#no because a lightsaber and a shield is such a look...

[weixuldo]

Baby Fever

Anakin x f!reader

This is based off of number 2 of this list :)- I havent really delved into kink writing s sorry if this isnt the best haha- think of the reader as a padme- type figure

After seeing you interact with a lost child- Anakin thinks it’s time you had your own baby to look after…

warnings: P in V, smex, ani has a mean breeding kink, multiple orgasms, mentiond of pregnancy

________________

Floods of invigorating politicians and citizens exited the large Coruscant city center after a successful senate meeting. You had just finished pitching a plan that would excel the economy while also protecting labor’s rights. 

You smiled as you stood from your podium once the majority of the crowds had exited- the whole public eye thing was a bit new to you. 

For the longest time you worked behind the scenes helping other politicians with similar goals; it wasn’t until a few months ago that you, yourself, were appointed as your district’s senator. 

You fixed your dress as you exited your booth and headed for the dimly lit corridors of the massive building. Most of the clamor had moved outside into the city square so the halls were mostly empty. 

As you turned the corner a small smile found its way onto your face once you saw a familiar figure leaning against a marble pillar. Unmistakable robes and lightsaber clipped to the man’s belt. 

“I wasn’t aware Jedi had any interest in politics” you said with a smirk as the man snaked a gloved arm around you before you could pass. 

He pressed his face into your hair as he hugged you tighter to his chest, “We don’t, but you know all of my interest belongs to you”. 

You sighed as he pressed a passionate kiss to the column of your neck. 

“Ani- not here” you almost whimpered. 

He quickly twirled you around to face him before holding your face in his hands, “why not?” he asked with a charming smirk- “we should let them all know”. 

He glanced out the large windows down at the crowds of excited civilians- from up here they looked no larger than ants running for a sugar jar. 

“They all love you, so why can’t I?” Anakin asked with a pout. 

You sweetly smiled before placing a tender kiss to his pretty lips, “you can, and you do- you know the ramifications Anakin, you know we ca-“. 

Anakin cut you off with another deep kiss before releasing you and playfully slapping your ass. 

“Yeah yeah, I know” he huffed, “but they don’t know that”. 

You rolled your eyes at your lover’s childish desires before leading him out of the building. 

To avoid the spotlight and attention of the crowds, you dawned a hooded cloak before exiting the center.

Anakin followed closely behind; a hand already on his saber just in case. Thankfully being in public with Anakin seemed normal to some degree because you had become such a public figure- Jedi were often tasked with protecting political officials.

So Anakin looked no different than a routine bodyguard. 

The crowds were easier to navigate now that you had some practice under your belt. You had almost made it to your reserved speeder when you felt a small tug on the hem of your long dress. 

You smiled once you realized the tugging was coming from a small child, probably no older than four. 

She looked up at you with wonder as she mustered up the courage to speak to you. 

“Senator?” She finally asked. 

You nodded with a smile before turning to her. A wide grin settled onto her small face as she looked you up and down. 

“Pretty” she giggled. 

Anakin stood a few feet behind you, trying to see what was going on over the people standing in the way- he became anxious when you dipped from view.

The Jedi quickly weaved through the remaining people to see you crouched down speaking to a small child. His expression immediately softened as he watched you interact so sweetly with the girl; making exaggerated faces at the child’s comments, pointing out her cute accessories to make her giggle, picking her up to shield her from oncoming pedestrians-

Anakin never really thought about having kids- of course he wanted them someday; he wanted to create life with you and wanted to raise his children with a childhood he never got to have. But it never seemed like the right time.

The two of you had been careful when engaging in those activities to avoid an unexpected surprise when you still hadn’t quite figured out how to navigate your secret relationship. 

But each time Anakin fucked you he got closer and closer to giving up on the unspoken rule; he got closer and closer to cumming deep inside of you without any intention of pulling out. 

You knew Anakin was a passionate lover but you never considered that your sweet, respectful Jedi lover fantasized about locking you into a mating press while he fucked his children into your fertile womb. 

Anakin had no timeline of when he wanted them, but he knew you’d make a great mother no matter how long (or short) he waited.

Though seeing you interact in real time just made him want the fantasy to spring to reality. 

_________

“Hello sweetie, where are your parents?” You cooed at the small girl in your arms. 

She giggled and shrugged, making you frown. 

“Well that’s not good, they’re probably worried about you” you said, scanning the crowd for anyone who held any semblance to the tiny child in your arms. 

She, on the other hand, had no interest in finding her guardians- instead she was focused on the shiny tinsel that had been put into your hair prior to your speech. Innocently, she flipped your hood off and began to touch your face as she admired your beauty in childlike wonder. 

Before you could react, Anakin was by your side; he gently placed the cloak back over your head to protect you from interested onlookers. 

“Ani! You came out of nowhere” you giggled lightheartedly as he guided you off to the side of the still buzzing city square. 

“Who’s this?” He asked with a smile as the little girl in your arms hid her face in your shoulder. 

“It’s ok baby, he’s a Jedi- he’s very strong and he’s here to protect us” you whispered to the little girl in your arms. 

“Jedi?” her green eyes brightened as she became excited at the title. 

She continued asking you questions but all Anakin could focus on was how beautiful you looked interacting with such a young child. How natural you looked. 

Is this how you would interact with your own children? With his children?

He couldn't help but adjust his pants as he felt them becoming increasingly tighter. 

Soon the overexcited child had fallen asleep in your comforting arms; shortly, you began cautiously walking around in hopes to find her parents. The jedi beside you watched as you subconsciously brushed the girl's hair and gently bounced her on your hip. 

Before long you finally stumbled across two very worried adults calling for who you could only assume was fast asleep in your arms. 

“Oh Maker! There she is!” the woman gasped as she reached for her baby. 

The Man she was with breathed out a sigh of relief and quickly joined her as you handed her the sleeping child. 

“Thank you so mu- Senator!” the man’s eyes widened once he realized who it was. 

“We are so sorry to have troubled you- please forgive us for our carelessness” the woman bowed. 

“No, no! It was no trouble at all- you have a beautiful daughter” you smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from the girl’s face. 

“Thank you, thank you so much. We loved your speech- you are just what this city needs” the mother offered before turning to her husband. 

You bowed and met the silent figure watching from the sidelines; “Sorry Ani, we can go now”. 

Anakin just nodded silently and trailed you with an uncharacteristically dazed aura. 

Once you were in your speeder, Anakin hopped in the driver’s seat and jetted off towards your apartment; his strong jaw clenched as he imagined you full with a child.

He flinched as you placed a tender hand on his tensed thigh, “Ani- are you alright?”.

________________________

A cacophony of moans and groans ricocheted off of the walls of your penthouse bedroom as your lover continuously plunged his cock in and out of your abused hole. He had been at it for two hours already and had already cum once (while you came thrice). 

Once you entered your private apartment, all of his carefully crafted will-power snapped and he went feral; the natural urge to breed you, hit him like a bus.

He was all over you; your lips, neck, breasts, cunt- you were his and he was going to make damn sure it stayed that way. 

“A-Ani! S-slow down!” you cried as he jetted his thick cock in and out of you. 

“S-Sorry baby, C-can’t- I gotta- gotta fill you up” he winced as he fucked you through his own overstimulation. 

His heavy balls slapped against your ass and a ring of foam from your combined juices formed at the base of his cock. 

He already came inside of you once, what more could he want?

“Baby- t’s too much! You're-spilling all over”.

“N-no, not enough- gotta fuck a baby into you” he grunted against your bruised neck. 

His confession had your eyes snapping open, “What?!”. 

“Looked too damn good with that baby on your hip- I-I wanna see you with my child on your hip in-instead” he babbled as he pulled you flush against his chest and rutted his desperate hips into yours. 

So that's what this was all about. 

Admittedly you didn’t mind his desires, deep down you wanted the same thing… you wanted him to reach so deep that he fucked one into you on the spot. 

“Oh Fuck Ani- I wan- I want your kids” you admitted ad you raked your long nails down his toned back. 

“Shit babe- squeezing me so tight” he whined as he gripped onto your hips with a caging grasp (surely you would be bruised tomorrow). 

He slammed his hips flush against yours with intense force as he felt the coil in his stomach begin to snap- this was it, this was the orgasm that was going to give you a child. 

He just knew it. 

“Ahh c-cumming! Gonna give y-you a child- Shit! i-i ‘m going to fuck my baby into you” he babbled as he felt his hot, thick, warm seed shoot out of his oversensitive tip into your gushing cunt as your own orgasm washed over your like a crest-fallen wave. 

“Ani!” you cried as your legs began to shake from the overpowering climax mixed with your exhaustion. 

You clawed onto him so hard that you swore you drew blood. Anakin, on the other hand, dove down and captured you into a tight embrace; his mechanical hand making you gasp at the sudden coolness. 

His body shook with pleasure and overstimulation as he struggled to rut his hips into you to push the last bit of spend further into you with shaky breaths. 

Once you came down from your high, you were so tired that you couldn’t even bother to ask Anakin to clean you up; you half expected him to fall asleep inside of you based on how tired he also looked. 

“Gonna make you a mommy- you’ll look s-so good- so round with our child” Anakin mumbled into your neck before slowly turning over so that you were on top of him (his dick still inside). 

You hummed in contempt before drifting to sleep as he gently brushed your hair with hsi flesh hand. 

“The two of you should get some sleep now- I love you” Anakin whispered before drifting right after you. 

You would have giggled at Anakin’s addition of “two” when speaking to you and your hypothetical baby, but as usual your lover was right. 

The famed “Jedi perception” was affirmed 9 months later when you cradled not one, but two small bundles of joy. You sat on your couch as you fed your children and Anakin couldn't help but smirk at the scene before him, this is just what he wanted… he couldn’t wait till you could have another one. 

***

(a/n: ngl im not crazy big on kids but breeding is hot 🤭🤭 hope this lived up to the idea on the list :0)

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

A Jedi's Weapon

I've been thinking about Lightsabers recently. Everyone knows them, everyone likes them, and I'm pretty sure everyone reading this wanted one when they were a kid. But lately, I've been thinking about what they represent.

Lightsabers are weapons, yes, but it's not their only function. They are useful tools, and not only in combat, but in everyday life to light fires, to cut down the branches of trees when your travelling through a forest, etc. But most of all, I like the symbolism and the meaning they have for the people of the galaxy.

Everyone can pick up a blaster and shoot. And although aiming is harder, it's nowhere near the level of difficulty that achieving mastery in lightsaber combat is. Lightsaber dueling has several forms, all of them unique and useful depending on the situation and the individual, which is amazing if you think about it hard enough.

Blasters are almost always used to kill. Sure, there are stun blasters, and Jedi do seem to be able to use them when the situation calls for it (Obi-Wan killing Grievous with a blaster in ROTS immediately comes to mind). But, if you want to defend yourself with a blaster, the only thing you can do is shoot back, aka aiming for the kill, kill them before they kill you. That's why Luke using a blaster is portrayed as a sign that he's not a Jedi yet, that's why Ezra using a blaster instead of reconstructing his lightsaber/blaster hybrid is used to signify a dangerous shift in his thinking.

Lightsabers are dangerous, yes, but the greatest danger doesn't come from your opponent attacking you before you can lift your weapon. Even Force-adepts have quicker ways to kill you if that's what they wanted to do (look at how often Vader actually uses his lightsaber in the OT, for example, the only person he kills with it is Obi-Wan and that's because Obi-Wan let himself be killed; very clearly, Vader prefers Force Choking, which is entirely fair).

The greatest danger of a lightsaber comes from your own blaster bolts being reflected right back at you. That is a good incentive to surrender and solve things in relative peace, instead of a firefight. Even if that's not enough to stop you, even if you shoot anyways, it gives you some pause, which a blaster can't do.

When it maims, it cauterizes the wound, which prevents you from dying of bloodloss and makes it easier to find medical treatment (think of Luke in ESB).

When it kills, it kills fast and immediately, if your opponent knows where to hit. (Think of Qui-Gon in TPM, where he gets to say his last words to Obi-Wan and doesn't seem to be in much pain).

Dexter says this, in Jedi Apprentice. What the lightsaber represents to the people. Hope, safety, there's someone to protect us now… unless you are the one opposing the Jedi, of course. No other weapon inspires so much hope and fear.

It's a weapon it takes a lot of time and effort to master. It's almost a self-imposed limitation.

It's a weapon with sacred value, unlike many others. It's a unique weapon connected to its user's soul. It's a weapon which is used to protect, to defend. It's a sword used as a shield.

It's the weapon of a Jedi.

A more elegant weapon, from a more civilized age.

