Fox orders, trying to keep from smiling. “We’re going to the mess to get some food”.
“Yes, Commander”, you purr, earning another eye roll.
Unbeknownst to you, Cody has been trying to speak to Fox all night. Besides a brief holo-call a couple of months back and a short meeting last leave, he hasn’t seen his brother in ages and really hoped the gala would give them the opportunity to catch up. Unfortunately, he kept getting stopped by senators and wealthy donors, and pulled into long, tedious conversations. He lost track of Fox at one point, and by the time he managed to slip away, he couldn’t find him anywhere.
Cody did find Thorn, who told him that, considering how much Fox hates these events, he probably went back to his office to get some work done. So the Corrie Commander lead Cody back to their HQ, but when they reached Fox’s office, they were stopped from knocking by the muffled, yet very distinctive noises coming from inside.
The two commanders shared a look, completely shocked by what they were hearing. The fact that Fox would be fucking someone in his office – in the Guard HQ – it was unbelievable. They stepped back and leaned against the wall, trying to figure out who could possibly be inside with their brother.
A senator? Impossible, according to Thorn – Fox hates senators. An aide? Unlikely for the same reason. One of the waitresses? Maybe.
Thorn was curious and adamant about waiting to see who will come out of the office. And Cody – well, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt on his brother.
So unfortunately for you, the moment the door swishes open and you step outside, your eyes lock immediately with Cody’s.
His mouth falls open as he tries to process what he’s seeing – who he’s seeing. Your eyes go wide – almost as wide as his – and you instinctively step back toward the office, only to bump into Fox. You meet his gaze, silently pleading for some help, even though you know he’s just as much in trouble as you are.
“Osik”, Fox curses, his eyes darting between Cody and the other man.
The man next to him – another Corrie Guard commander you suppose, judging by his armor – looks confused. But Cody? Cody looks furious. His face contorts as realization dawns, and he steps forward, eyes locking onto Fox with pure fury.
“You!”, he thunders.
“Vod, it’s not what–”, Fox starts, trying to diffuse the situation.
“You’re dead”, Cody interrupts, his voice filled with rage. “My Padawan, Fox? Y-You… my Padawan? You’re so dead!”.
“Oh shit”, Thorn whispers.
You step in front of him. “Cody it’s-I didn’t mean… w-we-”. The look he gives you could melt durasteel, and it silences you immediately.
“General Kenobi is looking for you. I suggest you leave now, before he somehow finds you here”, he hisses.
“But–”
“Go. Now!”, her barks.
You can’t argue anymore. With one last glance at Fox – who gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod – you turn and make your way to the turbolifts, head hanging low. As you walk away, the sound of their argument follows you.
“We can’t talk about this in the corridor”, Fox insists. “Let’s step into my–”.
“I am not going inside your office”, Cody snaps, disgust evident in his voice.
“Mine’s down the hall, let’s go there”, Thorn cuts in.
You don’t dare turn around – afraid that Fox might look back at you, or worse, that he wouldn’t spare you a second glance at all.
Three rotations later, you’re back aboard the Negotiator, en route to your next campaign in the Mid Rim. You’ve barely slept, your mind constantly replaying the events of the gala. You cannot get Fox out of your head. You’ve tried, really, really tried. You’ve hidden yourself in the Temple – mostly to avoid Cody but also any chance of running into the Coruscant Guard – and you’ve tried to focus on meditation, lightsaber training, anything to keep your mind from thinking about him. But still, Fox lingers in your thoughts.
That’s why you’re here right now, in front of Cody’s office, trying to talk yourself into going in and facing your ori’vod. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t ask what you’re about to ask – but you just can’t help it. You take a deep breath, press the buzzer, then step inside.
Cody greets you with an icy glare – he’s still pissed off, you assumed that much –but you walk to the chair in front of his desk and sit down, drumming nervously on your thigh. Where do you even begin?
“I didn’t mean for it to happen”, you start. “We just got… caught up”.
Cody shakes his head disapprovingly. “If this is your way of apologising–”.
“I’m not”, you cut in. He lifts an eyebrow. “Apologising. I’m not. I don’t regret it, and I’m not sorry it happened”.
“Then why are you here, vod’ika?”, he asks.
“I, uhm… I was hoping you could give me his frequency”, you say, sheepishly looking away.
He visibly tenses, your request catching him off-guard. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”.
“Probably not. But I can’t stop thinking about him”, you confess.
The silence that settles in the office is deafening. Cody is staring at you, his expression unreadable and you begin to squirm under his gaze, shifting in your seat. The reality of what you’re asking come crashing down on you, filling you with guilt and shame. You’re a Jedi – what the hell are you thinking?
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”, you murmur. “I’m sure he doesn’t even want to hear from me…”
Cody sighs and leans back in the chair, his gaze finally softening. “He asked me for your frequency two days ago”.
Your eyes light up. “He did?”
“Yeah. I didn’t give it to him. But if you’re asking now too…”, he trails off, shaking his head. With a few taps on his datapad, your comm beeps. “I hope you know what you’re doing, vod’ika”.
“Thank you”, you exclaim.
“Don’t thank me for this. I’m sure I’ll regret it”, he retorts.
You walk back to your cabin at a brisk pace, unable to hide the grin on your face. You cannot wait to comm him, and maybe, hopefully, see him again next time you’re on Coruscant.
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…”
love story (cause you were Romeo, you were throwing pebbles, and my Daddy said stay away from Juliet.)
anakin skywalker x jedi!reader
requested - anon
warnings - none
note - working on requests currently also cant believe I never had this song requested before hello!!! requests open!
masterlist|taylor swift masterlist
Anakin didn't like rules. He didn't like being told what to do and when to do it. It made him itch under the skin, the feeling returning from when he was a child and he had no say, no choice in his own life.
He liked control, and he also liked bending the rules to fit him. Not breaking them — entirely — no, he just simply liked to bend them. Plead ignorance, selective hearing, he'd once heard his Master say after he'd done something rash yet again.
You, on the other hand? You'd never been one to fall for his escapades. You'd never been one to sneak out of the temple at night to the lower levels, no matter how many of your friends had tried to convince you. Rules were safe.
Safe was good. Safe was alive — and during a war like this one? Alive was something you cherished.
Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to care less about his current status as alive, and it part infuriated, part intrigued you to endless amounts.
You'd be blind to ignore the way he'd matured from 19 to 22. The way his smile made your stomach flip and your body feel warm. The way you secretly enjoyed his incessant following.
It wasn't that he wasn't attractive; it was that for a Jedi to have attachments, you would be breaking your oath. You'd risk the safety and security of the order you'd grown up in.
Still, you gravitated towards each other like the way the sun orbited the planets — far enough away to be safe but never far enough away that you'd lose sight.
Like now, most people in the temple were alseep or off on yet another mission yet you knew he was around. You always knew. Anakin rarely hid his force signature around you, it was like a constant and steady presence brushing against your own in silent question.
He'd always appear if you let him in — on the rare occasion you blocked the feeling he'd sulk but let you be.
You hardly heard his foot steps, the sound of the fountain trickling softly as you felt him near. "You really like it in here." Anakin's lips curled as you turned your head to watch him, his own heart picking up at the sight of you for the first time in weeks.
"I heard your mission went well." He paused besides you, relief almost evident in his tone as you watched the water trickle slowly. "Yeah. No one died which is always a win." Your voice was soft, tired from the constant buzz that was war.
"That's the goal isn't it? Keep people safe, avoid casualties."
You were quiet for a moment, his words filling the air as he glanced at you. "You say that now...but I know you hardly keep yourself safe."
Anakin paused, a eyebrow raising as he pursed his lips in amusement. "Hmm. I guess — maybe I value saving others over myself" He mused eyes flicking around the open space as you bristled slightly. "You have no respect for your own life."
"I'm still here arent i?"
"You get lucky."
"Yeah? I think your glad that i get lucky," Anakin grinned, something more playful now as he turned to face you his arms crossed. "Don't flatter yourself." You watched him from the corner of your eye, one of his hands reaching for a pebble before tossing it into the fountain, before grabbing another and repeating.
"You're not saying no?"
"You're impossible." You couldn't help the way your lips pulled as you shook your head, the familiar back and forth settling like a blanket over you both as he tossed more pebbles, his eyes sliding over to you every so often.
You were both quiet for a moment, the sound of water splashing filling the quiet before he turned to you, a hand running through his hair as he seemed to think for a moment.
"...Did you think about it?"
"I did,"
"And?"
A deep sigh fell from your lips as you felt his eyes follow the way your expression tensed and then fell. "We can't!" His eyebrows furrowed at your words, something like frustration simmering in his stomach at your reply.
"No one has to know." Anakin's voice dropped slightly, something more soothing as his hand reached out to take one of your own, his fingers warm against your cold ones.
"You can't keep ignoring this...ignoring me." His eyes bored into yours as he stepped closer, the distance between you both quickly closing. "I can't ignore it, and I know you can't either," his lips quirked as you sucked in a breath, as if his words pained you.
Because you knew he was right.
"Anakin, it's wrong—"
"Says who?"
You huffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you gestured around with your free hand, "The order! Everyone around us—Anakin, you know it goes against everything we've been told."
Anakin's own breath caught. His grip over your hand tightened as his features darkened at your refusal. He couldn't understand your hesitance; it was far from the worst thing you could be doing as a Jedi— in his mind, at least.