[padawan-snack-packer]

[TW: Andor season 2 spoilers, mild jedi critique (but nothing "too anti-jedi"), I swear lol. Also this is a long post]

I’m going through the Andor tags and just wanted to throw in my two cents—

I’m seeing a lot of people saying things like “This is why the galaxy needs the Jedi!!” especially in response to what almost happened to Bix, and look, I get it. I understand the feeling. You see someone you love, a character who’s already been through hell, nearly suffer something unspeakable, and you want to believe there’s a big shining hero somewhere who could have stopped it. I get wanting that.

Desperately.

But honestly — and I say this with so much love — I think that’s missing the point of Andor.

Bix doesn’t need a Jedi.

She needs the Empire to fall.

Just like so many people in the galaxy.

The existence of Jedi wouldn’t have saved her. They never saved "everyone". That’s part of the tragedy of the galaxy long before the Empire ever rose. The Jedi were never a cure for systemic evil — they were a bandage, stretched thin and fraying, over a wound that was already hemorrhaging underneath.

They couldn’t be everywhere. They couldn’t protect everyone. They were never meant to be an army, or the galaxy’s emergency hotline, like some kind of cosmic 911 with lightsabers. They were an order of monks trying to hold back the tide with their bare hands.

And, yeah — I know. They did do good. They saved people. They fought for peace, they fought for justice, and they believed in something bigger than themselves. I'm not denying that. The galaxy would have been a lot worse off without the Jedi trying to shield it for as long as they could.

But, we also have to be honest: sometimes their actions made things worse. The Jedi got pulled into the Clone Wars — and in doing so, they unintentionally dragged neutral systems and innocent worlds into conflict. They became generals in a war they were never supposed to fight. They stood next to the Senate while it crumbled into corruption. And sometimes, trying to help, they made choices that played right into the hands of the people trying to tear everything down.

And that’s the heartbreak of it.

They were good — but they were never enough.

Because no single order, no group of "heroes," could be enough to fix a galaxy that was rotting from the inside.

Expecting the Jedi to fix everything is kind of like saying "the Avengers could fix anything."

Like—sure, you can punch a big threat in the face. You can stop an alien invasion or a rogue AI or a mad titan. But you can't punch poverty. You can't swing a lightsaber at systemic oppression. You can't duel your way out of generational inequality, or the slow grinding violence of a society built to serve a few at the expense of everyone else. You can't stop politicians selling people out for profit with a Force push. You can't heal a galaxy bleeding out under decades of neglect and cruelty just by being "brave" or "good".

The roots of the problem go too deep. They're built into the very foundations.

And the tragedy of the Jedi is that for all their power, for all their wisdom and discipline and sacrifice, they were still operating inside a system that was already collapsing. They were caretakers in a house with a rotting foundation. And sometimes, in trying to hold the walls up, they made the cracks worse.

And that's what Andor is showing us with brutal clarity:

No Jedi sweeping in with a lightsaber is going to save Bix.

No wise Master is going to show up to make the pain go away.

No ancient code can fix an empire built on exploitation and cruelty.

The people suffering under the Empire don’t need a mythical savior.

They need the Empire to fall.

They need justice that doesn’t rely on someone being "special enough" to wield a lightsaber.

They need change built by ordinary hands, stubborn hearts, and impossible choices.

Andor doesn't say "We needed heroes with powers." It says "We needed the people who were already bleeding to choose to stand up. And die. And fight. And win."

It says no outside savior is coming. No prophecy is going to unfold neatly in your favor. No chosen one is going to sweep in and fix the brokenness for you.

It's going to be you. And it's going to cost you everything you have. And you might not even live to see it change. But you fight anyway.

Because the galaxy won’t be saved by miracles.

It’ll be saved by people who refuse to stop hoping, even when hope looks like madness.

Andor isn't a story about how "we need the Jedi back". It's a story about how we need each other — even when it costs everything.

This isn’t me being anti-Jedi, or pro-Sith, or anything like that.

This is coming from someone who adores Jedi. Someone who loves The Clone Wars with their whole heart. Someone who has cried over Ahsoka’s heartbreak, over Anakin’s fall, over Obi-Wan carrying a war he never asked for on his back.

But Andor shows us a different part of the galaxy. It shows us a galaxy where people don’t have magic powers. Where people don’t have lightsabers to cut a clean path through corruption and cruelty. Where they don’t have ancient prophecies telling them they're destined to save the world. Where they don’t have Chosen Ones. Where they don’t have plot armor.

They have only themselves.

Only their grief.

Only their anger.

Only their aching, stubborn love for the people around them.

Only their desperate choice to stand up, to survive, to resist — even when it costs them everything.

And that’s what makes it hurt so much more. Because these aren’t superheroes or legendary warriors. These are ordinary people — bakers, mechanics, fishers, smugglers, orphans, parents, farmers, pilots, factory workers — staring down a machine so massive it barely notices they exist. And somehow, despite how small they are, despite how doomed it feels, they choose to fight anyway.

They choose to matter. That’s the heartbreak.

And that’s the point.

Saying “Well, a Jedi could have saved her” is — lovingly — missing what the show is trying to carve into us with every agonizing scene.

There is no cavalry coming here.

There is no one coming with a lightsaber to cut down your oppressors.

There is only you, and the people you trust, and the terrifying, beautiful decision to say no more even when the galaxy wants to crush you into dust.

Bix isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Cassian isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Brasso isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

Mon Mothma isn’t waiting for a Jedi.

None of them are waiting for a Jedi.

They are surviving in spite of their absence.

They are building rebellion from broken pieces, bloody hands, and stolen breaths.

And that’s what makes it powerful.

That’s what makes Andor hit so hard it feels like it rips you open.

It says: no one is coming to save you. So you save yourselves. And you save each other.

And maybe that’s how you light the fire.

[lowaltitude]

Conviction (2) | Anakin Skywalker

- Star Wars AU - x Reader

❪ FEM! ❫

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

𖥻 Anakin Skywalker x FEM!reader, in which the war is ongoing. You've been summoned back after years away—by Obi-Wan... 𖥻 ideological clash, the Force philosophy, emotional tension, and the “torn between two truths” weight on your shoulders 𖥻 7k WORDS. slight cringe? unintentionally seems like a love triangle. flashbacks. a lot of back and forth in this one sorry. PART ONE HERE PART TWO.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Everything is fracturing now. Obi-Wan’s waiting in the shadows with something dangerous. The Council is watching you too closely. And Anakin? He’s on edge, desperate to protect you—and quietly, maybe, ready to burn the galaxy.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I didn’t sleep when I returned.

The Temple was quiet. Too quiet. Like the Force was holding its breath. I stood alone in the training courtyard, watching the stars overhead. Waiting for the ache in my chest to fade. It didn’t.

He hadn’t followed me. But I still felt Obi-Wan’s presence like a phantom limb. Like he’d left part of his shadow behind.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Anakin didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside me, arms crossed, gaze on the sky like he was searching it for answers.

“You saw him,” he said at last.

I nodded.

“He asked you to stay.”

“He always was good at asking.”

Anakin’s voice dropped, raw and sharp. “And did you want to?”

I turned to face him fully. “I didn’t say yes.”

“But you didn’t say no right away either,” he snapped.

Silence. Then guilt flickered across his face. He stepped closer. Hands on my shoulders now. Less anger. More desperation.

“I just—” His voice cracked. “I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to them.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” I said. “But this thing between us? The Council’s watching. They want to use me as a tether. Or a trap.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why—” He hesitated. Then:

“I want to leave.”

My breath caught. “What?”

“Not because I’m running,” he said quickly. “Because I know the Council won’t stop until they’ve torn you apart trying to figure out where your loyalties lie. If I step down… maybe it gives them someone else to blame. Maybe they back off.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m not giving up,” he said. “I’m choosing you. And I’d rather choose that than let them use my title to hurt you.”

For once, I had no words. Only the terrifying weight of something too big for the war we were standing in.

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

Plo Koon spoke softly.

“She returned alone. But we all felt the shift.”

Mace frowned. “Skywalker’s behavior grows more erratic.”

“She is the bridge between them,” Ki-Adi Mundi said.

“And bridges burn,” Windu muttered.

Yoda opened his eyes. Tired. Knowing.

“Much darkness still surrounds Obi-Wan. But the girl…” He paused. “Her pain shields her from it.”

“Do we detain her?” someone asked.

“No,” Yoda said. But he looked sad when he added: “We watch.”

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

A lightsaber ignited in the dark.

Red.

Not Obi-Wan’s.

A figure stepped forward—cloaked, masked, loyal to him.

“They’re moving,” the voice said.

Obi-Wan stood in silence before an old holo-map.

“Good,” he murmured. “Let them. The more pressure they feel... the more truth begins to crack.”

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The Council didn’t say the words “test.” But I knew what this was.

The mission was to Daro—a communications relay station the Republic had all but forgotten. Sabotaged tech, missing troopers, scattered intel. No tactical value.

But the Order wanted eyes on it anyway.

Wanted me on it.

Alone.

“We believe it may be compromised by Separatist agents,” Master Windu said, tone clipped. “This will be an assessment of judgment under isolation.”

Master Yoda watched me the entire time. So did Skywalker.

So did everyone.

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

I was twelve. Still a Padawan with too-long sleeves and a too-serious face. And he had just lost Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan wasn’t teaching me, not officially. But sometimes—between war councils and meditation chambers—he would find me.

I wasn’t supposed to be in the gardens.

The curfew had been announced hours ago. But I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t meditate. Couldn’t stop hearing the echoes of Council debates through the Temple walls.

The war hadn’t begun yet, but something already felt wrong in the Force.

So I climbed the steps. Past the statue of Garsai the Brave. Past the wind chimes that only rang in the presence of strong energy shifts.

And there he was.

Obi-Wan.

Sitting cross-legged beneath the flowering tree that bloomed only once every decade.

His saber was disassembled beside him. His gaze was distant. But when he heard me, he didn’t turn or scold or send me away.

Just said: “You’re holding your breath.”

I froze.

“I—sorry, Master Kenobi, I didn’t mean to—”

“I meant in the Force,” he said. Now turning, finally looking at me. “You’re holding too tightly. Always braced for something.”

I hesitated. “Because something is coming.”

He smiled, soft but tired. “Yes. But you’re still a child. You shouldn’t have to feel that yet.”

I didn’t answer. I just sat beside him. Not close. Not too far. The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was… reverent.

He picked up the saber piece nearest him.

“Balance isn’t about stillness,” he said, like continuing a thought I hadn’t heard. “It’s about presence. Knowing when to move. And when to wait.”

I watched his hands. I always watched his hands. So precise. So careful.

He glanced at me. A rare warmth behind his eyes.

“You’ll be strong,” he said. “But don’t let them convince you that strength means silence.”

And that was the first time I realized: He wasn’t just carrying Qui-Gon’s legacy. He was drowning in it.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ years later .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

It was Anakin who’d started noticing. Not in a measured, distant way. Not like Obi-Wan.

He never touched. Never said. But his gaze would catch—especially when he thought I wasn’t looking. Especially after a Senate mission with her.

Padmé Amidala.

He looked at her like the galaxy had given him a secret.

And I—

I thought that would be the end of it.

Until it wasn’t. Until it was me he stayed up too late talking to. Until the looks stopped being cautious. Until the war wore us both down enough that we started reaching for the one person who felt like gravity.

The shuttle was quiet. Lights dimmed. Most of the delegation asleep in their quarters.

I couldn’t sleep. Again.

I found the viewport room empty—until it wasn’t.

Anakin entered like he belonged there. Like he knew he’d find me.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside me, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

We’d just returned from Naboo. Another diplomatic success. Another week watching him circle around her.

He looked at her like the galaxy owed him something beautiful and she was the proof.

And me? I was the Jedi they sent to keep things from going off script.

I was always off-script around him. Anakin saw me like I was a problem he couldn’t solve. Or didn’t want to.

“You’re quiet,” he said finally.

I shrugged. “Not much to say.”

“Since when?”

I almost smiled.

He leaned a little closer, voice lower. “You were brilliant, you know. With the Naboo senators. You think no one notices when you fix things, but I do.”

I turned to face him—and there it was.

The look.

The one that wasn’t cautious anymore. That didn’t belong to a Jedi. That didn’t belong to a soldier. That belonged to a man standing way too close to the edge.

“I’m not like you,” I said quietly. “You walk into a room and everyone sees you. I’m just… background.”

His gaze sharpened. “Don’t say that.”

“I know what this is,” I said, heart pounding. “I know you have feelings for her.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “I did.”

“You do.”

“No,” he said. And this time, he didn’t look away.

“She was a dream. But you…”

He moved closer, then stopped. Inches away. The Force between us felt too loud. Like it couldn’t decide whether to bind or break.

“You feel real.”

And I—

I almost reached for him.

I wanted to.

But my hand stayed at my side. Because the Order. Because the war. Because I was terrified of what I’d find if I let him in.

Instead, I whispered:

“We’re not supposed to.”

His voice was a thread. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

He didn’t kiss me. I didn’t let him.

But we both felt it—how close we came.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

That same energy hummed in my bones now.

Because the two men who shaped my path—the one who taught me to think and the one who taught me to feel—were still pulling from opposite ends of my soul. And I didn’t know how much longer I could stay in the middle.

The shadows were wrong the moment I stepped inside.

Echoes. Too many for an empty outpost.

I drew my saber but didn’t ignite it. Something was here. Watching. Waiting. And then— The lights flickered.

A holoprojector whirred to life on its own.

And there it was.

Him.

Obi-Wan. Older. Wearier. Recorded within the last week.

“I don’t know if this message will reach you. But if it does… you’ll know it’s me.”

My knees almost buckled.

“Y/N,” his voice said, calm and low. “This is not an ambush. There is no enemy here but the one they’ve created in your mind.”

He looked right at me.

“I taught you to question. To seek balance. So ask yourself—is the war keeping the peace… or protecting power?”

His image shimmered.

“I never wanted to hurt you. But I can’t let them use you, either. You deserve truth. You deserve freedom.”

And finally—

“If you come… come as you are. Not their weapon. Not his shadow.”

The recording ended.

Silence. But my heart was pounding.

The projector blinked out. But Obi-Wan’s voice still echoed in my skull.

I sat down on the cold floor, breathing hard, still half-listening for danger.

Was this a message… or a test? Was this a warning… or an invitation?

I pressed trembling fingers to my temple. The Force felt like a pulled thread, tight and fraying—his presence still buzzingbeneath my skin from years ago. Not the war, not the saber, but something… personal.

And then— a sound.

Not from the recording.

From here.

Footsteps.

I was on my feet instantly, saber in hand, heart in my throat. The station groaned as someone stepped into the light from the outer corridor.

Armor. White. Dirt-streaked. Familiar.

“Rex.”

The clone commander held up his hands. “Easy, General.”

I blinked at him. “They sent you?”

“No,” he said, grim. “I came before they could.”

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

“They’re hiding something,” Windu said flatly. “She received a transmission and never reported it.”

“It was encoded,” Ki-Adi-Mundi added. “A pattern we’ve traced to Kenobi.”

Silence.

Then:

“She has not acted against us,” Plo Koon said gently.

“But she hasn’t acted for us, either,” Windu countered. “The longer we wait—”

“Enough,” Anakin snapped.

The room turned.

“She’s loyal.”

Yoda stared at him, unreadable. “To the Jedi? Or to you?”

Anakin’s jaw tightened. “To the Republic. That’s what she chose.”

But even he heard the crack in his voice. He turned before they could press further, robes snapping behind him as he stormed out of the chamber.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back on daro .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

“You weren’t supposed to find me,” I said.

“I wasn’t supposed to know how,” he replied. “But General Skywalker didn’t leave that to chance.”

My chest ached.

Rex dropped his helmet to the ground. “The Council’s getting jumpy. There’s talk of pulling you off rotation. Or... detaining you.”

I blinked. “Detain?”

He didn’t look at me. “They think you’re compromised.”

I stepped back. “They think I’m bait.”

Rex didn’t deny it.

But before I could speak again— The console lit up. Not Republic. A hidden transmission—encoded so specifically, so personally, that only I could interpret it. Short. Raw. A flickering string of data embedded in old Naboo diplomatic code.

Only I would recognize it.

The kind of encryption Obi-Wan taught me to build as a child… back when we spoke in puzzles across Temple archives, just to see if we could.

I played it.

Not a full message. Just a sound. A melody. Four notes, plucked slowly in the exact rhythm I hadn’t heard since I was a child—when I couldn’t sleep, when the halls of the Temple felt too big and too cold.

It was a lullaby from a world I barely remembered.

He used to hum it.

Once, when I was twelve and afraid and convinced I’d never belong here, Obi-Wan had knelt beside my bunk, laid two fingers over my temple, and told me the stars always listen—even when the Jedi don’t.

That melody played again now. Faint. Distorted.

"If you remember this," his voice said, soft, low, "then you remember who you were meant to be."

The screen flickered. No real visuals, just one location.

A crumbling old observatory at the edge of a neutral system. A place the Order had once used for outer-rim navigation. My throat dried. My blood roared.

He was asking me to come.

Alone.

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

The Force shivered.

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, standing at the edge of a craggy cliff, wind slicing through his robe. Somewhere across the stars, he felt her—waver.

Not break.

Not yet.

But something shifted.

A decision made.

He closed his eyes. Let the storm rise around him.

“You always saw too much,” he murmured to the wind. “That’s why they’ll never trust you.”

A voice behind him: “And you think you’re the one who deserves it?”

Obi-Wan didn’t turn.

“Deserve?” he echoed. “No. But I’m the only one left who understands what she is.”

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back on daro .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ─────

“I have to go,” I said.

Rex stood in front of the door. “You do, and they’ll brand you a traitor.”

“I don’t care what they call me.”

He swallowed hard. “But he will.”

I met his eyes.

“I don’t think Anakin believes in the Order anymore.”

“Then what does he believe in?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Me… maybe.”

For a second, the air was too still.

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

The night was silent.

I had snuck out of my quarters again. Couldn’t stop the way the stars clawed at my chest—too far away, too bright.

“Why here?” he asked, stepping into the temple archives doorway.

I didn’t look up. “Because books don’t expect me to be strong.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, gentle. “They don’t expect anything. They just offer what they know.”

He sat beside me. Pulled up an ancient holomap of the Mid Rim.

“There’s a system here,” he said, tapping the screen. “Little moon. No name. But the wind there sings like a chord. Not unlike your melody.”

“You’ve heard it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. But I dreamed of it once. And when I did... I saw you there. Older. Stronger. Standing at a threshold.”

“A threshold?”

He nodded.

“One path led to duty. The other to truth.”

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

Ecliptical Station 14, an abandoned Jedi Star Chart Repository had been dark for years. No Jedi patrols. No maintenance crews. Just the ghosts of old systems blinking in the walls—like the stars still trying to be remembered.

I stepped off the borrowed transport alone.

No clones. No Council eyes.

Just me.

I passed through the shattered outer gates. The door hissed closed behind me.

And in the silence, I felt how Obi-Wan didn’t hide his presence.

He waited at the heart of the observatory—cloak off, sleeves rolled, like the battlefield had never ended. The blue starmap glow painted his face in soft pulses. He looked older than I remembered.

Not worn. Just… tired of pretending not to be.

"You came," he said.

I nodded, pulse thudding.

He smiled faintly. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“You always knew I would,” I said.

He stepped closer. “You still listen.”

“I still question.”

"Good." We stood in that silence for a heartbeat too long. Then he said— “They want you to forget who you are.”

“I’m not lost.”

“No?” His voice turned razor-sharp. “Then why does the Council want you monitored like a prisoner?”

I didn’t answer and he stepped closer.

“They made you a soldier. They watched you nearly die in campaigns that weren’t yours. And when you started asking why—they stopped listening.”

He wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t let him be right.

“They’re afraid you’ll tell the truth,” he said softly. “And they’re right to be afraid.”

“I’m not here to be your weapon.”

Obi-Wan’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re not mine. You’re yourself. But if you walk back to them now—they’ll take even that.”

His hand hovered near mine.

Not touching.

But close enough.

“I can’t fix the Order. But I can build something new. Not ruled by fear. Not bound by corruption.”

I stared at him.

His voice was quieter now. The voice that used to guide me through night terrors and silent doubts.

“I didn’t ask Anakin,” he said. “Because I knew what he’d say.”

“I’m not him.”

“No,” he said. “You see more clearly.” A beat. “You always did.”

My throat closed. My saber felt heavy at my side.

“Why me?”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“Because you’re the only one I trust to change things. Because deep down, I think you know… I’m not the one who fell.”

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

“He’s contacting her again,” Mace Windu said.

“Let her go to him,” Anakin snapped. “You want a spy? You’ve got one.”

Yoda’s gaze pierced through him. “Worried, are you?”

Anakin didn’t speak.

He was burning.

He could feel her heartbeat echo through the Force like it was his own.

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

Obi-Wan had moved closer again. The tension in the Force buzzed like a current between us.

“I won’t fight you,” I whispered.

“I hope you won’t have to.”

I swallowed. “I have questions.”

“You always have,” he said. My hand didn’t reach for my saber. But it didn’t move away either. Then— A sharp, clean snap-hiss.

Not mine.

Not Obi-Wan’s.

Anakin.

He dropped from the upper catwalk, like a storm hitting the ground. Saber drawn. Eyes on Obi-Wan.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Anakin said coldly.

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch. “And yet I did.”

They stared at each other like two twin stars ready to collide.

“Stop it,” I said, breath hitching. “Both of you.” But the Force was screaming now. Because something had already begun. And none of us knew how to stop it.

Blue and red. Anakin’s saber hummed just inches from Obi-Wan’s. Neither struck. Not yet.

Just two men—once brothers—staring across the void of a galaxy that had already broken them in different ways.

“Stand down,” I said. My voice felt thin. Frayed.

They didn’t blink.

Obi-Wan’s voice was low, steady. “I didn’t come to fight.”

“You didn’t come alone, either,” Anakin shot back, voice like a blade.

He was looking at me now. Not in anger. In betrayal.

“I came because I had to,” I said quietly.

“To him?” Anakin snapped. “You knew what this was. What he wanted. You knew, and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “Because I didn’t know.”

“That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said calmly.

Anakin’s saber flared. “Don’t.”

But Obi-Wan stepped forward, slow, palms open. “The Council sent her to spy on me,” he said, “but they underestimated her. You all did. She doesn’t follow orders. She follows the truth. Even when it hurts.”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Because I knew what was coming—

He turned to me.

“Tell him.”

Silence.

The Force pressed into my chest like a hand made of stone.

I looked at Anakin.

“I chose the Republic,” I whispered.

He didn’t blink.

My voice cracked.

“I chose you.”

He closed his eyes.

But it was Obi-Wan who spoke next.

“Then why are you here?”

I opened my mouth— and the memory slammed into me like a wave.

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

“Why me?” I’d asked, sitting cross-legged in the grass.

“You listen,” he said simply. “To the Force. To silence. To the things others miss.”

“But I mess up.”

“So do I,” he said with a smile. “So did Qui-Gon. So does your friend Anakin.”

“Not like you. You never lose control.”

Obi-Wan’s smile faded just a little. “Then I must hide it well.”

Pause.

“If I ever do something wrong,” I whispered, “something the Order wouldn’t understand... will you still believe in me?”

He hadn’t answered right away.

But then—

“I won’t abandon you,” he’d said.

And I’d believed him.

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

“I came to understand,” I said aloud. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

Anakin shook his head. “You think he’s offering you freedom? He’s already made the choice for you.”

“You don’t see it,” Obi-Wan said. “They’ve caged you, Anakin. They made you fight and bleed and sacrifice everything—and you still defend them.”

“Because the alternative is you.”

Obi-Wan stepped forward. “No. The alternative is change. But you’re too afraid to imagine it.”

“I’m not afraid,” Anakin growled.

“Then prove it. Walk away. Come with us.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze didn’t waver.

“She belongs with us. With the Force—not the Council. We can end this war, not keep fighting it for men too old to see what they've done.”

Anakin’s voice broke. “You would take her.”

Obi-Wan turned to me. “I would follow you. If you asked. You know I would.”

And that—

That was the truest thing I’d ever heard from him.

Because he would.

Not to win. Not to conquer.

Because he believed in me.

The question was—did I?

The Force between them pulsed—heat and tension thick as gravity—and for a heartbeat, no one moved.

Obi-Wan was the first to speak. Calm. Steady. Dangerous in how much he believed.

"The Republic has failed. And the Jedi? They’re shadows of what they should’ve been. Enforcers for a broken Senate, chained to traditions they no longer understand."

Anakin’s jaw clenched, fingers tightening on his saber. "So you’ll replace them with what? Your version of peace? You and Dooku rewriting the galaxy on your own terms?"

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch. "I don’t follow Dooku. I follow the will of the Force. A new vision—without fear. Without blind loyalty. Without a Council that punishes those who love."

He looked at me.

"You don’t have to be caught between us. You could lead. The way you were always meant to. Not as a soldier. Not as a spy. But as a voice that carves a new path. With me."