"Well, I don't care what they say is wrong! I won't let them decide this." Something uneasy swirled in his tone, the look on his face one of something bordering on hate as the words fell from his lips like fire.
He was close enough that his chest brushed yours as his other hand tipped your chin up, his gaze softening from the fire you'd seen a moment ago.
"We can figure it out, okay? Just us," Your heart caught at his words, warmth rushing your bones as you felt your defences fall in the same way they always did. You were weak, and he knew it.
"Me and you. That's all that matters."
His lips were on yours before you could even breathe, all thoughts melting from your mind as you pressed into his touch. Any idea of how this could go up in flames seemed to disappear as your world narrowed down to the feel of his hands on your body and his lips against yours.
a/n: so sorry for disappearing for however long!! this chapter is building for the next part so just trust and follow me on this hahah
part four | part two | part one | part three
pairing: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader (fem reader)
*29 BBY*
“Ani,” the audio of the holopad scratches out of the speakers, your voice muffled under Anakin’s hand covering the speakers, “you would not believe how beautiful this planet is.” You huff out excitedly through your audio message. Anakin and you had promised to send each other secret holo-messages during your time apart to keep each other up to date on your lives. Anakin figured it would be more of you updating him on your new adventures, than vice versa, since he was still stuck at the temple, but he still planned on keeping his promise. The holopad lights up again with the continuation of your message, “it’s all lush and alive here, there’s flora and greenery growing all over the palace, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Anakin continues to listen to your message, keeping the speaker muffled with his hand to preserve the quietness, and even pulling a blanket over him to make sure the light from the holopad isn’t seen. He’s alone in his room and it’s late at night, but he doesn’t want to catch the attention of any jedis up late near his room.
Anakin didn’t want to admit it to anyone but he was starting to get nervous that he hadn’t heard from you prior to today. It had been a month since you and Master Plo Koon departed from Coruscant and he knew your schedule would be busy on your mission, but still, he had hoped he would’ve heard from you by now, maybe at least just a short message saying you’ve made it and if you were enjoying yourself or not. He had sent a few over the past few weeks, explaining what him and Obi-Wan had been up to, not much admittedly, but he hoped that if he kept you up with his weekly doings, that maybe you would remember to send yours back.
As the weeks started to pass with no word from you, he started to feel more and more anxious, but the small, rationale part of his brain reminded him that someone on Coruscant would have to know if things went poorly, right? It was surface level mission, more for support and diplomacy, then real hands-on work, so if something did happen Obi-Wan would know and tell him, right?
Thankfully, there was no real concern because when he was doing his readings after dinner tonight, he saw the small red alert in the corner of the screen notifying of the outstanding message, and he felt like he could take a deep breath again. Anakin knew he wouldn’t be able to scurry off so early in the evening to listen to your message, but it was itching at him that he had to wait even longer to hear your voice and your update. Luck continued to be in Anakin’s favor tonight though as it seemed as Obi-Wan was also interested in an early night, and let Anakin head off to his room earlier than usual.
Anakin rushed through his nightly routine so he could hop in bed, pull the blanket over his head, and hit play on his holopad, your voice filling the space underneath the blanket. He leaned his head back with his eyes closed, listening in as you continued on with your stories of this past month. The sprawling greens of the palace, the fountains made of marble and stone flowing with fresh, clean water, and the palace itself, with an uncountable number of rooms, all filled with the most soft and luxurious materials you have ever seen and felt. You even had your own room at this palace, it was nowhere near as luxurious as the royal family’s rooms but you swear that the bed alone in your room was the same size as your whole room back at the temple.
You sighed happily as you explained that the skies were clear on this planet, no continuous roar of ships filling the skyline like Coruscant, no smog or heavy smell of fuel, just blue skies with a soft sweet breeze, and sometimes, a rare cloudy day. The noisiest part of the palace was the birds, you explained, early in the morning, their calls awakening you for your morning rounds, and the sounds of calls outside of your window every night as the birds settled during the sunset.
But when the birds were quiet after the sun had settled, and the light had gone dark outside, you could hear the crush of the waves on the shore. You explained to him that initially you hated the early morning shifts for rounds, but within the past week or so, you really grew to love the sounds of the world waking up at the same time as you. Sometimes you would even be up before the birds and would be outside in time to see the initial daybreak across the skyline that alerted the birds.
Anakin was happy to hear about your new adventure and how great the location was, but he couldn’t help the feeling of envy crawling up his spine. He wanted his own adventure like that, he was sold this idea of what a life would be like as a jedi, but for the most part since entering the order, he’s felt trapped within the walls of the temple. How you describe the planet you’re staying on currently reminds of him of his time on Naboo when he was younger during the battle, he itches for that freedom and excitement again.
He also itches to see Padmé again. As you ramble on about the royal family you are serving, his mind travels to the previous queen of Naboo and what she may be up to now. Is there a possibility of him going to Naboo for diplomatic reasons and seeing her again? The same way you are with your mission? He wouldn’t mind that. Going back to Naboo, showing Padmé the jedi he has become. He had been wanting to keep up to date with the news of Naboo and the new senator, but Obi-Wan’s training schedule has kept him busy.
Your voice brings Anakin back to his surroundings as he listens to you continue on, “I’ve even been able to join the queen and the princess to the town center for their shopping trips, and with the chefs and handmaidens for their trips to farmer’s markets. I haven’t seen anything like it, it’s not like the markets in Coruscant at all. I think you would love it here…I wish you could join me. Maybe I could sneak a few pictures of the grounds to you? Will have to do it when no one’s around though, don’t think I could really explain away why I am taking pictures with my holopad to the rest of the guards or Master Plo Koon.”
Anakin can’t help but close his eyes again and rest his head back as he relaxes in for the night, listening to your voice carry on. Tomorrow morning he’ll regret not pausing your voice message, but for right now, your voice is exactly what he needs to get his first restful night of sleep in a while.
…
*3 months after departure*
“Ugh Ani,” your groan crackling over the speakers of the holopad, “it’s so boring out here, it’s just round after round, every dayyy-yuh,” Anakin chuckles at the tone of your voice, your message from last night playing as he gets ready for his day on Coruscant.
“Nothing’s really been happening, every day seems to be the same out here…at least I get some outside time, it seems a lot of their staff is stuck inside with them. None of the royals really seem to leave the palace, it’s like…a rare occasion for them to even go out to their gardens. Which is mind boggling to me, they spend alllll this money on all of these luscious gardens and luxurious items and they don’t even use them a majority of the time.”
Anakin can hear the sounds of your shoes shuffling in what he assumes are loose stones in the background of your call. You continue on, “I will say though, I have gotten closer with some of the princess’s handmaidens and some of the groundskeepers, it seems like a lot of the workers here are very kind.”
You pause, some more shuffling from your feet, and you weren’t wrong, the birds really are loud around you. “I even went on one of my rounds the other night with Sella, she’s one of the princesses’ handmaidens, and at the end of the round, she asked if I had seen the tunnels. And I’m like the tunnels? I had no idea they had existed, but she walked me through this hidden door behind one of the shelves of the hall, and showed me the emblem on the shelves to show which shelves are actually hidden doors. The tunnels were crazy though, there had to be dozens of them that we walked by on the way to the tunnel near my room. Apparently, there are some that lead to the royals’ rooms. It’s good thing I had Sella with me thought, because I could’ve easily gotten lost in the maze they have built within this place.”
“But also, Sella was telling me about this rumor of a hidden hangar under the palace. She had never seen it herself, because I asked if it’s the same as the one we had flown into outside of the grounds, closer to the town, but apparently, along with the hidden hangar there’s also a hidden bunker accessible through the tunnels” your voice pauses over the speaker, before adding “wait, don’t tell anyone I said that though. I told Sella I would keep it a secret…but it’s not like you’re here anyways.”
“but yeah, apparently there’s all of these hidden passageways and tunnels buried all throughout the palace. I only know about the one so far, but Sella said that there’s a lot more, all built to keep the royals safe and to let them escape if there’s ever an attack or something, which makes sense, and you know…it makes sense that everything would have to be kept hush hush.”
“I told Sella though that we have got to get something like this back in the Jedi temple, imagine how easy it would be to sneak out if we had some tunnels? That would be cool huh?” You pause, catching your breath from talking excitedly, but continue on “oh but yeah, as I was saying there’s not much going on around here right now.”
“I feel like most of my work out here has just been being on call, going on rounds, and going to the town for some of the chores, like shopping or picking up their new wardrobe pieces. Which is fine, I guess, at least I’m not just stuck inside all day, but like, I really thought I would be doing something here, not just playing chaperone for these royals. They have their own guards, so it’s not like I’m doing much of the work, I’m just tagging along with their rounds, but they’re kind of jerks. It’s weird, it’s like they don’t even acknowledge the rest of the staff of the palace.”
“I’ve been here, what? A couple of months now? And I swear the handmaidens and groundskeepers are closer to me than they are the guards, and it’s like the guards refuse to even acknowledge them…there’re only a few handmaidens that the guards will talk to or acknowledge more than a grunt. There’s Vitiia and Mala who are the queen’s handmaidens, I think they have been here the longest… and then I know they sometimes will talk to Sella, but when it comes to the caretakers or the groundskeepers, I swear they don’t talk to anyoneee.”
“My friend Anvril, who’s the son of one of the older groundskeepers, said his dad used to be close with some of the guards since they’ve been here for so long, but now? Nothing. It’s just ugh, so weird…”
…
The sun feels warm on your skin this afternoon, but it’s a welcomed change, having been stuck in the palace all morning with Master Plo Koon, working on some trainings and meditations. Not much has been changing on these palace grounds these past couple of months, but going outside at least gives you a break from the cold marble and stone floors and walls inside the palace.
“Anvril!” you happily call out to your friend from the foot path, spotting Anvril crouched in one of the voluminous flower beds sprawling along the most inner fence of the palace walls. His head whips to stare at you, eyes wide.
“Stars above, you scared me…” Anvril sighs standing up and stepping away from the fence, he looks around dusting his hands off on his pants, “what are you doing out here? You and the guards out on a round?” He steps out of the flower bed and crosses the manicured lawn to meet you on the stone pathway, his eyes scanning the area.
“Oh no,” you wave your hand at him absentmindedly, “just me out here.” You don’t notice how Anvril’s shoulders seem to relax, “my Master got pulled into a meeting with the royal guards and told me to go do a quick round…so that’s what I’m up to.”
You look around him, peering at the bag of tools near the fence and then back up at him, “what are you up to?”
Anvril scratches the back his neck, looking between you and the bag, before sighing out and saying “uh, my dad mentioned that there seems to be a rodent problem on the grounds again, so he’s been having me…check for weaknesses in the fences.”
“Really?” You ask a bit incredulously, “I haven’t seen anything.”
“Ah well, you know, you’ve been on the morning route recently, and these rodents…well they seem to be coming out more right after dusk.”
“Right, yeah” you nod, “huh, well, better you than me.” You laugh up at Anvril before adding, “I don’t really like rodents, there was a small cluster of mites in the temple once, and I swear we could hear the scurrying all night…woke up and there was one in my bed, blegh.” Anvril laughs alongside with you at your anecdote and miming.
…
*7 months after departure*
“Hey Ani,” He hears your voice and then some shuffling around in the background, “sorry I haven’t been sending as many messages, everything is still fine here…well I guess kind of fine. I don’t really know.”
“We had to close the gates to the town center recently, and there’s been some more guards put in place along the fences, and even some guards on rounds now, which is kind of annoying because they’re always just awkwardly walking behind me…but that’s beside the point, Master Plo Koon told me there’s some fears of civil unrest starting to spark up in the town, and I even overheard from the guards that there’s a suspected terrorist group in town now.”
“Nothing’s really happened so they can’t do anything about it yet, but we’ve pretty much been locked down in the palace yards now…which I guess is fine all things considered. Like if I am going to be stuck somewhere, it might as well be a palace, right?”
“I feel like even the royals are starting to get antsy being stuck here, I would like never see them before, and now? Even the king and queen are doing rounds around the greens…which don’t tell anyone I said this” you pause, your voice lowering a bit before continuing “but it’s so annoying because when they’re out no one’s allowed to do anything fun out there. Like it’s bad enough when the guards are out on ‘rounds’ and lurking around the greens too, but at least they’re cool with giving me space and we all kind of do our thing in our own areas, but when the royal family is out? Everyone has to stop what they are doing to keep an eye on them.”
“The first time I noticed they were out on a walk, well it was technically before I even noticed, I was doing my normal route on the stone path following the path a snail was taking, and Master Plo Koon literally had to grab my shoulder and pull me back before I accidentally walked into their group of guards surrounding, but like how was I supposed to know out of the almost year we’ve been out here, that that would be the first day they choose to go outside? And in my path no less? Ugh.”
“The princess comes out sometimes too, and she’s pretty nice, a little weird, but it’s fine I guess, it’s nice to have to someone who’s not old to chat to every once in a while…I’ll keep you updated on anything else going on around here though. Fingers crossed something cool happens and I can finally show all of these boring old guards my training.”
• Anakin Skywalker • Anakin Skywalker fluff • Anakin Skywalker ansty • dream • force bond • Anakin cries • soft smut?? • 20-21 year old Anakin • soul mates • yearning • grief • cried while writing • can’t proof read cause I’m sobbing haha </3
Anakin Skywalker had been having these dreams, prophecies? each night he falls asleep in his bed or halfway through meditation he has these terribly painful dreams. he closes his eyes and drift asleep. he wakes up in a dark void and hears a girl crying for him or calling his name.
he walks through the freezing cold void for what seems like an eternity before he sees her. you. your on the ground with your legs lucked under you. you look up at him and call out for him, your face is streaked in tears. he runs to you, though every step feels incredibly heavy and slow. every single dream he tells himself that he’ll put all his effort to get to you in time but no matter how much ‘effort’ his dream self puts in just as his hand reaches yours you simply disappear. he wakes up after those dreams shaking and gasping. tonight after a long day of training he lays in bed—waiting the inevitable of falling asleep and experiencing the horrible dream.
he finds himself in a dream but not that familiar dream. he’s sitting on a sunbathed balcony, light blinds him momentarily and heat buzzes on his skin. as he gains full awareness in the dream he hears a voice. it’s barley audible and hard to make out but one thing is clear. it’s you. he looks down and sees you laid across his lap in a flowing white dress that looks around your thighs. your hair is tangles and a little messy applying that he had been running his hands through it. though he can’t remember doing so.
he looks to your face. your face covered in miss placed freckles and more darker beauty marks and eyes a striking blue under the sun. your speaking, your lips move and he can see the slight unevenness of your front teeth that make you look so… real. your talking and despite all his harsher dreams in the past where your voice has been crystal clear, in this dream he can barley make out what your saying. he stares at you before you finally look up at him.
you smile softly. “there you are” you reach a hand up to gently trace his jaw, finger tip running back and forth. “what…” his voice just below a whisper. you smile knowingly.
he closes his eyes momentarily, half because he’s savouring the feeling and half because the sun is making his vision bubbly and hazy. he lets you stroke and trace his jaw and then neck. he’s not sure how long it has been but you slowly shift and sit up. he opens his eyes. “My sweet Anakin” your murmur. he doesn’t understand what that means ‘my sweet Anakin’ but his soul does. you lean in and press your lips against his. the kiss holds no lust or hunger. it is warm, soft and slow. after a moment of being stunned at how real it all feels he kisses back. your hands slide down from his jaw and then his chest. hands lingering as they trace his stomach through his shirt before running down to his belt.
“I’ve been waiting for you” you whisper, voice still hazy and dreamy to Anakin. he gasps softly as he begin to unbuckle his belt. “It feels like an eternity waiting to touch you” you whisper. “then touch me” his voice trembles. “don’t wake up—stay with me, okay?” you ask softly. he nods. “I promise. I won’t” he whispers before kissing you and continuing the soft and slow kiss.
your fingers slipped into his trousers before your fingers brushed against his growing arousal. this is perfect and so strangely familiar but suddenly the light grows harshly and the perfect world begins to shift.
“Wait no, don’t stop—please” he whispers as if they could continue and finish this perfect moment in a matter of seconds that grow less coherent and more hazy. his arms wrap around your back, fingers digging into your soft back as if holding tightly onto you will stop you from disappearing. his vision is nonexistent and he can no longer feel you in his arms but he hears one thing.
“I love you ani”
he wakes up and there’s already tears streaming down his face. he chokes and coughs, his hand reaches up to grasp at his chest. he feels like the love of his life has been ripped away from him and he’s only dreamed of her a handful of times. his whole body aches to have her in his arms again, to feel his fingers in your soft flesh and your hands slipping into his pants. he collapses back onto his pillow and immediately wraps his arms around his pillow, trying to imitate the feeling of you in his arms.
I've got a lot of unfinished wips just collecting dust in my folders, so I figured I'd post what was presentable even if it didn't get exactly to where I wanted it. This one's coming to you all the back from 2023, as that's when I still came up with /reader ideas. Quality is nothing like my current work, but the idea is fun enough. Enjoy.
Crosshair x Jedi!Reader
Word Count: 2803
Fic Summary: As the Jedi Commander of Clone Force 99, you've done your best to maintain their perfect success rate, even if they disagree with your methods.
“Commander, Wrecker, move!” Hunter’s voice rang through the comms as an explosion went off somewhere deeper in the droid factory. A handful of droids fell following the blast, but the dent seemed insignificant as waves upon waves of droids marched your way. They were all that stood between you and the exit.
“We’re working on that!” Beside you, Wrecker roared as he lifted a super battle droid over his head and threw it at a wall of on-coming battle droids. Then, a terrible sound. The walls of the factory dragged open as if taunting you with their slow pace. If those doors opened fully, you and Wrecker would be surrounded.
You clenched your jaw and swallowed, closing your saber in order to focus on the massive metal doors scraping the earth. With two hands and the force, you pushed against the mechanism working to open the doors. The weight alone could tear your arms apart, but the others relied on you, and you couldn’t let them down.
“Change of plans,” You struggled to keep a steady tone. “You’ll have to pick us up here.”
“What?” Crosshair hissed, but his anger was interrupted by Tech.
“Copy. Hunter, you’ll want to-”
“I’m on it.”
Behind you, Wrecker kept fighting off the wave of droids sent to prevent your escape, but without your help he was struggling to keep up with their numbers. You looked over your shoulder and sent a wave of battle droids on their ass with one arm, only to hear metal moving against earth in front of you. Quickly, you returned all your focus on holding the doors in place. You could feel Wrecker’s steps moving towards you, a sign the two of you were in a bad spot.