My heart lurched. Because I knew, felt, that he meant it. He would follow me. He would burn the stars down to build whatever I imagined.

But then—

Anakin stepped forward.

He lowered his saber.

Not in surrender. In trust.

"Don’t choose me for the Republic," he said, voice quiet. Rough. "Don’t choose me for the Jedi. Choose me because you know this… this isn’t the way forward. Not with him."

I looked at him, and for the first time since the war began, I saw not the Chosen One, not the Commander, but just Anakin. Scared. Angry. Hopeful.

"You told me once you saw light in everyone," he said. "So look at me now. Look, and tell me you still see it. And if you don’t... I’ll walk away. But if you do—"

His voice cracked.

"Don’t leave."

My chest ached. The Force thundered.

I could see the future branching around us. One where Obi-Wan led me into a new world—where freedom wasn’t a crime. One where Anakin and I stood together, not because we were told to, but because we chose to fight for what was still good.

My saber stayed at my side.

"I see it," I whispered. "In both of you. But only one of you is asking me to stay."

Obi-Wan’s face didn’t break.

But I felt it—the ripple in the Force. A tremor of something… grief-stricken.

Anakin took a step forward. I didn’t stop him.

His hand brushed mine. Not a command. Not a pull. Just a touch—quiet, grounding. Obi-Wan didn’t move. He stood perfectly still, his saber lowered but not deactivated. Watching. Waiting.

“I won’t fight you,” he said, softly. “Not if you come now.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched. “That’s not peace, Obi-Wan. That’s a line in the sand.”

“No.” Obi-Wan’s voice stayed steady. “It’s a door. One only she can open.”

My heart thudded.

I wanted to scream—Why do you both keep putting this on me?

But I understood. Maybe too well.

I looked between them. Two men who had shaped the core of my life—one who raised me, one who saw me.

“I can’t be your fulcrum,” I said.

Obi-Wan blinked, almost startled.

“I’m not your wedge. Your weapon. Your symbol of what could’ve been. I won’t be what breaks the other.”

For a moment, no one breathed.

Then— A low rumble.

The station groaned.

An alert flashed behind us—one of the structural pylons had buckled during the skirmish. A final warning blared through the speakers: Evacuation required. Pressure breach imminent.

Anakin’s hand tightened around mine. “We need to go.”

Obi-Wan took a step forward—but this time, I stepped back.

Not in fear.

In choice.

“I won’t forget the melody,” I said quietly. “Or the stars. Or the threshold.”

Obi-Wan's expression cracked. Just a little.

But it was enough.

I turned.

We ran.

Behind us, I felt a ripple—like a heart breaking.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The blast doors groaned open as emergency klaxons wailed. Smoke curled from shattered supports above, casting orange light over the bay. R2-D2 spun around, beeping wildly, as the droid waited for us.

Anakin skidded to a stop by his starfighter—scorched but flight-worthy. Mine was parked just beside it, systems already running from the remote sequence I’d triggered during the confrontation.

R2 let out a shrill chirp.��We had minutes. Maybe less.

Anakin looked at me—really looked. Exhausted. Hollow-eyed. But still standing.

“Come with me,” he said, over the chaos. “Forget your ship. R2 can pilot it remotely—just fly with me.”

I hesitated—wanted to say yes. But…

I looked at my ship and I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “Not because I don’t trust you. But because I need… space to think. To feel.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped in understanding. He nodded once and R2 gave an exasperated whirl before hurrying to the cockpit. Anakin followed. Engines screamed to life.

I climbed into my own ship.

We launched side-by-side, the dying station falling behind us like a broken sun.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

Our starfighters touched down in the Temple hangar, emergency lights bathing the durasteel in crimson pulses. Temple guards stood at attention. Jedi Masters waited behind them.

They had felt it.

They knew something had changed.

Anakin climbed from his fighter with a wince—blood on his ribs, a hand pressed to his side. He didn’t complain. Didn’t explain.

But they turned to me.

And they asked questions.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The room was colder than I remembered.

Mace Windu’s tone was sharp, clipped. “Did General Kenobi attempt to recruit you?”

“She made her choice,” Anakin said hoarsely, still standing though he swayed. “She chose the Republic.”

“That’s not what we asked her,” Mace replied.

Yoda’s ears twitched. “Hmm. Much fear, I sense. In all.”

I stood still, silent as their voices climbed.

“She’s compromised.”

“She’s loyal,” Anakin snapped.

“She hesitated.”

“She survived.”

Yoda raised a hand, silencing the room.

“Speak, she may. If she wishes to.”

I met his gaze—and for a second, the quiet strength there nearly broke me.

But I couldn’t stay.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

I walked straight past the medbay. Straight past the barracks.

An escort of clones—my assigned detail now—trailed behind me like ghosts. I didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. I just packed.

A datapad beeped with a new security protocol: mandatory protection for all Jedi potentially targeted by former Generals.

I was a liability now.

But worse—

I had lost him.

Obi-Wan.

My mentor. My guardian. My almost-father.

Gone.

The transport rose slowly above the Temple’s spires.

I sat by the viewport, helmeted clone troopers flanking either side, their visors unreadable.

Below, Anakin stood on the landing pad, small and still and watching as I left.

And I didn’t know if I ever wanted to come back.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The air was too still. Almost suffocating. Long shadows stretched across the quiet halls of my childhood home. The kind of silence that didn’t soothe—it pressed on my ribs like armor I couldn’t take off.

Outside, the sky was turning violet. I hadn’t turned the lights on. I didn’t want to see the walls. The empty corners. The reflection of myself in the windows.

I sat on the floor, knees to my chest, back to the wall.

Not crying.

Just… not handling it.

I hadn’t removed my boots. My saber still hung at my side. Dust floated through the slanting light. I didn’t hear the door. Just… the shift in the Force. And then he was there.

Anakin stood in the archway, boots scuffed, tunic still dark with blood he hadn’t bothered to clean. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to come closer.

He just waited.

His presence filled the room slowly, not intrusively—like a tide.

I didn’t look at him, and he didn’t leave.

Minutes passed. I couldn’t count them.

And then—like something cracked—my hand clenched, and my breath hitched.

I broke.

I pressed my palms to my face, breath shuddering out of me. The tears came soundless at first. Then sharp.

"I love him," I choked out. "I loved him."

Anakin stepped forward—not fast. Just steady.

I didn’t stop him.

“I didn’t want this,” I gasped. “I was trying to find another way. I was looking for it—something, anything, to stop it before it went too far—”

My voice hitched again.

“He was meant to destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!”

The sob punched out of me like breath after drowning.

Anakin knelt in front of me.

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, firm and warm and real.

He pulled me in.

I clutched his tunic in my fists.

His voice was low, barely audible above the hum of the wind outside.

“He was my brother” He let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “I loved him…”

His hand moved through my hair—slow, steady.

And for the first time in days, I let myself feel the weight of it.

The grief.

The betrayal.

The impossibility of it all.

And Anakin held me like someone who knew exactly what it meant to love someone who had broken you.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The fire had burned low in the hearth.

Outside, the wind rustled through the olive trees—soft and tired, like even the night itself was grieving.

I was wrapped in a blanket now, curled on the long couch near the window. Anakin sat beside me, one arm resting behind my shoulders, his head tilted back against the cushions. The firelight flickered over the edges of his face, casting gold and shadow across the furrow in his brow.

We hadn't spoken in a while.

We didn’t need to.

He'd stayed. That was enough.

I glanced sideways at him—his eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was too uneven. Not out of fear. Just… thinking. And that was almost more dangerous with Anakin.

I shifted slightly.

He opened one eye. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Didn’t mean to fall on you.”

“You didn’t.” My voice was raw but steadier than before.

A silence. Then—

“Do you think he meant it?” I asked, voice barely a whisper. “When he said he’d follow me?”

Anakin didn’t answer right away. He stared at the fire. Then nodded, slow.

“Yeah,” he said. “He meant it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comforting.

“And would you?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “If it came to that—would you follow me?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t tease. Just turned to look at me.

“I already am.”

I looked away. My throat ached.

The blanket slipped off my shoulder slightly. He caught it and gently pulled it back up, fingers brushing my skin.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be anymore,” I said. “The Council doesn’t trust me. Obi-Wan’s gone. The war’s still burning. And you…”

My voice broke on that word.

“You never stopped seeing Padmé. Even when you were looking at me.”

A flicker passed through his expression—regret, maybe. Pain. Guilt.

“That’s not true,” he said quietly. “She was my past. But… you’re the only person who’s ever made me want a future.”

My breath caught.

He looked at me like the war wasn’t real. Like the galaxy outside didn’t exist.

“I see you,” he said. “I always have.”

For a moment, I believed him.

I leaned into his side, head resting on his shoulder. He let out a long breath and wrapped his arm around me fully, like he'd been waiting for that to be okay.

And for the first time in what felt like years, I closed my eyes and didn’t feel like I had to keep watch.

I didn’t sleep.

But I rested.

And maybe… that was enough.

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

The chamber was dim—lit only by the pulse of red energy strips embedded in obsidian walls.

The masked figure waited alone, cloak unmoving in the stale air. His mask—silver, sharp-jawed, featureless save for a narrow slit of dark glass—reflected the faint shimmer of the holocomm console before him.

Static flickered.

Then the hologram resolved into shape.

A figure in heavy robes. Cowl deep. Hands folded. Voice, honey-smooth and rotted at the edges.

“Lord Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch.

He stood taller than earlier. Worn thinner, yes. But the fire in his eyes had grown colder. Sharper.

“You kept your distance,” he said. “I wondered if you still believed in the plan.”

The hooded figure’s mouth curled beneath shadow.

“I believe in the Force. And in you, my friend.” A pause. “You’ve done well. The Jedi are fractured. The Council… afraid. And the girl?”

Obi-Wan’s jaw tensed.

“She’s not ready.”

“But you are.” The voice slithered closer. “You saw what the Jedi refused to see. You felt the rot in the Republic’s core. You chose to act.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Obi-Wan’s face—but only for a moment.

“There can be no true peace until the corruption is burned out. And to do that…”

The masked figure reached up.

And slowly—

Deliberately—

Removed his hood.

Pale skin. Deep folds. Yellowed eyes, gleaming like sulfur behind a politician’s smile.

“We must bring the galaxy to its knees.”

Obi-Wan stared at the man who had once been the Chancellor.

“You’re not what I expected.”

Palpatine—no longer hiding behind titles—stepped forward in the hologram, his voice no longer soft.

“Neither were you.”

The silence stretched. Then Obi-Wan spoke again, quieter now.

“If I find a better way… I will take it.”

“Of course,” Palpatine said. “That is why I chose you.”

The transmission ended.

And Obi-Wan stood there, alone in the dark, with only his reflection in the now-blank screen—and the memory of a girl who had once believed in him.

───── ❝.𖥔 ݁ ˖ back across the galaxy .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❞ ────

A chill pressed against my skin.

The kind not born of weather, but of memory. Of a voice I hadn’t heard in waking life—something just outside reach, like a rip in the Force trailing after me through the dark.

I sat up slowly, heart thudding. The room was still dim, only the faintest lavender light creeping through the tall windows. My fingers curled into the throw blanket pooled around me.

Anakin stirred beneath me.

His arm was still around my waist, the other slung protectively under my back. I hadn’t realized I’d shifted in sleep—head tucked to his chest, his heartbeat like a drum beneath my ear. Safe. Real.

He blinked, slow and soft from sleep, voice still husky.

"Hey." His eyes found mine instantly, brow creasing as he took in my expression. "What happened? What did you see?"

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t a vision. Not a prophecy or a dream I could name. Just... a feeling. Cold and buried deep in the Force like a shadow I’d known all my life but had only just now begun to fear.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “It wasn’t Obi-Wan.”

He sat up, eyes searching mine. “Was it a dream?”

I shook my head. “No. Not a dream. Just... something is coming.”

His gaze didn’t waver. Not once. Anakin’s hand lifted gently, fingers brushing the side of my face—tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear like I might vanish if he didn’t anchor me.

His touch was so careful. As if I were something fragile. Not a soldier. Not a Jedi.

Just… me.

"You're safe," he said, low. Certain.

The touch was grounding. Familiar.

And when I looked at him, really looked—into those eyes that had seen too much, burned too bright—I felt something crack open in my chest.

All the tension, all the grief and fire and battle lines that had cut through us like warpaths—it slipped, for one impossible second, away.

I leaned forward.

So did he.

No fanfare. No declarations.

Just one breath.

We’d kissed before—once in silence, once like breaking a rule, once like reaching for something we weren’t ready to name. Always pulled apart by duty, by war, by fear.