Until finally, the roar of the Marauder’s engines came to save you. You kept your back to the ship, intent on keeping the number of pursuing droids at a minimum, but walked backwards slowly as droids around you started dropping. Hunter called out to you. Wrecker climbed on board first. Then, once he was clear, you dropped your hold on the factory doors and jumped into the Marauder’s cargo bay. Hunter slammed the control panel, closing the ramp just in time for Tech to activate the hyperdrive.
“That was one hell of an exit, ey commander?” Wrecker cackled, but his heavy breaths cut through his laughter.
Hunter let out a sigh of relief. “That’s one way to put it.” The sergeant ran his hands through his hair, pulling the bandana he always wore off to do so.
“We got out and we got the information.” You said plainly, taking the moment to stand and dust off your Jedi robes. “Mission successful.”
Crosshair stood silently, signature scowl and toothpick watching you as you walked out of the cargo bay.
Several hours and a shower later, you stood at the small mirror and sink in your quarters and finished the last of your nightly routine. The mission had been difficult, and you especially felt that weight tonight as you slid into bed wearing only a large nightshirt and underclothes. Your mind wandered to your squad, thinking over their reactions after the mission ended. Everyone had been on edge, but Crosshair was the most notable.
You couldn’t believe he was the same man you shared an amazing night with right before getting your assignment as a Knight. It had been months ago, and yet you found your mind lingering on the memories when you had a moment alone. Nothing could have prepared you for the shock you felt when you came face to face with him after being reassigned. Of course, you ended up sleeping with one of four clones that didn’t look like clones. He didn’t seem to remember you however, and you were happy to keep it that way. His bad attitude only reinforced the trouble that would come if you slept with a subordinate. Now you were only left with pleasant memories during hard nights. Things were better this way.
Just as you turned over to click your light off, a knock came from your door. Before you could give permission to enter, however, a lean clone opened the door and stepped into your private quarters.
“Crosshair?” You turned the lights of your room back on.“What are you doing?” Then, you noticed his clothes. Or rather, his lack of clothing. The sniper stood in only his lower blacks, completely shirtless. “Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?”
He stood stiffly, holding his hands behind his back and looking just above your shoulder, what your previous clones did when they wanted to address you formally. “Actually, commander, I couldn’t sleep.” He kept his eyes away from yours.
The only time you’d seen a member of Clone Force 99 stand at attention was the first time you all met. Your brows furrowed and an annoyed exhale followed. “At ease, soldier.” A part of you was surprised when Crosshair listened, but you decided there were better questions to be asked. One of which, “And why is your inability to sleep noteworthy to me?”
That earned a twitch of his brow. “I’d like to submit a formal complaint, commander.”
Again with the formalities. “Really? And what would that be?”
“Today, you disregarded my suggestion and put yourself and this squad at risk. Your orders were questionable.”
You straightened up in your bed. Was this some kind of threat? To get you reassigned? Your expression tightened into a glare. “And what orders are you calling questionable?”
Crosshair reflected your expression. “You ordered Hunter and Tech to split up from you and Wrecker, even though intelligence supported a unified assault.” He continued. “Which then led to your choice to confront a patrol unit that could have easily been avoided if you had just listened to my directions.”
Your jaw clenched, but you kept your tone even. “First, that intelligence you’re referring to did not account for a fifth member. Second, I confronted that patrol because Hunter and Tech were about to be discovered. If droids were going to swarm a location, one further from the heart of the factory had better chances. And third, Tech and Hunter needed the heat off them in order to steal the information we were sent after. Wrecker and I could handle it.”
His lips twitched as he snarled. “Handle it?” He stepped further into your bedroom, into your space, stopping only at the foot of your bed. “The most difficult part of the mission was getting you two out!”
“Which ensured the information was safely aboard the ship before anyone knew it had been copied. My plan worked. Your complaints are not valid.”
A sarcastic cackle came from the clone. He leaned down, staring right at your eye level from across your bed. “My worries that your disregard for our lives will get us killed is ‘not valid?’” His hiss cut through your chest.
“I don’t disregard your lives.” Your anger sped up your words.
“You put Wrecker in danger!”
“It’s war! We’re always in danger!” You raised your voice and you had to hold yourself back from standing up, remembering you weren’t dressed for this discussion. After a moment, you sighed, trying to regain a sense of balance within yourself. “Do not think I do not care about this squad. Every choice I make is to complete the mission <em>and</em> keep us alive. As time passes, as you get to know me, you will know that to be the truth.”
Anger turned into a raised eyebrow. Crosshair tilted his head, looking down at you like he did battlefields. A shiver ran down your spine at the quiet moment. After staying under his scrutinizing gaze for too long, you turned over and slid fully under your covers, thinking the interaction finished. He was satisfied, or at least as satisfied as he could be, with your promise to show your dedication to this squad and would leave you alone in your bed. He would leave, step out of the door, and you’d hear them close.
Instead, you felt weight on either side of your head push down your blankets and mattress.
“We’re already closer than my brothers, wouldn’t you say?”
“What?”
“You and I, wouldn’t you say we’ve already gotten close?”
Your heart jumped to your throat. He couldn’t be referring to that night? He showed no signs of recognizing you. A quiver opened your lips. “I haven’t any idea what you mean, Crosshair.” For the second time that night, you said his name.
That weight grew as the clone slid one knee up behind you. He loomed over you, though you kept your eyes glued to the sheets you held tightly in front of your face. “Is that why you got reassigned here? Shoved into a tiny ship with four clones. To keep you from fucking any more of us?”
His words sent a tickle to your core that squeezed your cunt.
But that’s not how you should react.
You jumped up, turning to face him and snarled. “You could get more than decommissioned for such slander!”
And then, he was on you.
You don’t know what you expected, maybe there was a part of you that thought this was a possibility, but that part was buried so deep you weren’t at all prepared for it.
Crosshair kissed your lips like a dying man. One arm snaked around your back to push you into him. His lips met yours with a ravenous hunger. Over and over again, his lips found new ways to press against yours. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth, lightly grazing your delicate skin. In no time his tongue found its way between your lips, sliding against and tangling with yours.
You moaned into the kisses, feeling an amplified version of what you experienced while fantasizing at night. That warmth, that sting, that tickle, however you’d describe it, it was growing from your core and spreading to the rest of your body.
As Crosshair kissed you, you heard a click. You pulled back from him, noticing he turned the lights off. Now the pair of you were bathed in the red glow of emergency lights that never shut off. “We shouldn’t-”
He cut you off by licking your neck.
“I didn’t know you were a Jedi at the time, but looking back.” Crosshair lightly nibbled your shoulder. “I should’ve.” He continued teasing you. His teeth grazed against the soft skin of your neck, looming like a threat. You tensed, a mixture of anticipation and desire rushing through you. “You were so concerned about us leaving separately. So clearly fighting with yourself about what you wanted and what you needed.” He bit down.
A loud moan ripped through you as pain turned into pleasure. There was no way that wouldn’t leave a mark in the morning. The thought sent another jolt of electricity to your pussy. After he let go, you felt his thin fingers glide against the sore spot. They spread his spit along the bite mark and felt the indents his teeth had left behind.
With a red wash over the two of you, you caught his eye. His expression was just as intense as when he was arguing with you, but this time anger was replaced with lust. A moment passed as you regarded the other. His eyes flicked from your face to your neck. Yours kept wandering down, noticing the growing tent in his blacks.
Finally, you broke the stalemate. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” A knit grew between your brows. How could a clone understand this? What did he know of the order, of the rules and expectations? “I’d appreciate if you-” You gasped, as he pulled you up, out of the bed and pushed you against a nearby wall.
“Don’t I?” With one hand he trapped you between the wall and himself. The other savored its path down your waist, feeling your curves through the thin nightshirt. At your hips, he squeezed, filling his hand with plump skin. “A Jedi that isn’t staying chaste?” Crosshair smirked and shook his head. “What would the council say if they knew your shame?” His hand traveled further, gripping at your thick thighs. “To keep this chaste,” He hissed in a breath of air. “That’s the real shame.”
“Chaste is not a requirement!” You yelped, feeling his thumb hook into your panties. The digit slid across your bare leg towards your mound.
“You don’t have me convinced.” He chuckled in your ear. Whimpers left you as his hand rounded your thigh slowly, till finally he reached the damp spot growing on your underwear. “That night, you know what I thought?” He leaned closer to you, pushing his thumb in between your lips, not even bothering to move the cloth blocking his access out of the way. “A shame we only had a single night together.”
His words were like fuel to the blaze growing from your cunt. This was wrong. It was wrong then, and it was still wrong now.
“You weren’t the best fuck I’ve had.” He continued. Now, his lips were so close to your ear that every other word had the soft skin brushing against your earlobes. His voice dripped with desire. “But I could tell, you were holding back. It was like you couldn’t let go completely.”
You swallowed, and shifted your eyes down. Instead of the ground, you landed on his hand moving between your legs. You saw the way that your pussy closed around the fabric of your soaked panties as his fingers pushed deeper between your folds. Seeing how his hand moved while pleasuring you felt forbidden. Your breath hitched and a delectable warmth grew in your chest. It was as if what had already transpired was a dream. Watching those long fingers moving between your pussy lips forced you awake. Forced you to acknowledge this was real.
That you wanted it.
No!
What was happening? You couldn’t sleep with a clone! How did you get here? You were yelling at him and then… Your eyes caught on his narrow lips, studying the tiny details that only a look this close could reveal. A slight shine glinted on those lips, reflecting off something in the room. No, no, no, you had to stop this. He was a clone and you were a Jedi.
So why didn’t you stop him?
“Imagine my delight when General Kenobi and Cody introduced you to us as our new Commander?” Crosshair’s chuckle vibrated down your neck. “My most curious one night stand, now my commanding officer?”
“You, You’re remembering wrong.” You doubled down, though the stutter on your lips betrayed you.
A single silver brow raised. “Really? So I didn’t see you prowling at the bar that night? That wasn’t you dressed for attention despite how quickly you ran from anyone that gave it to you? I didn’t watch you gather your wits before sliding onto the bar stool beside me?” His voice dropped as he moved down against your body, stopping at your bust.
Panic and delight rang in your head.
Fascination glued your eyes to his as he removed his hand from your wet folds and used the damp digits to cup a single breast, gently pushing it into his open lips. His tongue lapped over your t-shirt, making the thin fabric cling to your skin as it grew wet from his saliva. Gasps and mewls left your tongue as you struggled to stay still under his lips. Worst of all, Crosshair’s copper eyes refused to leave yours.
That intense gaze. The attention and focus only a sniper could give. All of it was aimed at you. It was almost enough to make you come undone. But you couldn’t succumb. Despite the heat, the throbbing at your crotch and the mind-numbing pleasure coming from Crosshair’s tongue dragging up and down your nipple, you, you couldn’t… hold back.
“Please, I ca-!” The whine cut short as Crosshair closed his lips around your hard bud. From the lines under his eyes, you could tell he was all too entertained by your struggling. It was subtle, nothing like an orgasm from touching yourself, but even still an echo of what you felt from your breast pulsed through your body, causing your cunt to clench down on nothing till only a soft shudder remained.
Finally, mercy. Crosshair drew his lips away from your breast, leaving behind a large wet spot on your shirt. “Already spent, Commander?” His rough voice rumbled against your neck.
You glared sabers at the clone, but his smug expression remained strong. He liked to play with you? Then he was going to learn the cost of this little game he started.
It's my birthday, so I thought I'd post this. Happy Saint Patrick's Day everyone!
Summary: Y/N and Obi-Wan struggle with their Jedi duties keeping them apart.
Warnings: moments of great anxiety
Word count: 7.2k
Rescue Me masterlist | Main masterlist
The Kaminoans had developed what they called campfire rooms to mimic camps in battle at night. The optimal low lighting encouraged camaraderie as well as training the clones to sleep in rough environments. Apparently they figured that us Jedi were used to the same treatment.
Just as well. I didn’t want to be separated from the clones anyhow.
“Yeah, kid, any time you want to,” Skywalker was saying on my left, his face illuminated by the softly glowing light.
Ghon grinned, the familiarity of it making me smile too. “You really mean that?”
“Anakin has a lot he could teach you,” Obi-Wan said. He’d been strangely fidgety all evening.
“More than Y/N can.” Ghon leaned closer to Obi-Wan. “You should’ve taught her to fight better.”
“Excuse me?” I said as the three boys laughed. “If that’s how it is, I’ll just leave you three gasheads to your injuries then the next time you get stupid and hurt yourselves.”
“No, you won’t,” Ghon replied.
“No, she won’t,” Obi-Wan agreed, and the three men laughed again.
“If it weren’t for the Healer’s Code,” I grumbled.
A clone approached our group with a bag. “Rations.” He distributed the awful pink cubes and then went off to the next group. Ghon and Skywalker ate theirs without complaint or hesitation. I knew neither of them had always had access to food, which was probably why they’d take anything over an empty stomach.
Obi-Wan, however, grimaced down at the cubes in his palm, making no move to put them in his mouth.
Ghon nudged my side, and when I looked at him, gave a pointed look to my own cubes. I suspected Obi-Wan had told him at some point to make sure I was eating enough after my time in Dooku’s dungeon on Neftali; I’d never known a teenage boy to be so militant about someone else’s eating habits before.
Touched by his concern, I placed one in my mouth and chewed it once. Twice. Ugh, I wanted to barf. Thrice. Four times. It felt like dung on my tongue. Five times. Six times.
Deciding to risk the danger of choking over the danger of throwing up, I swallowed it and stared at the other three cubes in my hands. When I first joined the Jedi Order, I’d missed the food of my home planet, which was often spicy and savory. Jedi ate plain foods with very little flavor and no seasonings were offered at the Temple. It felt like eating paper.
Now I wished for the blandness of peacetime.
I was just about to ask when the Council was expected to get in touch with us when a voice from the group of clones sitting behind me caught my attention.
“How do they do it?” the higher voice of a clone youngling asked.
“I’m with him,” said an older version of the same voice. “I’ve never seen two Jedi work together so well as the two of them.”
I glanced around at my group, but Obi-Wan was chiming in on a conversation between Skywalker and Ghon about fighting stances. I supposed it didn’t matter; Obi-Wan and Skywalker were quite used to receiving praise for their teamwork.
“They’re good Jedi, some of the best,” Captain Rex replied. I could barely distinguish his voice from the other clones and only because of the quiet confidence with which he’d always spoken. I wondered if he’d grown out of a tube speaking with authority.
“I’ve heard stories,” said the young voice, so quietly that I unintentionally leaned back to hear better. “That the Jedi are brave and strong, but I’ve never seen it.”
“When you get off this planet,” said another clone whose identity I couldn’t discern from the voice, “you’ll probably see it every day.”
“Especially if you serve alongside Generals Kenobi, Skywalker, and Y/L/N.”
Me?
I sat there, stunned. To be included with Obi-Wan and Skywalker…
“General Y/L/N saved me once,” said that same voice of Jango Fett, and I only just refrained from whipping my head around to see which clone it was. Instead, I stayed, waiting for the clone to continue. “It was on Umbara.”
Murmurs went through the group, and something deep within me shuddered. My old master’s final stand.
“Krell?” Rex asked.
“Yeah,” said the voice heavily. “After he ordered the full strike on the airbase.”
In the following moment of silence, I could feel their pain over the losses caused by Krell as distinctly as I felt my own.
I shut my eyes, remembering how Krell had spoken over Rex, completely ignoring his concerns. Guilt swirled in my gut. I’d wanted to say something to my master to change his mind, but I’d been so afraid, I stayed silent as Krell sent the clones into the ravine. Those lives were on me for my negligence as much as on Krell for his cruelty.
“She saved my life on Umbara too,” Rex said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“And me,” said another clone.
“How?” asked the young voice.
“She dragged me out of the ravine when my leg was broken.”
“I was exposed, and she defended me long enough for both of us to take cover.”
The young voice made an impressed sound. “What about you, Captain Rex?”
I heard the dull thunk of clone trooper armor and pictured Rex setting down his helmet. Or had he simply shifted his foot against the ground? “When I rallied the 212th and 501st against Krell, he ran off to the forest. We went after him, and he suddenly came down from the trees.” The long breath Rex let out seemed to rattle in my own chest. “He wasn’t even using his sabers, just…started throwing us around with his bare hands.”
“That’s when he broke a clone’s back, right?”
My own back flared sympathetically as I remembered the great crack the clone’s spine had made.
“Yeah,” said Rex. “Never seen a Besalisk with that much strength. That was when General Y/L/N drew her saber.”
I shook my head in spite of myself. I’d barely exchanged five blows with Krell before he overpowered me.
“If she hadn’t occupied him, Tup never would’ve been able to stun Krell, and I think he would’ve killed all the clones on Umbara that day.”
“He would’ve killed the entire planet.”
Just the planet? Having seen my old master near his end, he had enough hatred to poison an entire system’s worth of planets.
The young clone’s voice broke through my gloom. “I’m glad he’s dead.” Murmurs of agreement went through the group, and I gave a short nod. “And I hope his ghost is stuck in a tree.”
The clones all laughed, but the idea of any piece of Krell living on made me feel nauseous. It was bad enough that some of his practices were still ingrained in my mind. I wanted all traces of him gone from the galaxy for good.
“How’s this?” Ghon’s voice broke through my listening and I looked to see his stance.
“Keep your grip looser,” Skywalker advised. “Getting too stiff’s not gonna help.”
“But hold on tight,” Obi-Wan said with a meaningful glance at Skywalker. “Don’t want to end up facing a changeling assassin with no saber. Or angry Geonosians. Or a sith.”
“Alright, alright, we get it,” Skywalker said as Ghon adjusted.
I frowned. Losing one’s saber was a rookie move and one that still stung from the day’s earlier conflict. What was worse: the fact that I’d lost my saber or that Ghon risked himself to return it to me?
You need to eat.
I glanced over at Obi-Wan. His expression was neutrally aimed at the fire, but I would’ve bet money as a Jedi I didn't have that he was worrying.
It’s been months since Dooku had me, I’m not wasting away.
He did not meet my gaze. People subjected to starvation become more vulnerable to future food shortages.
I looked down at the cubes in my hand, a sudden lump in my throat. Did you research that?
Obi-Wan did not answer, which was answer enough. I scrunched my nose, desperately trying not to allow tears to well in my eyes. How about for every cube you eat, I’ll eat?
Deal. Still not looking in my direction, Obi-Wan lifted one cube up, as if inspecting it. Do you want a countdown?
You’re already one behind.
His eyes snapped to the three cubes in my palm, then searched the ground around me. You didn’t just toss it where I couldn’t see it?