But this time…

This time, there was no one left to answer to.

No lies between us. No secrets left to keep.

So when I leaned into him and his lips met mine again—there was no hesitation. No question of right or wrong.

Just yes.

Just finally.

The kiss was deep, quiet, steady. Fierce and soft all at once. Like the moment had been waiting for us as long as we’d been waiting for it. The kind that doesn’t ask for anything except the truth of the moment. The kind that said: I see you. I’ve always seen you.

And I’m not running anymore. I kissed him back. Like I’d meant to do a hundred times. Like we had run out of excuses and finally realized there was no safer time. No right moment.

His hand slid up to cradle the back of my neck, pulling me closer like he couldn’t bear a fraction of distance.

His forehead rested against mine when we broke apart, our both of us breathing like we’d fought a war just to get here.

Maybe we had.

“I thought I lost you back there,” he whispered.

“You didn’t,” I said. “But we’re not done fighting.”

He nodded. “I know. But if I have to fight… I’d rather do it knowing what we are. What we mean.”

I looked at him then, really looked. At the man who was never just the Chosen One to me. Who was never just a soldier or a Jedi or a myth.

He was Anakin.

And I was done pretending he wasn’t everything I had left to believe in.

Our breathing calm now. No hunger. No urgency. Just… peace. Hard-won and fragile. So I lay back down, my hand resting over his heart. His arms tightened around me, one hand in my hair, his touch steady.

Outside, dawn finally broke.

But in here… we had a little more time. And for once, neither of us had to be alone when the galaxy turned.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

The vast chamber hummed with uneasy murmurs.

Council members gathered around the polished table, their faces grim. I stood at the edge, my heart pounding—both from exhaustion and the heavy weight of accusation.

Master Yoda’s gaze was steady, calm as always. He spoke first, his voice soft but firm. “Strong in the Force, Y/N is. Truth and loyalty, she holds. We must not let fear blind us.”

Mace Windu’s eyes narrowed. “She was with Obi-Wan when the sabotage occurred. We cannot ignore the possibility she is compromised.”

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to snap back. “I would never betray the Jedi. I’m here to protect what’s left of this Order.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi nodded slowly. “Her words ring true, but we must be cautious. The lines have blurred. Trust is not given lightly.”

Anakin stood beside me, his presence a silent shield. His voice was low but unwavering. “Y/N has fought alongside me through the worst. She chose the Republic—not any man.”

Yoda inclined his head. “Wisdom lies in patience, yes. Let her actions show her path.”

The room fell silent, the verdict unspoken but clear.

I felt it—a fracture inside me. I was defended, yet distrusted.

The weight of the Order’s doubt pressed down like a shadow, even with Master Yoda’s quiet defense.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

After the meeting, I retreated to my quarters. The solitude was both a refuge and a prison, feeling the gulf widening between me and the Jedi I once called family.

Outside, clone troopers moved like ghosts—mandatory protection now a constant reminder of the cost of my choices.

I sank onto the floor, the silence louder than ever. As I sat alone, my comlink suddenly whispered to life.

A transmission. Soft. Familiar.

The melody only Obi-Wan and I knew—played long ago in a moment stolen from war.

But this time, there was no peace in the tune.

Just a single, trembling message:

“I’m sorry.”

And behind it, the faintest echo of blaster fire.

───── ❝ ❞ ─────

TO BE CONTINUED ?? IN PART THREE:

Reckoning (3) | Anakin Skywalker

coming soon

Part One:

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Only One Target”

Captain Rex x Sith Assassin!Reader

Enemies to lovers. Slow burn. Tension, action, and banter-heavy.

⸻

Red lights flashed down the corridors as you rand through the Resolute. Alarms howled like wounded animals. Klaxons screamed warnings that had come too late.

You moved like a shadow, your twin blades igniting in a blur of crimson, slicing through the bulkhead doors as if the metal were paper. The heat of your lightsabers glowed against the durasteel corridor walls, the hum a deadly harmony beside the shriek of chaos.

Asajj Ventress moved beside you with elegant brutality, deflecting blaster fire, her snarling grin twisted with pleasure.

“The bridge is ahead,” she hissed.

“I know.” You moved low, quick. Efficient. No wasted energy.

Unlike Ventress, you weren’t here for blood. You were here for one thing.

Skywalker.

Your boots echoed against the floor as the pair of you tore through the security wing. Clone troopers scrambled to set up a defensive line, but Ventress was already leaping through the air, spinning and slashing with savage glee. You ducked left, deflecting two stun blasts aimed at your side and pressing through the chaos.

Your comm crackled with Dooku’s voice: “Your objective is Skywalker. Eliminate him if possible. Delay him if not.”

Simple. Clean.

But Jedi never made things easy.

A roar of deflected fire and steel clashed ahead—the bridge was sealed tight, but Skywalker was already on the move. You could feel it. That sickening shine in the Force. Hot-headed. Reckless.

Perfect.

Ventress cackled as she carved her way through a unit of troopers. “Skywalker’s mine, little assassin.”

You didn’t bother replying. She was always talking. Always posturing.

But Skywalker—he came for you.

He landed in front of you like a meteor, lightsaber igniting in that garish Jedi blue. His padawan flanked him, smaller but no less lethal.

“Stop right there!” Ahsoka barked.

“You should run, youngling,” you said calmly, blades still humming in your grip. “You’re not my target.”

“Good,” Anakin growled. “Because I’m yours.”

Your blades clashed.

He was every bit as unhinged and unpredictable as the reports had claimed. Each swing was raw power. Unfocused. A battering ram of fury and precision. But you weren’t trained for brute force—you danced. You flowed. And you matched him blow for blow.

Behind you, Ventress laughed, engaging Ahsoka. “Don’t get killed, darling!” she called to you.

You didn’t have time to respond. Skywalker was pressing harder now, rage simmering just beneath his skin.

“Who sent you?” he snarled.

“Ask your Council,” you hissed, pushing his blade aside with a sharp twist and driving a kick into his side. “Maybe they already knew.”

His anger was your shield, your rhythm. You circled him like a predator, redirecting each strike. But he was wearing you down. Sweat beaded on your brow. Your ribs ached from a graze. The hum of the ship told you more clones were closing in.

This wasn’t going to plan.

Suddenly, Ventress snarled. “We’re pulling out!”

“What?” you snapped, narrowly dodging a swing that would’ve taken your shoulder.

“The ship is crawling with clones! We’re surrounded!”

You turned—but it was already too late.

A stun blast hit your back like a hammer, and you crumpled to the floor with a gasp. Your vision sparked, flickering red and white.

Through the haze, you saw Ventress leap into the air, somersaulting toward an escape hatch. “Try not to die, sweetling!” she called before vanishing into the smoke.

Coward.

You tried to rise—only to find yourself staring down the barrel of several blaster rifles. White and blue armor surrounded you.

And in front of them stood a clone captain.

Helmet off. Jaw clenched. Eyes sharp.

He didn’t look at you like a person.

He looked at you like the monster under the bed had crawled into the daylight.

You smirked through the pain.

“Captain,” you rasped, voice dry and tinged with blood. “Nice to finally meet face-to-face.”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t shoot you either.

⸻

The cell was cold. Not the biting kind of cold, but that artificial kind—clinical, heartless, and designed to make you uncomfortable without leaving bruises.

You sat calmly, arms cuffed to the table in front of you, ankles bound beneath. Bruised. Bleeding. But your chin was high and your mouth curved in something far too close to a smirk.

Across from you stood Anakin Skywalker, pacing like a caged animal.

“Why were you here?” he demanded. Again.

You gave a long, slow blink. “Nice to see you’re up and walking. That kick to the ribs must’ve hurt.”

He stopped pacing, turned on you.

“Who sent you?”

“You already know the answer to that,” you replied sweetly. “But you’re not interested in truth, are you? Only revenge.”

He bristled. You leaned forward, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You’re predictable, Skywalker. So much fire, so little control. I don’t even need the Force to see through you.”

He slammed his hand down on the table. You didn’t flinch.

“I will get answers out of you.”

You tilted your head, voice dropping like silk.

“Is that a threat? Or a promise?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t play games with Sith.”

“Oh, but I do love when Jedi pretend they don’t have teeth. You came at me like a storm, Skywalker. That was personal. So… who did you lose?”

He stared at you for a long, tense beat.

Then he turned sharply and stormed toward the door.

“Rex!” he barked, voice echoing. The clone captain was already waiting outside.

Anakin didn’t look back. “She’s done talking. Make sure she doesn’t try anything.”

The door hissed shut behind him, leaving you in quiet, satisfied amusement.

⸻

Captain Rex entered the room like a soldier born from the word discipline itself. Helmet off. Blaster at his side.

You watched him with interest. The curve of his jaw. The quiet rage simmering beneath the armor. Fascinating.

“Still scowling,” you murmured, leaning forward. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you missed me.”

Rex didn’t move.

“I don’t have time for your games.”

“No?” You arched a brow, voice smooth. “I thought I might be growing on you.”

“You’re lucky to still be breathing.”

You chuckled lowly, the sound almost intimate. “So I’ve been told. And yet… here I am. Alive. Tied down. At your mercy.”

Rex narrowed his eyes, but you saw it—the flicker. Just a twitch. Something unreadable passing through him.

“I’m not interested in whatever this is,” he said.

“Are you sure?” Your voice dropped to a velvet hush. “Because you keep coming back.”

Rex stepped forward, setting your stun-cuffed hands more firmly on the table.

“I’m only here because the General told me to keep you contained.”

You leaned in as far as the cuffs would allow. Close enough for him to feel the whisper of your breath against his cheek.

“And here I thought you were starting to enjoy our chats.”

He looked down at you—fierce, unreadable.

Then his voice dropped, cold and quiet.

“I’ve lost too many good men to people like you.”

Your smirk softened. Just a bit.

“I told you already,” you said, quieter now. “I didn’t kill your brothers. Not one.”

“Convenient.”

“True.”

The silence stretched between you like a taut wire. Dangerous. Tense.

“I’m not who you think I am, Captain,” you said finally. “But I won’t pretend I’m innocent.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned, walking toward the door.

You watched him, something unreadable flickering in your gaze.

“You can lock the cell, Rex,” you called after him. “But you’ll be back.”

He paused in the doorway, head tilted.

“Mark my words, Captain… you’ll come back. Even if you don’t know why.”

The door hissed closed behind him.

But you knew.

You always knew.

⸻

Captain Rex hadn’t come back.

Not once.

And it was driving you crazy.

Not because you missed him—no, that would be ridiculous. But there was something about the way he looked at you. That loathing. That fire. That control. You’d tasted the edge of his patience, danced along the blade of his restraint. You wanted to see what would happen if it snapped.

But instead, all you got were cold meals, cold walls, and clones who wouldn’t meet your eye.

Something had changed.

The cruiser was quieter than usual. Too quiet.

You sat in your cell, half-meditating, half-stalking the Force for answers—when the lights flickered. Once. Twice.

Then the alarms started.

Again.

You stood.

Outside your cell, down the corridor, came the distinct snarl of sabers cutting metal.

Then the scream of a clone dying.

You felt it before you saw her—Asajj Ventress.

So dramatic.

She moved like smoke—feral and graceful and cruel. Cutting down everything in her path.

“(Y/N), darling,” she sang, dragging her saber across the bulkhead. “Dooku thinks you’ve said too much.”

You arched a brow. “I’ve been locked up for two days.”

She grinned wickedly through the security glass. “He’s not much for trust.”

You stepped back as the wall next to your cell exploded inwards, shrapnel slicing through the air. A second later, the blast door behind Ventress burst open—and Rex charged through with a small squad, blasters raised.

“Don’t let her escape!” he barked. “Ventress is here—get the prisoner secured!”

Ventress hissed. “So much fuss.”

She threw out her hand, sending two clones flying down the hallway. Blaster fire lit up the corridor. You ducked as sparks rained from the ceiling.

Chaos.

And in chaos… came opportunity.

Your bindings were fried in the blast. Ventress might’ve been here to kill you—but she’d cracked open the door for your escape.

And you intended to walk through it.

You sprinted through the smoke just as Rex spotted you.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Stop—!”

But you were already lunging at him.

The fight was brutal.

He was stronger than you remembered. Faster. Smart. He fought with precision, training, and raw determination.

But you were sharper.

He aimed a blow to your ribs—you twisted, elbowed his jaw, then landed a swift kick that knocked him to the floor. He groaned, dazed.

You stood over him, panting, blood dripping from a cut above your brow. He looked up at you, chest heaving.

Disgust and fury warred in his eyes.

You knelt down beside him, fingers brushing the edge of his pauldron, and whispered:

“You really are hard to resist, Captain.”