Don’t you trust me?
Not when it comes to ration cubes.
I only just held in my laugh. Instead, I recalled the memory of eating the cube moments ago, knowing that he could see it.
Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to the cube between his fingers, the unmistakable expression of nausea on his face. Then, his hand moving painfully slow, he brought his first cube to his mouth, and his disgust surged so powerfully, I nearly gagged. Your nausea is making it harder for me.
Sorry.
I felt the sudden distance through the Force as he tried to keep his feelings to himself. It gave me enough space to bring my next cube to my mouth, and Obi-Wan mirrored me. Together we chewed with the solemnity of a murder trial, and as I tried to swallow, I wished I were the victim.
I grimaced. I think I’d rather be tortured.
His head jerked in my direction and at the last second, he kept his head moving as if glancing over his shoulder had been his goal the whole time. That’s not funny. Images of Dooku flashed through my mind, and I wasn’t quite sure if they were his or mine.
I’m right in front of you, I’m fine. Relax.
Obi-Wan slowly placed another cube on his tongue and chewed with the hostility that arose when he pictured Dooku’s face. I was his prisoner once, you know. He didn’t torture me, he just sentenced me to die. He treated me with more honor than he treated you.
I matched his third cube. He didn’t derive pleasure from it. He actually hated doing it, I could feel that. But his desire for power was greater than his hatred.
Apparently not with me.
With Obi-Wan’s distance from the Force to protect me from his nausea, I might not have felt his anger if it wasn’t laced within his words. Knowing you, he thought you were incorruptible.
Obi-Wan pursed his lips. I don't know why he would've thought that of me and not of you.
I was already fighting a grin as I said, it’s my darkness.
Obi-Wan let out a large sigh, audible from the other side of the circle, and I fought to keep a straight face.
“Something wrong, sir?” Captain Rex asked him as he joined our group. He looked calm and professional, as if he hadn’t just been telling stories about the greatest trooper terrorizer of the Clone Wars.
“I can’t eat anymore,” Obi-Wan said out loud, studying the final cube. “Something spoiled my appetite.”
“I’ll eat it,” Ghon piped up, already holding out his hand for the cube. Obi-Wan surrendered it with gladness.
“Don’t eat too many of those,” Captain Rex warned. “One of my men ate eight cubes on a dare and nearly sleep-walked off a cliff.”
“He’s a growing boy.” I ruffled his hair. “He probably has another growth spurt coming.”
-
I awoke from my sleep with a start and sat up, blinking away images of Dooku’s face offset from the darkness of the dungeon on Neftali. Trying to banish the images, I focused on the fake flickering of the camplight. The quiet sounds and movements of many sleeping bodies was like almost every other night I’d spent in this war. If I hadn’t known I was indoors, I would’ve assumed I was sleeping outside like on Rishii or Felucia.
Glancing over at my padawan, I noted the sprawl of his limbs and the soft snoring. Skywalker’s position wasn’t quite so haphazard, but he too looked dead to the world.
But Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen.
Where are you? I asked with a yawn. There was no response. He wasn’t sleeping, I could feel that. Do you want to be alone?
Up on the balcony, came the answer.
You forget, I groused, I haven’t been on this planet as long as you.
A little glow of amusement came from somewhere above my head. Take the stairs up two flights and take a left.
Stepping delicately, I walked around Skywalker’s head and over Captain Rex’s feet to reach the edges of the room. Why are you awake? Obi-Wan didn’t answer, and I gave him time as I climbed the stairs. But then when I reached the top of the first flight, the silence started to eat at me. Is something wrong?
There was a slight whoosh through Obi-Wan’s Force signature, and I cocked my head. Did he just let out a sigh?
You’re incredibly distracting.
A slow smile spread on my face as I sped up, wanting to see his face. Am I? How so?
You can’t expect me to lay down five feet away from you and not touch you.
Somehow I don’t think that would escape Skywalker’s notice.
Somehow I don’t think Anakin would mind much.
Turning the corner, I caught sight of a clear door leading out onto a covered balcony. Obi-Wan leaned against the railing, already looking through the door at me. As soon as I pushed the door open, the sound of the rain pelting everything in sight filled my ears.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “About Skywalker?”
Obi-Wan shook his head lightly, already reaching out for me. “I’ll tell you some other time.”
Speaking words aloud was a luxury. Speaking with our minds was a testament to our connection, but the safety of using our voices was incredible.
I allowed him to pull me close, resting my head on his shoulder. He started to sway gently as if to rock me to sleep. “Why are you awake?” he asked.
I held tighter to Obi-Wan. “Awoke and couldn’t get back to sleep,” I lied. Dooku haunted Obi-Wan too much already, I wasn’t about to add to that.
Obi-Wan hummed, the rumble in his chest a pleasant sensation against my cheek. His hands, which had been resting on my back, started to wander up my torso with the intensity of an explorer. “You’re thin,” he noted before running his fingers up my neck, not unlike the way I’d examined the Kamionan female. “And tense.”
“So are you.” I pulled back enough to tap just beneath his hairline. “You hold all your tension right here.”
He lifted his eyebrows, wrinkling the skin of his forehead, making me laugh. His returning smile was so warm, it made my chest hurt. Stars, but I hadn’t seen him smile like that in so long, and his joy had a funny way of multiplying within me. His hands pulled back from my shoulders to encircle my wrists. “You still wrap them.”
“That’s not a question,” I replied, tilting my head at him.
He didn’t look playful as his gaze lifted from the wraps to my face. “Do they still cause you pain?”
“Stop worrying, I’m fine.”
“Do they?” he repeated.
I sighed. “Yes, they still hurt. It’s worse here because of the rain.”
Obi-Wan glanced out at the stormy clouds and waves, looking irritated. Even as he glared, his profile was statuesque with the prominence of his nose and the softness of his lips. Perhaps he was angry at Kamino for the rain, but I thought of the Kaminoan couple. The lights they’d made for each other were all the more precious because of the stormy darkness of Kamino.
I couldn’t help it—I reached up to touch Obi-Wan’s beard. I would’ve felt embarrassed, but Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut while a warm glow radiated from his Force signature.
“You’re my light,” I murmured.
His eyes opened, his eyebrows lowering in confusion. “What?”
“When I feel you through the Force,” I moved my hand through the hair leading up his jaw, “I feel light.”
Something pure and jovial enveloped me like a blanket. Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound a wash of heat warming me down to my toes. “And yet I would follow you through the dark.”
“You did follow me through the dark. And you pulled me out.”
He turned his head to press a kiss to my palm with an adoration capable of knocking the air from my lungs. “You pull me out of the darkness every day.”
I laughed, withdrawing my hands, but Obi-Wan just wrapped his arm around my back to hold me in place. “Are you laughing at me?” he asked, mirth dancing in his voice.
“I’m laughing at us, because we’re spouting poetry in the middle of a war.”
“Poets like war.” Obi-Wan leaned in to press his forehead to mine. “Gives them something to write about.”
I pulled back ever so slightly, strangely enjoying the brief disappointment on his face. “I thought poets wrote about love.”
“They’re basically the same,” he muttered. “Both make you feel insane.”
“And nauseous,” I added brightly.
The corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth turned up, but it was halfhearted. His eyes had dipped down, and he was leaning closer than he had a moment before.
My heart skipped a beat.
Why was he looking at me like that? He’d never looked at me like that before.
Oh I have. I could hear the smile in his voice, but it wasn’t on his face. Just not when you’ve been paying attention.
He leaned in until he was so close that I went cross-eyed trying to see him.
Was…was he going to kiss me?
Was I going to let him?
I hadn’t decided on either point when a quiet flash in my mind made me pause. “Wait.” I pulled out of Obi-Wan’s embrace, staring unseeing through the glass door.
Something was wrong.
I felt the rush of fear before I heard the scream.
Instantly I broke from Obi-Wan’s embrace, sprinting for the stairs.
Where are you going?
Ghon!
I didn’t bother to explain any further as I whipped down the stairs and through the hallway. When I reached the room, I had to duck around clones in various states of bleariness and confusion until I saw Ghon where I left him.
Rex knelt beside my padawan, trying to wake him.
“Stop!” Ghon cried, the shout ripping from his throat. “Don’t hurt her!”
“It’s his mother and sister,” I said to whoever was listening, my heart aching more than my knees as I fell on them. “Wake up!” I cried as I shook his shoulder.
One of Ghon’s arms flailed right towards my face, and I caught it, holding it tightly. “Ghon!”
Ghon’s eyes finally opened, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes wildly searching.
“You’re alright,” I soothed. “You’re safe.”
His eyes locked on mine. I brushed my hand over his forehead where his hair was stuck with sweat. “It was a dream.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was tiny and quiet.
I pulled him in close. “It’s okay.” Rubbing his back, I hummed a tune one of the Rishii had sung just before sleeping every night. Ghon’s body lay tense on his bedroll for long enough for me to have to stifle a yawn of my own, but eventually his eyes fluttered shut and his body relaxed.
I remained, watching him as my hand—still on his back—rose and fell with his breaths. It hurt to see the memories that plagued him. He carried burdens heavier than most, burdens not meant for the young.
A surge of protectiveness shot through me, and I quickly withdrew my hand. Time to leave him be.
I joined the group at the one fake campfire still alight. I settled myself beside Obi-Wan. Maybe the clones would think it forward, but I needed his touch, even if it was just the brush of our arms and knees.
“Is the boy alright?” Obi-Wan asked. He did not look at me, but I could feel the concern he was trying to conceal in front of Skywalker and the clones.
I let out a sigh. “Physically, yes.” I looked around the group. “I apologize that he woke you all. I hope no one thought it was an attack.”
“You said it was his mother and sister?” Rex asked.
I nodded. “He lost them in a massacre. He’s one of the only survivors of his home planet.”
A loaded silence fell, punctuated by a quiet hum emitted by the device in the center of our group.
“Losing his mother will be a scar he carries for his whole life.” Skywalker was staring hard at the fake campfire light, but it wasn’t just the light that was reflected in his eyes.
“We’re all scarred by something or another,” I murmured. “I just wish Ghon wasn’t haunted quite so much.”
Captain Rex clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Your padawan will overcome.”
I gave him a soft smile. “Especially if he has the support I did.”
Rex’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he ducked his head.
Obi-Wan’s confusion hit me through the Force in full. What are the two of you talking about?
I stared at the flickering light. There was a lot Obi-Wan and I shared. As master and padawan, we shared so much time and so many experiences, we practically breathed in the same breaths.
Yet there were some stories I didn’t want to tell him. Sharing them hurt sometimes, and Obi-Wan carried too much of my pain already.
But his unparalleled determination would uncover the truth eventually. Captain Rex had never been able to overcome Obi-Wan's tenacity; he would tell Obi-Wan sooner than Obi-Wan would give up asking. Obi-Wan might as well hear it from me. I had bad nightmares too. Whenever Rex and I were at the same camp, he’d take the night watch so that when I woke…I had someone to talk to.
When you were Krell’s padawan?
I shifted uncomfortably. Yes. And when I was yours.
His light blazed, and Skywalker glanced over at Obi-Wan with a puzzled enough expression that I instinctively leaned away from Obi-Wan. You were having nightmares and you never told me?
I couldn’t look at him, shame heating my cheeks.
Is that why you couldn’t sleep tonight? he pressed.
I turned away, pretending to glance at my padawan who was thankfully still sleeping.
Y/N. There was enough heat in my name that I gathered the courage to peek at his lowered brows and pursed lips. Why didn’t you tell me?
I tried to figure out how to explain the shame that was tightly coiled in my chest. I thought I was weak for being so...bothered. I wasn’t in real danger, and I wasn’t in pain from a real injury. They were just dreams.
Obi-Wan’s disapproval settled into my shoulders like muscle aches. The fear was real. And you didn't have to face it alone.
Krell would've flayed me alive for complaining about such a thing.
But I would've helped you.
I dared to move my knee far enough to bump his. I know that now. His light calmed marginally, but I could still feel his discontent. It’s alright, I don’t have them near as much as I used to.
Obi-Wan’s signature burned too brightly to have been comforted by my words. I wish I could bear them for you.
My chest warmed. And that in and of itself makes the burden lighter.
-
The morning brought a break in the storm and news from the council that Ghon and I were to return to Rishii before nightfall. Out of us four Jedi that spoke with the council, none of us received the news ambivalently. Ghon’s shoulders slumped. Skywalker glanced at me. Obi-Wan’s light burned so low, it was a good thing the council was too far to sense it.
After the meeting, Obi-Wan walked towards me, but I turned to Ghon. “Shall we check the provisions on our ship?”
My padawan didn’t have a chance to nod before I ushered him out of the comm room.
It was hard enough to feel my own despair. I didn’t deal with it well, allowing Ghon to take stock of our supplies on the ship. Once the check was done, Ghon and I sat out on the dry platform and observed the waves. After my final check in the infirmary, we would leave.
I could feel Obi-Wan’s presence at my back. I hoped he was doing something more covert than just staring at us. Better yet, I hoped he wasn’t paying attention to me at all. The lingering shame of my nightmares still burned.
“Did you get some sleep?” I asked my padawan as I ate a ration cube.
Ghon twitched in a way that could’ve been affirmative.
I shifted my gaze to the dome covered with soot, squinting in the light of the sun. It was a very weak sun compared to Rishii’s sun, but it still burned my eyes after days of darkness. “Maybe if you talk about them,” I offered him my last ration cube, wishing it were chocolate cake instead, “we can work out what’s bothering you.”
Ghon waved his hand, declining my cube. “Master Yoda already tried.” He sounded tired, and I knew it went deeper than missing a good night’s sleep. Nightmares, whatever they were about, had a way of eating into one’s soul until it felt grotty enough to only be good for Jawas.
I looked up at the sky, trying to recall the most comforting things Rex had said. The right words could reassure Ghon and make him open up while the wrong ones would make him retreat into and lash out on himself.
“My nightmares,” I said slowly, “were always about my old master.” I wasn’t looking at my padawan, but I felt his Force signature still as he listened. “He used to hurt me. Tell me I wouldn’t ever be a good enough Jedi. Ignore me until I did something he approved of.”
Another, brighter Force signature behind me stilled as well, and I pursed my lips. I’d said too much, and now Obi-Wan was listening.
“What did he approve of?” Ghon asked quietly. He wasn’t sharing yet, but he was engaging, which had to be a good sign.
“Cruelty, either towards the clones or myself.”
“Cruelty to yourself?” Ghon echoed, and the light behind me flared.
“Yes,” I said with difficulty. “He liked it when I told him all my mistakes. Sometimes…if he’d been ignoring me for longer than a day…I would skip my dinner. Or take the night watch twice in a row or train until I was too sore and bruised to walk.” The pain shining from behind me made it so difficult to focus, I withdrew from the Force to quiet my mind. This was about Ghon, not me nor Obi-Wan.
“Why would he do that?” Ghon asked.
“There’s a lot of reasons people do awful things, Ghon, you know that just as well as I do.”
“But he was a Jedi.” Ghon’s face was tense. “Jedi shouldn’t do awful things.” He’d started pulling at a loose thread in his cloak, wrapping it tightly around his thumb until the tip of it turned purple.
I nodded. “You’re right. We shouldn’t.” There was a long silence while he gave a hard yank on the thread until it was long enough to twist between all the fingers of his right hand. “What are your dreams about, Ghon?”
“A lot of different things,” he hedged.
I waited patiently. If he didn’t share, I would simply tell him to spend the morning with Skywalker while I ran the med bay.
“It used to be…” He unraveled the thread, wrapping it around his pinkie this time. “Sometimes it was about home.”
My heart ached. “About your family?”
He nodded, a sort of unstable bob. “But now they’re about the future.”
Obi-Wan’s dusty and distraught face in the Archives flashed in my mind, my own premonition just before the attack on the temple. “When you’re a Jedi Knight?” I asked.
He nodded again, turning his face away from me so that I barely caught his next words. “Sometimes they’re about you.”
That was not what I had been expecting, and I worked to keep my voice level. “What about me?”
Ghon got to his feet. “Can I go see what Master Skywalker is doing?”
“Ghon.” I rose on shaky knees. “What do I do in these dreams?” His eyes were trained on the ground, his head hanging, and he did not answer. “Ghon, I promise you, I will never hate you.”
He let out a little sound that was not quite amused but not sad either. “That’s not it.”
“I will never hurt you either.” He shook his head, and I reached out to place my hands on his shoulders. “Ghon. Say it.”
“You die.” He lifted his head up, and the sight of his watery eyes sent another shock through me. “Over and over.”
My jaw dropped, and all I could do was stare at this precious, hurting boy.
Were these dreams the product of a troubled mind? Or was the Force trying to tell him something?
“Kid, you ready to spar?” Skywalker popped up from seemingly nowhere, scaring me enough that I released Ghon.
“Yeah,” he said and immediately followed Anakin without glancing back at me.
My head spun so wildly, it felt as though the platform underneath my feet tipped back and forth dangerously.
He dreamed about losing me.
Don’t hurt her, he’d cried when I’d tried to wake him up.
He risked himself in battle to make sure I had my weapon.
He made sure I always ate my ration cubes.
“Are you alright, sir?”
I blinked hard, staring at the clone who’d interrupted my thoughts. “Yes,” I said, but my tone was too uncertain. “Excuse me, I’m needed in the med bay.”
I hurried through the corridors, trying to put as much distance between me and my padawan as I could before the feelings welled up too high. With every thundering beat of my heart, I couldn’t stop the whirling of my thoughts.
I’d failed my padawan.
I’d never discouraged his reliance, so sure that giving him the support that he’d never received would help heal him and let him stand on his own feet. But now the idea of losing me tormented him.
That was what had been modeled for him. It’s what I’d modeled for him.
Stars, what had I done?
I burst into the med bay, and thankfully it was empty enough that neither the Kaminoan or the clones gave me anything more than a cursory nod as I walked to the adjoining room.
In the whisper of the door sliding shut behind me, I allowed it all to crash over me. Tears streamed down my face as I braced my hands against the wall.
“Y/N?”
Obi-Wan’s voice made me cringe, and then his hand on my shoulder made me shudder and pull away.
“What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan stood in front of me, eyes full of concern. “What’s happened?”
“I’ve failed,” I said faintly. Or did it just sound faint over the roaring of my ears? The roaring of the knowledge that I had failed at the thing I devoted my life to?
“What?”
“I’m a bad Jedi.”
His lips moved quickly, but I couldn’t hear him. He tried to touch my cheek, but I pulled away from him again, pressing my hands to my face. I needed to say something, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t see–
Breathe.
I immediately sucked in a breath.