Before he could speak, you leaned in—lips brushing his cheek in a slow, mocking kiss.

He flinched like you’d slapped him.

You smirked, breath warm at his ear.

“Tell Skywalker I’ll be seeing him soon.”

And with that, you were gone—vanishing into the smoke and fire.

Rex slammed his fist into the floor, jaw tight.

“Damn it.”

⸻

The shuttle descended through the clouds like a dagger slicing through silk.

You stood in the shadows of the ship’s hold, arms crossed, silent as Ventress piloted the last stretch home. Her usual smugness was absent. She hadn’t spoken since the escape. A rare show of restraint—for her.

You’d barely had time to process it all. The cell. The explosion. The fight with Rex.

The kiss.

You could still feel the heat of his skin under your lips. Could still see the fury in his eyes when you left him there, bruised and stunned.

Why you’d done it, you weren’t sure.

Maybe it was to mock him.

Or maybe it was something else.

You pushed the thought away.

The ship landed with a soft thrum. Dooku was already waiting.

He sat on his elevated seat, shrouded in darkness, back straight, fingers steepled. Regal. Cold.

The air buzzed with tension as you stepped before him, Ventress half a pace behind.

He stared at you for a long moment, then finally spoke.

“So,” he said, voice deep, smooth, laced with disapproval. “You return.”

“Alive,” you replied, offering a slight bow.

“For now.”

Ventress stepped forward. “Skywalker and his men nearly had her. I had to extract her myself.”

You snorted. “You also tried to gut me in the process.”

Dooku’s gaze slid to you, unmoved. “Your mission was simple: eliminate Skywalker.”

“I almost had him,” you said. “He’s just… more unhinged than I remembered.”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “And yet you engaged no clones. Left them alive. Odd, for an assassin.”

You met his stare. “They weren’t the target.”

“They were in your way.”

You were quiet.

Dooku stood, descending the steps like a judge preparing a sentence.

“You toyed with them.”

The words sliced like ice.

“You played a game you were not ordered to play. Especially with that clone—Captain Rex.”

You tensed.

Ventress glanced at you from the corner of her eye, smiling faintly.

Dooku continued. “Your emotions are tainted. Distracted. You lingered in the Force, and I felt the fracture.”

Your voice was soft but steady. “I completed the mission.”

“You failed the objective.”

His voice rose like thunder.

“You kissed the enemy.”

You blinked once. Slowly.

“I did,” you said.

Ventress gave a small, wicked chuckle. Dooku, however, was not amused.

He stepped closer.

“If you’ve grown soft… if you’ve begun to let sentiment guide you…”

“I haven’t.”

He leaned in, towering.

“You walk a knife’s edge, assassin. The dark side does not abide confusion.”

You tilted your head, voice low. “And yet it thrives on conflict.”

He studied you in silence. Measured. Calculating.

“Then make no mistake,” he said at last. “If you wish to remain useful… stop playing with your food.”

He turned, walking back to the shadows of his seat.

“Next time, you kill him.”

You didn’t answer.

Because you weren’t sure you could.

⸻

The holomap flickered blue, glowing across the surface of the table. Separatist movements. Naval placements. An entire campaign laid bare in lines and symbols.

Rex wasn’t looking at any of it.

He stood at attention, eyes fixed forward, jaw clenched.

But his thoughts were elsewhere.

Back in that hallway.

Back in the smoke.

Back to her lips brushing his cheek like a brand.

It made no sense. She was an assassin. A killer. She should’ve slit his throat when she had the chance.

Instead, she kissed him.

And now she was out there.

Alive.

And he hated that he kept thinking about her.

Across the room, Skywalker watched him with his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“…You’ve barely spoken since the attack,” Anakin said at last, breaking the silence.

Rex blinked out of his haze. “Sir?”

“I said,” Anakin repeated, stepping forward, “you’ve been quiet.”

Rex shifted. “Just processing.”

“Hm.”

Skywalker studied him with that Jedi look—the one that peeled you apart without touching you.

“She messed with your head,” he said casually.

Rex stiffened. “No, sir.”

“She kissed you, didn’t she?”

That made him flinch. Just slightly. Just enough.

Anakin grinned, triumphant.

“Rex… my most dependable, rule-bound, chain-of-command clone… got kissed by a Sith.”

Rex scowled. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Anakin leaned on the table. “You’ve been off since it happened. You volunteered to lead the recon mission to track her. You haven’t even joked with Fives.”

“That’s not evidence of anything.”

“You’re obsessed,” Anakin said bluntly. “And obsession leads to mistakes.”

Rex stepped forward. “I won’t make a mistake.”

Skywalker’s brow furrowed.

“Then tell me the truth. What happened in that hallway? Before she escaped.”

A pause. Tense. Thick.

Rex looked away.

“I hesitated.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“…I don’t know.”

It was the only honest thing he could say.

Skywalker exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I get it,” he muttered. “You see something in her that doesn’t make sense. It throws you off. Makes you wonder if the whole enemy line is as black-and-white as they drilled into us.”

He looked at Rex again, this time with less judgment. More understanding.

“I’ve been there,” he added quietly. “Trust me.”

Rex met his gaze. “What do I do?”

Anakin stepped forward, voice low and deadly serious.

“You find her.”

A beat.

“And next time… you don’t let her walk away.”

Rex nodded once.

But he wasn’t sure which part of that command he’d actually follow.

⸻

“Sir, you’re gonna wanna hear this,” Fives said, stepping into the room with Jesse right behind him, both looking far too smug for just a routine debrief.

Rex didn’t even glance up from where he was cleaning his blaster. “If it’s another story about how you two flirted your way through an outpost again, I’m not interested.”

Fives smirked. “This time it wasn’t me doing the flirting.”

Jesse elbowed him, grin wide. “She’s alive, Rex. The Sith.”

That got his attention.

Rex set the blaster down slowly. “Where?”

“Outer rim—some cragged little rock of a world,” Fives said, tossing a datapad onto the bunk. “Scouts clocked her landing in a stolen Separatist fighter. Alone. No guards. No backup. Like she’s hiding.”

“She is hiding,” Jesse added, more serious now. “She’s off comms. No Dooku, no Ventress, no Separatist chatter. It’s like she vanished off the map and doesn’t want anyone to find her.”

Rex stared at the datapad. Her face flickered on the holo.

Still dangerous. Still wanted. Still—

He clenched his jaw.

“She’s bait.”

“You think it’s a trap?” Fives asked.

“She got away once,” Rex said. “She could be luring us in again.”

But he wasn’t sure he believed that.

Because something about the reports didn’t match the woman he’d fought. The woman who’d kissed him like a dare and disappeared in smoke.

She wouldn’t hide.

Not unless she was hiding from them too.

⸻

You stood at the edge of the jagged cliff, cloak wrapped tight around your shoulders as the wind howled against the rocks below. Blaster in hand. Saber hidden. Breath shallow.

Every shadow was a threat.

Every sound could be them.

You hadn’t slept in days.

Dooku’s disappointment had been quiet—crushing in its indifference. He hadn’t hunted you.

He hadn’t even tried.

You were nothing to him now.

Ventress had left you for dead. The Separatist cause—what little you’d clung to of it—was gone.

And yet, part of you was relieved.

No more commands. No more darkness threading your every breath.

But freedom came with silence. And silence, with ghosts.

You kept expecting to feel him—Dooku’s presence, that icy command in the back of your skull.

Instead, all you felt was that clone captain’s eyes on you, burned into your memory.

Rex.

You hated how often your thoughts returned to him.

To his defiance.

His strength.

His disgust.

That heat in his stare when you kissed him.

You’d told yourself it was just a game.

So why did it still make your chest ache?

You swallowed hard.

And then you felt it.

A presence in the Force. Close. Familiar.

And getting closer.

“They found me.”

⸻

Rex stared out the viewport, helmet clutched in his hands.

“Think she’ll fight?” Jesse asked behind him.

Fives leaned back with a grin. “She’ll flirt first.”

Rex ignored them.

“She’s changed,” he said, more to himself than to them.

Jesse raised a brow. “You sure about that?”

“No.”

But something told him this wasn’t the same assassin who once whispered threats like poetry and left him bleeding on the deck.

This woman was running.

And maybe—just maybe—she was running from herself.

⸻

The air was thin. Cold. The kind that bit into your lungs and forced you to breathe slow or not at all.

Rex moved like a shadow, rifle low, boots silent on the cracked stone. The trail was faint—half-buried footprints, a heat signature already fading. Whoever she was now… she was trying not to be found.

She should’ve known better.

She was good.

But he was better.

A flash of movement to his right.

He turned, fast—blaster raised, ready to fire.

And there she was.

Perched on the edge of the cliff like some half-feral creature, cloak torn, hair wild in the wind. Her saber was clipped at her hip, untouched. Not lit. Not raised.

She didn’t flinch when he pointed the blaster at her.

In fact—she looked tired.

“…Rex,” you said, voice rough, wind-swept.

The way his name sounded from your mouth—it sent something low and confused curling in his gut.

“Drop the weapon,” he barked.

You raised your hands. Slowly.

“I’m unarmed.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You tilted your head, voice softer. “If I wanted to kill you, Captain, you’d already be bleeding.”

“And if I wanted to take you in,” he countered, stepping forward, “you’d already be cuffed.”

You smiled—sharp. Tired. “Then why aren’t I?”

Rex didn’t answer.

He studied you.

No backup. No escape route. No fight.

This wasn’t an ambush.

This wasn’t a trap.

This was… surrender.

“Where’s your army?” he asked.

“Gone.”

“Dooku?”

You scoffed. “Didn’t even notice I left.”

“And Ventress?”

A beat. Your jaw tightened. “She tried to kill me.”

That, at least, made sense.

Rex lowered the blaster just an inch.

“I’m not with them anymore,” you said, voice low.

“Why should I believe you?”

You looked at him.

Not smiling. Not teasing.

Just looking.

“I don’t care if you do.”

Another beat of silence.

And then, you stepped forward—only once, hands still raised.

“Just don’t call it in,” you said. “Not yet.”

He stared at you.

One word. One plea.

“Please.”

It wasn’t seductive.

It wasn’t tactical.

It was real.

And Rex felt something twist in his chest—guilt or rage or something else entirely.

The wind howled between you.

And he… didn’t pull the trigger.

Rex’s hand hovered over his comm. He could feel her eyes on him—watching, weighing. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

The truth sat thick between them.

“501st recon team,” he said into the transmitter. “Target trail went cold. Tracks disappear into the ridge. Visibility’s dropping—might have to call it for the night.”

There was a pause.

Then static cracked and—

“You lost her?” Fives’ voice came through, incredulous.

“Lost or let go?” Jesse muttered, too close to the mic.

Rex closed his eyes briefly. “Negative. She’s not here. We’ll regroup in the morning.”

Before they could push back, he shut off the comm and tucked it into his belt.

When he turned, she was already walking toward the small cave behind the outcrop, half-collapsed from age, half-hidden by a rockfall.

“Storm’s rolling in,” you said. “If you’re going to arrest me, you’d better do it inside.”

Rex followed without a word.

⸻

The wind screamed outside, carrying dust and rain in harsh gusts. But inside, the air was still—tense. Dry. The flickering firelight cast your shadows long against the stone.

You sat cross-legged near the flames, cloak shed, arms bare beneath the loose black tunic. Scars crossed your skin like old lightning—some faded, others fresh. A lifetime of battles carved in silence.

Rex sat across from you, blaster close, helmet beside him. Watching.

Always watching.

“You don’t trust me,” you said quietly.

“No.”

“Good.”

You smirked, dragging a finger along the edge of the cup you were warming with tea.

“But you didn’t call me in.”

“I should have.”

“But you didn’t.”

You looked up. Eyes meeting his.

And for the first time, neither of you looked away.

“I’m not your enemy anymore, Rex.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“No. But I can stop pretending I’m something I’m not.”

You exhaled, slowly.

“I left Dooku. I left the war. Not because I grew a conscience—but because I realized I was disposable. Replaceable. Just another weapon to him. Just another broken thing.”

Rex’s fingers twitched at that. He knew what that felt like.

You leaned back, gaze drifting to the fire. “I always thought loyalty was earned by killing for someone. But it turns out, it’s just something you can lose when you stop being useful.”

The cave was silent, save for the crackle of flames.

Then—

“You were never useful to me,” Rex said flatly.

You huffed a dry laugh. “No. I was a headache.”

“A dangerous one.”

“And yet… you didn’t shoot.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Why?”

Rex looked at you then. Really looked.

You weren’t the same woman who’d cut down Jedi guards in the halls of the Resolute. You were raw now. Scuffed. Not harmless—but maybe human.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“That’s honest,” you said softly. “I thought clones weren’t allowed to be.”

He flinched at that.

“I didn’t kill your brothers,” you added, more serious now. “I swore I never would.”

Rex didn’t respond right away.

Then, finally—

“I believe you.”

The words hung in the air like a confession.

You looked at him again, eyes darker now. “You gonna let me go in the morning?”

He hesitated.

“…I don’t know yet.”

Another pause.

Then you leaned forward, across the firelight, voice low.

“I still think about you, you know. About that kiss.”

His jaw tightened. “You only did that to get under my skin.”

You smiled. “Did it work?”

He didn’t answer.

You were closer now. Too close.

And maybe it was the firelight. Or the silence. Or the ache of too many choices unmade.

But Rex didn’t move when you reached out.

Your fingers grazed the edge of his jaw, feather-light. “You ever wonder if this would’ve been different… if we weren’t on opposite sides?”

He met your gaze.

“I don’t have time to wonder.”

“Maybe you should start.”

You leaned in—close enough to steal his breath.

Then, at the last second, you pulled back.

“Get some rest, Captain,” you said, curling into your cloak near the fire.

Rex sat stiff as stone, heart pounding like war drums in his chest.

And outside, the storm raged.

⸻

Fives squinted up at the ridge through his electrobinoculars.

“No way he lost the trail,” he muttered.

Jesse nodded. “You felt it too, right? The way he said it? That pause.”

Fives smirked. “He found her.”

“And didn’t bring her in.”

They shared a look.

“Think we’re gonna see her again?” Jesse asked.

Fives clicked his tongue.

“I think he hopes not.”

⸻

The storm had passed.

The wind was still sharp, but the sky was clearing—streaks of pale blue bleeding into the clouds like a fresh wound, wide and open. Sunlight spilled over the stone like a promise. Cold, but clean.

You stood near the edge of the ridge, cloak fluttering behind you, face turned toward the sunrise.

Rex approached, slow. Steady. Blaster holstered. Helmet tucked under one arm.

You didn’t look back at first. Just spoke, voice low.

“They’ll know soon enough.”

“I know.”

“They’ll think you let me go.”

“I did.”

Finally, you turned to him.

Eyes locked. That unspoken thing still between you—never named. Never safe enough to be.

“But you’ll lie for me?” you asked, more curious than hopeful.

“No,” he said, firm. “But I’ll say I hesitated.”

You smiled, just a little. “That’s fair.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you stepped forward. Closer.

“This is the part where I disappear again.”

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t step forward.

Didn’t say stay.

Because he couldn’t.

You leaned in, eyes searching his.

“I meant what I said, Captain,” you murmured. “About thinking of you.”

And before he could say a word, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek—right over the scar that ran along his jaw. It lingered longer than the first. Not teasing this time. Not taunting.

Just real.

Warm.

A goodbye.

Rex didn’t move. Couldn’t.

And then you were gone.

Cloak over your shoulders, vanishing into the canyon beyond. No sound. No trace.

Like you’d never been there at all.

Except he’d never forget.

⸻

Jesse looked up first. “Incoming.”

Fives leaned on a crate, chewing rations. “He better not say she vanished.”

Rex stepped through the brush, helmet under his arm, face unreadable.

“You lose the trail again?” Jesse asked dryly.

“She was never there,” Rex said.

Fives snorted. “Yeah, sure. The wind just happened to blow out tracks in one direction.”

“I didn’t find her,” Rex said again, firmer. “She’s gone.”

They watched him.

Said nothing.

Jesse raised an eyebrow, but Fives elbowed him, letting it go.

And as Rex walked past them, calm and steady and very clearly not okay—Fives caught a glimpse of something under his ear.

A smear.

No, not a smear.

Lipstick.

Fives blinked.

Then grinned like a menace.

But before he could say a word, Rex tossed his helmet back on.

And muttered without looking back—

“Don’t.”

[saphronethaleph]

Schedule Slip

“They are late,” Count Dooku said.

“I know,” Palpatine replied, perhaps a touch snippily.

“You said this plan was perfect,” Dooku added, a touch impertinently.

“You must have got the timing wrong,” Palpatine countered.

Dooku shook his head, and Palpatine scowled.

“I followed the plan exactly as described,” the aristocratic Sith informed his Master, with grace and care. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to exploit the patrol window, would I?”

He shrugged. “Besides, it’s not as if the plan requires that the Jedi turn up at an exact moment. It’s just annoying to wait this long.”

Even that carefully measured courtsey was a barb in its own right, and Palpatine tried not to react.

At least, not too strongly.

“Are you going to be able to tell when they arrive?” he asked. “Because if you can tell when they arrive, I would quite appreciate getting out of the wrist clamps. I can get back in them with a bit of warning.”

“I would have thought you would know that,” Dooku chuckled. “But – yes. No matter how they get aboard, I will be alerted.”

The Invisible Hand trembled slightly, as part of the onging space battle impinged on it, and Palpatine unsnapped his wrist clamps before rubbing his temples.

“It’s not as enjoyable as it should be,” he complained. “I know both of these fleets are dancing to my tune, but it’s not as enjoyable as it should be. Skywalker should be here by now.”

“My master would say you should have patience,” Dooku said.

“I know what that old gremlin would say,” Palpatine muttered. “He doesn’t know what patience is. We’ve been waiting far too long for this.”

Dooku glanced at him. “We?”

“The Sith,” Palpatine said, rolling his eyes. “Of course. It’s been a thousand years.”

“You have had the good luck of being the Master during the time that the plan is coming to fruition,” Dooku said. “We can rule the galaxy together.”

“Of course,” Palpatine agreed, well aware that Dooku was planning to kill him and replace him.

Probably with Skywalker, unless it was Kenobi he thought he could turn. Or maybe that apprentice that he thought Palpatine didn’t know about.

Of course, Palpatine was planning to kill Dooku and replace him with Skywalker, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be annoyed.

Then the ship trembled, much more violently, and Dooku clutched at the nearest railing for support before springing up and looking out the window.

There was a Republic cruiser firing a heavy broadside into the Invisible Hand, blaster bolts shaking the whole ship as the shields overloaded and shorted out, and alarms began to wail even in the Wizard’s Tower.

“I assume that isn’t a good thing,” Palpatine muttered.

“Of course it’s not,” Dooku replied, shortly. “While you have been doing politics and rubbing your hands together, I have been running a fleet and doing politics.”

He checked a datapad, then slipped it back into his robes. “We should hurry. There aren’t any escape pods on this level.”

“Why not?” Palpatine asked, fists clenched.

He really wished he had a lightsaber with him, but it wouldn’t have fit his cover.

“Because why would I need escape pods in a propoganda tower?” Dooku replied, striding for the door. “Unless you want to stay behind?”

Palpatine had been following, and the barb just gave him another spike of anger.

Maybe he could contrive some way to leave Dooku on the ship?

...no, tempting as it was. They could still go with the plan Dooku had been told was the plan, with Dooku’s capture and then undermining the Jedi from the inside.

By the time the two Sith had reached the main body of the ship, neither’s mood had improved.

“What about this one?” Palpatine demanded.

“Jettisoned,” Dooku replied. “The red telltale.”

They went past another escape pod airlock, and that one was jettisoned as well.

“So where are the escape pods that haven’t been used?” Palpatine demanded.

“That’s why we’re heading for the bridge,” Dooku countered, clenching his fist, and the door slammed open. “You realize we’ll have to wipe the computers to get rid of our conversations?”

“I am well aware,” Palpatine replied. “Unless-”

He got a look at the view outside the window, and tried not to let his voice stutter, because what he could see in front of him was a planet.

“-we can contrive to destroy the ship entirely,” he said, without a tremor in his voice – something he was quite proud of.

Dooku hurried to the command console, typing on it, then slammed his fist into the side of the computer.

“What?” Palpatine demanded.

“All escape pods have been jettisoned,” Dooku replied. “By order of General Grievous.”

“What?” Palpatine repeated, for the second time in less than ten seconds. “Why?”

“Well,” Dooku began. “If I were to hazard a guess, it would be because he doesn’t like us very much.”

“But he should-” Palpatine bit the words off. “He should know not to endanger us, we are his political leaders!”

“Hmm,” Dooku frowned, already hunting through the conmand console menus to find some way to try to slow the ship down.

A lot of the display was the stern red of not working, mate, and Palpatine’s hands clenched into claws.

“I suppose if you told him you were Sidious, then he must be making a bid for leadership,” Dooku added, in that sort of way that suggested he was focusing on the things he could understand.

“If I told him?” Palpatine said. “It was your job to tell him. I don’t make calls to Grievous very often, and when I do I’m hardly going to say that I’m Palpatine, am I? You’re the one who’s alone in rooms with him.”

“I rather thought it was your business,” Dooku replied, loftily. “Your calls were already secured. I was in installations that could be monitored easily.”

He stroked his chin with one hand, while the other found the engine controls and shifted them to stop – which meant that at least they were no longer driving towards Coruscant.

It might even buy them another couple of seconds.

“I believe I understand, now,” Dooku said. “Grievous has always hated me for that shuttle crash that I set up. I suspect he has decided to get back at me in a way that can’t be blamed on anyone – the ship is shot down in flames. It cannot be blamed on him.”

Palpatine’s eye twitched.

“This wouldn’t be happening if-” he said, then bit it back.

The ground was now visible through the clouds, and it was getting closer quite quickly.

“Can you stop this with the Force?” Dooku asked.

Palpatine looked at Dooku with venom in his eyes.

“I’m not Skywalker,” he said.

The altitude was rapidly decreasing, and it looked as though the Asogian Extraterrestrial Endowment Fund Landing Strip was shortly going to become the Sheev Palpatine Memorial Crater.

“You know, Dooku?” he said. “I’ve always hated you, and I was going to have Skywalker chop your head off.”

Dooku had just enough time to look at him with a somewhat hurt expression before the planet arrived.

Mace Windu winced.

“Ouch,” he said, leaning against the wall, as a clone strike team went tromping past to repel boarders.

“One of your war injuries?” Agen Kolar asked, sympathetically,

“No,” Windu replied. “I just… I think a shatterpoint just took itself out.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Anakin murmured, a few hours later, as he and Obi-Wan went through the Chancellor’s office and packed up Palpatine’s effects.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I didn’t much agree with the man on some things, but… I have to admit, it’s a shame he died.”

“I feel responsible,” Anakin added, his voice bitter. “I feel like… we should have been there sooner. We could have done something. I could have landed that ship.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Perhaps. I know I feel like that every day when I think about Qui-Gon.”

Anakin frowned, then nodded.

“How do you deal with it?” he asked.

“The best I can,” Obi-Wan answered.

Anakin nodded again, then opened Palpatine’s drawer.

“...uh,” he said. “Obi-Wan? There’s a lightsaber in here.”

He picked it up, and Obi-Wan looked it over.

“I don’t recognize the design,” he admitted. “But there’s a lot of Jedi. Where did that one come from, then?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin replied, then turned it on, and the sight of the red blade startled him so badly he dropped it.

“...well,” Obi-Wan said, as they both stared at the shining red blade – which was only half hidden by the corner of the desk it had sliced off. “That’s… odd.”

He shrugged. “At least it didn’t cut through the floor?”

[motherofdogs1010]

Jedi in Arrakis VIII (Paul Atredies x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: plot twist!, sith teachings and ideology, questioning of Jedi Force teachings, greyJedi!reader, Feyd-Rautha is his own warning, soft angst

A/N: Y/N's Fremen name is Noor meaning light

Italics - Chakbosa

Banner by @vase-of-lilies Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

"Come find me..."

He frowned as he looked around, his pale skin feeling the heat of the Arrakis and his face furrowed in annoyance.

A light, airy giggle teased him as he looked around.

"Don't you want to find me?"

Find who?

Feyd-Rautha was unsure as to who the voice belonged to as he turned, the sand seeping heavy into his bare feet as he found her.

Standing on a dune as her loose hair swirled around her from an Arrakian breeze, a scarf covering her lower face and all his saw were her bright, Spice-riddled eyes as she stretched a hand out.

"Come find me, beloved..."

And as always since the fall of House Atreides, Feyd-Rautha awoke with a anger that never seemed to be quenched, a cold sweat over his pale body and hunger to find the woman in his dreams.

Master Yoda had always been her favorite to train with because of his small stature and quick thinking when it came to battle. He was unpredictable with his training, wise with his words even if they could be hard to understand at first and so one with the Force that she envied the elderly Jedi.