Let it out.
I did so, the exhale catching on the knot in my throat several times.
Again.
The voice was Obi-Wan’s.
Let it out.
I blinked, slowly registering that my hands were over my face.
Again.
My fingers were tingling strangely. I peeled my fingers away, blinking at Obi-Wan. When did we sit down?
Let it out.
“I’m okay,” I managed to say.
“No, you’re not.” Obi-Wan tentatively reached out, and I allowed him to take my fingers—which were still tingling—in his hands. “What’s wrong?”
I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears again. “I’ve failed Ghon.”
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you saying such a thing?”
“His nightmares–”
Breathe. You’re getting yourself worked up again.
I obeyed, taking a deep breath.
“You can’t control his nightmares,” Obi-Wan said softly. “No one can, you know that.”
“They’re about me!” I clapped my hand over my mouth, terrified that the clones would hear. Would they think me just as incompetent as I now knew myself to be?
Obi-Wan’s eyes shone with concern as he cradled my face. “He cares about you, that’s not a bad thing.”
I shook my head, looking desperately up into Obi-Wan’s face. “He fears losing me.”
“He almost did, Y/N, it’s not that uncommon–”
Gripping Obi-Wan’s arms as best I could without the full sensation of my fingers, I tugged. “No, Obi-Wan, he dreams of me dying. He fears losing me above everything else, that’s why he risked himself to get my lightsaber yesterday!”
“Padawans protect their masters,” Obi-Wan argued. “If I had to tell you all the times Anakin saved my life–”
“He risked himself for me. He’s overly attached to me.”
“That’s not necessarily–”
“It is my fault!” I burst out. “And it’s because I’m crossing one of the most important parts of the Code!”
Obi-Wan’s expression shuttered, and even though he looked pained, he didn’t pull away. “What are you saying?” His too-calm tone didn’t soothe the way it ordinarily might’ve.
“If…if it was between finishing a mission and saving Ghon…I don’t think I could prioritize the mission.” Another tear welled up in my eye and fell.
“Honey,” Obi-Wan said in a tone far too light, “he’s your responsibility, of course you want to protect him.”
I looked up at his face. “But you’re not my padawan…and I’d choose to protect you too.”
His light cracked and popped like the embers of a home fire. I bit my lip, trying not to cry. “What kind of Jedi does that make me? What kind of teacher am I if that’s what I model for my padawan?”
Obi-Wan’s face fell. Did he also feel bad? Was he wondering what he had modeled for Skywalker? I realized I still clung to Obi-Wan and loosened my grip. But instead of letting me go, Obi-Wan gently brought my hands to the rough tunic covering his chest.
Do you feel the Force? he asked. When you’re with me?
I furrowed my brows and nodded.
This does not remove us from it. The Force is with us.
I slowly shook my head, unable to feel the comfort he tried to impart. “The Force is with Dooku. It was with Krell. Feeling the Force doesn’t mean we are good.”
Obi-Wan’s light whooshed as if I’d hit him squarely in the chest as hard as I could. He let go of my hands and stepped back. “Do you…want this to end?”
Almost instinctively, I wrapped my arms around him, pressing every part of my body into him in the hopes that I could imprint the pounding feelings of my heart onto his. No. Without you, I have nothing.
Jedi were supposed to have nothing.
As Obi-Wan had said back on Taris, this is what we were made for.
I buried my face into his chest, thankful Obi-Wan seemed as reluctant to let me go as I was to stand on my own two feet. For several long moments, neither of us said anything.
Krell fell to the dark side when he started prioritizing his own thoughts and beliefs over the ways of the Jedi. And though feeling the way I felt for Obi-Wan seemed like a beautiful, harmless thing…we followed the Jedi Code for a reason, so our power was never abused.
I could not allow myself or Obi-Wan to fall to the dark side.
“I don’t want to stop this,” I said finally, pulling away enough to glimpse Obi-Wan’s stony expression. “But if we keep doing this, we can’t let it get in the way. We have to give each other permission to prioritize the Order.”
Was it my imagination, or did the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth turn down? I want to agree.
You…want to?
He nodded, obviously frowning now. I don’t know if I can…I can’t just give a part of me. His lips pursed, and I felt his disappointment without knowing if it was aimed at me or himself or even just the whole galaxy. I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to explain it.
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, but I shamefully couldn’t think of anything to say. The idea that Obi-Wan might choose me over our way of life…it was tantalizing.
And so unbelievably selfish. The choice I was so afraid of us making…I wanted us to make it.
We both do our duties. The Republic has our bodies and our sabers for its cause. Obi-Wan’s eyes bore into mine, the beautiful blue zinging me somewhere in my stomach. Do we owe it our hearts as well?
I wished I had the right answer or even any answer. But all I could offer was, I don’t know.
Obi-Wan sighed. Me either. Our collective unhappiness filled the space, rank and rotten through the Force.
I wish we were free.
The sudden words ricocheted from some part deeper than my mind, and Obi-Wan and I were both so shocked by it, we pulled away from each other.
Freedom?
We weren’t slaves, starving and mistreated. With our great capabilities and positions, we had no cause for unrest like the millions, billions in the galaxy who were experiencing cruelty and injustice.
And yet…
Obi-Wan caressed my face with his calloused hands and desperation, his red-rimmed eyes bringing tears to my own. I can’t breathe without you.
How could a statement, so simple and unadorned, nearly bring me to my knees?
When I'm not with you, all I do is wish you were with me, I replied. And that wishing…makes me so sure of how I feel for you.
Obi-Wan thickly cleared his throat, his brows furrowing. “I have been wrestling for months…feeling so resolved one moment and so guilty the next.” He took a long breath and let it out, and I could feel it on my face. “But now I’ve decided.”
“Decided what?” I asked, both fearing and craving the answer.
Whatever happens and however long it takes…it’s you.
My hands started to shake.
The absolute conviction in his words could not be questioned, even as my doubts assailed me. We did not know when we would next see each other. We did not know if we would stay alive long enough to even see each other. And if we did, there was no guarantee that we would both survive this war.
But as I looked into Obi-Wan’s earnest eyes, my own filled with tears.
Obi-Wan brushed them away like it was his solemn duty. Someday, the duties of my heart and my body will be reunited. And on that day, I will fulfill the promise I’m ready to make.
“I’m not,” I blurted. “I’m not ready.” My cheeks immediately grew hot, and I tried to look away, but Obi-Wan caught my chin.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his grip endlessly tender. “I can wait.”
-
Double Seven’s wound was healing better than I could have hoped. “Look at that,” I said in awe as I peeled back the regeneration pad. Just because I knew how the regeneration pad worked didn’t mean it didn’t feel like a miracle.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Double Seven noted with surprise.
I finished pulling the pad off, smiling at the brand new skin covering his chest. “Not bad, Double Seven, if I do say so myself.”
His eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “Double Seven?”
“Oh.” I blushed. “Sorry, CT-4877.”
The confusion cleared way for a wondrous smile. “Is that…my nickname?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be,” I assured him. “You could just be Double or something completely different.”
“I like Double.” He cocked his head, suddenly regarding me with amazement similar to mine for the regeneration pad. “So the Jedi really do give clones nicknames.”
I wiped down his chest with disinfectant; infection of newly generated skin was awful and could be deadly. “Everyone deserves their own name.”
“Master.” Ghon stood in the door of the med bay. “It’s time to go.”
Dread hit me like a blow. I nodded, trying to conceal my disappointment as I squeezed Double’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
“Yes, General.”
I bid the rest of the clones farewell and walked with Ghon to our ship, my footfalls heavy. Where are you? I couldn’t leave without bidding him goodbye.
Waiting.
Sure enough, when we reached the double doors that lead to our ship, Obi-Wan and Skywalker were waiting. Neither were smiling.
“Thank you for all the sparring!” Ghon said brightly to Skywalker.
Skywalker grinned then, a completely warranted response to my padawan, I thought. “Keep practicing, and you’ll be better than Obi-Wan in no time.”
Obi-Wan chuckled, and despite the sadness permeating his Force signature, the chuckle sounded genuine. Judging by Skywalker’s glance, however, he wasn’t buying it.
“He’s already better than me.” I smiled at Ghon, feeling unsquashable affection.
“That’s the hope of every master,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “That his padawans will be better than himself.”
Skywalker and I shared a glance, and I could feel my reaction echoed in him. Us, better than Obi-Wan? Better than the best Jedi we knew?
Obi-Wan seemed to shake off his musings. “Thank you both for your assistance. Knight Y/L/N, your healing expertise was invaluable."
I gave a warning look. “Make sure those in the med bay aren’t released too soon, no matter how stubborn they are.”
When Obi-Wan only grimaced, Skywalker saluted. “Will do.”
Ghon bowed and pulled his hood over his head before walking out the doors.
“May the Force be with you,” Skywalker said to me before turning and leaving Obi-Wan and I by the doors. I watched him go, wondering what reason he had for giving Obi-Wan and I a moment alone. Then I dragged my gaze to face the impassive expression of Obi-Wan.
“May the Force be with you,” I said softly, giving a little bow.
Obi-Wan lifted his chin, and I envied his ability to hide the pain I knew he was feeling. “And with you.”
I turned away. Until next time, be safe, Obi-Wan. The rain pelted against my hood as I strode towards our ship.I don't know when I will see you next, said Obi-Wan, the hum of light in every word. But I promise I will remain yours until then and after then.