Which was why she quickly adapted to the ways of the Fremen, their way was a hard one with the unforgiving nature of Arrakis (or Dune as they called it) and the language was a bit difficult to understand at first, but now it felt as if she was speaking the Common Language with them.

Paul found it easy too living amongst the Fremen, as if he had always been one of them and now, as they hid under the mountains of sand in their stilsuits awaiting the Spice Harvester, she felt as if maybe the Force led her here to help free Arrakis for the Fremen.

Leaping out from the sand as coordinated as it had been discussed, Y/N followed the plan of taking down the harvester.

The Harkonnen soldiers were dressed in heavy armor, black and bulky but her lightsaber made cutting through the enemy quick. The dual blades of light feeling light in her hands and with the help that Chani had given her, she felt her movements more precise and fluid than before.

Anakin would be proud of her.

"You okay?" Paul called out to her, Y/N nodded at him.

"Yes", she said just as bullets begun to rain down upon them.

Ducking underneath the moving harvester, she saw Harkonnen soldiers flying in a craft and shooting down at them. She realized they didn't care if they hit their own comrades or not as the other Fremen ran for cover as well.

"Crawl under the harvester!" Chani commanded to them. "It will cover us as we move to the other side!"

Having to crawl under the moving machinery was nerve-wrecking as they followed instruction.

But their next plan of attack was already set in motion as Chani carried the large gun used to take down the aircraft (helicopter was a new word Paul taught her) while she guarded over Chani with Paul assisting with loading the large gun, and the other Fremen dealt with the others.

Using the Force to push back a soldier before swiftly killing her, she heard Chani command Paul to load the gun.

The Harkonnen soldiers were strong fighters as she impaled one through the stomach, the sizzling of flesh heard in her ears and she kicked the body away as she heard the gun go off towards the helicopter.

"Damn it", Chani cursed, "reload!"

"It has a shield?" she asked.

"Unfortunately", Paul answered.

Y/N moved back towards them to see the bullets heading towards and she raised her hand up, commanding the Force to block them from reaching them. They watched as the bullets hit the shield, falling onto the sand as she said, "hide! The harvester is about to move!"

Rushing to hide behind the moving leg, Paul said, "that shield only opens when it fires the gun. We need to hit it when its firing."

"I can see that", Chani said, "we need a distraction."

"Y/N and I can trigger it", Paul said, looking at her.

She nodded, "I will signal when."

"Understood", Chani said, "I only need a second once that shield opens."

Getting into position, she looked at Paul and he nodded before signaling for them to run into the uncovered area. She heard Chani's gun open up, ready to fire as the gun on the helicopter let out a large noise as if to signal it was about to rain down bullets.

And as she ran and the bullets rained down, a smile came across her face because she heard the impending explosion caused by Chani's gun.

And without the protection of the soldiers below or in the air, the Fremen hiding in the dunes would soon emerge and using their laser powered guns, they would cut through the harvester, rendering it useless.

🪐

Fedyakin was how Chani told her the Fremen liked to be referred to.

And sitting in the large tent next to Paul, their hands entwined and Chani next to her as they cheered for their success, she felt happiness. BB even twirled for them, letting out a series of beeps as he settled next to Chani (who had grown fond of the droid as well).

Chani handed them a thick, black stick that everyone ate and it had a slight bitter taste to it, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"You fought quite aerobatically", Chani mused, "who taught you that?"

"Master Yoda always told me that you have to always been adapt to any fight", she answered.

"Master Yoda?" Paul asked.

"Yes he was--"

BB let out a series of beeps before twirling, coming to roll in front of her.

"Wait, what do you mean you can show them?" she asked, BB beeped again. "You little secretive droid! You've had images of everyone and didn't tell me?"

He beeped again before opening a compartment and a hologram appeared of Master Yoda to the Fremen.

"I-I've never seen... anyone like that before", Paul gasped, staring at Yoda's image.

"That's Master Yoda", she laughed, "old but springy."

"He certainly... looks interesting", someone added.

BB showed the next image: Anakin and Ashoka, and her heart clenched.

"That's them, isn't it?" Paul whispered. "Your Master and friend?"

"Yes", she answered, "it's funny, it's been so long that I was beginning-"

She didn't want to finish her sentence because she was beginning to forget what they looked like.

BB beeped and let the image go, and she rubbed his head as Chani said, "and who taught you to fight, Paul?"

"My old masters, they were good friends of my family but died the night the Harkonnens attacked us."

It was silent in the tent.

"You've been fighting the Harkonnens for decades", Paul said, looking at BB. "My family has taught them for centuries. I know everything about them: their habits, ways of thinking."

"But they don't know Arrakis", Y/N mused, "that's their weakness. They know nothing about harnessing the desert."

"That is true", Paul answered, "if we continue to work together, we can take this planet back to the Fremen."

Stilgar questioned what they should do with Paul saying that he would follow Stilgar's instruction. Stilgar said going north where the harvesters tended to be was best course and Paul agreed.

"They stay North because of the sandstorms, yes?" she asked, Chani nodded.

"But the further North you go, the chance is you die."

"Then I die trying to bring Arrakis back to those who are the rightful heirs to it", she spoke with conviction.

"We won't stop until the Fremen are free, until Dune is free", Paul finished, looking at her and she smiled at him.

"They deserve to be Fedaykin", a woman said, voices of agreement rang in the tent.

"I do not deserve such an honor", Y/N answered.

"They needs names, Stilgar!"

"They do", Stilgar agreed.

Stilgar granted Paul the name of Usul, meaning base of a pillar, before Chani said, "your name should be Noor."'

"Yes!" Stilgar cheered, "like the light from the blade she carries! Excellent, Chani! Come, come here!"

Stilgar urged them to him and they followed as Stilgar softly spoke, "You both shall be known among us as Usul and Noor. And now, a Fedaykin is a fighter and needs a war name. You both must choose."

Y/N felt honor at this moment to be fully accepted into the Fremen, to now be a Fedaykin and she heard Paul ask, "how do you call the small desert mouse?"

"Muad'Dib?" Stilgar asked, Paul nodded. "Muad'Dib is wise in the desert and creates his own water. The constellation that points to the North Star, we call Muad'Dib."

"And you, Noor?" Stilgar motioned.

She thought for a moment before asking, "what is the name for peace?"

"Salomé", Stilgar said, "to chose this name means to hold the very strong values of bringing freedom, to maintain and fight against injustice. Yes, this is a good name."

Stilgar stood and motioned for them to stand as well.

"Now, you are our brother and sister... Paul Muad'Dib Usul and Y/N Salomé Noor."

Cheers rang in the tent soon after.

The heat of Arrakis seemed to be scorching her flesh as her vision blurred before a dark chuckle pulled her vision clear.

"You can feel it, can't it?" the voice was familiar. "The Force is more flexible now under your grasp. It bends to your will."

"The Force does not bend to anyone's will!" she shouted, her voice echoed.

"It does now to you, the power of it all and the thrill of it is exciting, isn't it?"

Darkness began to creep in around, enveloping her like a blanket before all she hear was her own breath before the familiar hum of a lightsaber whispered in her ears.

Suddenly, the flash of a red, dual-ended blade appeared before her and her eyes widened at the appearance of hooded, clocked figure.

"Don't be afraid of what's to come."

It was then the figure lowered their cloak and her eyes widened at the appearance of... herself.

Her opposing self smiled at her with a row of sharp teeth before lunging towards her.

She kept that dream to herself, unsure of what to make of the appearance of herself as a Sith.

Was that her future? Was she meant for the dark side of the Force? She wished she had Obi-Wan or Anakin to ask for help, Yoda would just confuse her with his riddles and she wished for more than anything the familiarity of her friends.

But what frightened her more was when she had awoken from the dream, there was no fear in her mind at the appearance of her dark self as if she was accepting of that fate.

Were the masters wrong in their teachings? Was her love for Paul tainting her values?

No, it couldn't be.

It had to be this war around her, the constant blood shed and need for survival around her.

When Y/N had thought of it, she found her own thinkings of the Force taught by the Jedi to be different. That while life was sacred, there was times when it couldn't be avoided while some of the dark side teachings made sense and she wondered where that left her.

If that left her walking on a grey line between both sides.

~

Things seem to change in the re-emerging of Paul's nightmare visions as she awoke to his tossing and turning, mumbling so harshly that she had to awake him from his fitful slumber.

"Paul", Y/N whispered, "what is it? It's been so long since you've dreamt like this?"

Paul slowly sat up, rubbing at his face and she saw the slight sweat on his brow as the sound of the quiet desert lingered around them in the early morning.

"Tell me, what was it about?"

Paul shook his head for a moment, his curls hanging over his eyes as he let out a tired sigh, "nothing's clear. It's only fragments."

He paused for a moment as his hand grasped hers, "we're in the South, following someone. And it triggers a holy war, millions and millions of people starving to death because of me."

"Chani said spice over exposure can create odd dreams", she said, running a hand through his hair.

"Maybe you're right", Paul agreed, "the spice may be playing tricks on me. Either way, you and I have quite the day ahead of us."

A smile graced Paul's lips as he brought her hand up to his lips, softly kissing the back of it.

Yes, today was a big day.

Because today they will attempt to call forth Shai-Hulud and ride him as the others do.

And only then will they truly become Fremen.

It was soon after that they were all back outside the sanctuary of their tents, dressed in their stilsuits and ready to call forth Shai-Hulud.

"Here", Chani said, handing her a thumper. "I made sure to tune it myself so you better not make a fool of me. I was your mentor."

Y/N could hear the playful tone in Chani's voice and smiled at the girl. She could hear Stilgar speaking to Paul as well and handing him a thumper.

"Don't worry", Chani reassured, "you will do great, Noor."

She was made to be on a farther, separate dune from Paul as to not ruin each other's chances. BB was with Chani, who had begun to warm up the cheery droid and find him useful in certain scenarios, and Y/N sucked in a deep breath as she activated her thumper, hearing it go off.

The hooks she would swing onto the worm's hide rested heavy in her hands, her lightsaber a familiar weight as it hung on her hip as she slowly closed her eyes.

A brief image of herself from the dream popped up in her mind but she wielded it away from her mind, focusing.

The deserts of Arrakis seemed to hum with life and the Force seemed ever present here as she closed her eyes. The familiar warm breeze that came occasionally within the dunes brushed over her face.

And it was then, she felt the familiar thump of life emerging from the sand...

Her dreams seemed to echo the planet around her, sand swirling and Spice heavy in the air.

Chani didn't know what to think when he first appeared in her dreams.

Tall, alabaster skin with no hair in sight and a fierce look in his seemingly black eyes that looked into her.

A sense of interest filled her whenever she would awaken from the dreams as she heard his rasp-toned voice asking her one single question over and over again.

"Where are you?"

TAGLIST

@cloudlst @khlaeesihavilliard @colors-for-the-world-please @senhoritaapple @dark1paradise @chalametabingbong @aoi-targaryen @star-maker-rain-dancer @nj452896

[lightasthesun]

i heard there was a HUGE outcry for more codywan fic recs...(@tapemonkey21 & @dontbelasagnax lol) so here I am posting another one

As always please mind the tags before diving headfirst into any fic you read and consider sharing your unbridled joy and unhinged thoughts with the writer in the comment section 😉

Desert Box by br1ghtmouth | 7k words

With a chip in his head that has already caused the ruin for which he was made, Cody finds his way to Tatooine in the hopes of tending to the painful layers of memories left behind in his own silt.

Facile Felicity by br1ghtmouth | 14k words

Primary functions are supposed to be useful: survive against all odds; shield one’s battalion; fight until the very last breath. Cody would prefer anything besides the bleeding heart he’s been dealt.

Or: the General makes plans. Cody follows.

Good man of war by scrapathon 🔒| 16k words

During a medic’s first mission with the 212th, everything goes wrong. In the midst of it all, Cody deals with his growing feelings towards General Kenobi.

Across the path by Threebea O(ThreeBea)| 1k words

Cody is inspecting a cave system. He meets his General.

No. Not his General.

“The pathway,” Obi-Wan whispered. “I understand now. C-Commander, I owe you an apology. I am not your General.”

But Obi-Wan isn't the only one that has crossed over into his universe.

Safe in hand by Threebea O(ThreeBea) | 11k words

Cody ends up where all griefstricken people on the run end up in the galaxy far, far away. He makes a life for himself looking for scrap in the deserts of Tatooine.

He always did have a knack for finding Kenobi's lightsaber.

in the middle before I knew that I had begun by tenderjock🔒| 2k words

Obi-Wan beams at him, feeling unbearably fond. His Cody. His darling. Always looking after him.

Cody’s face is very still, just a few inches above his. Obi-Wan reaches out, touches his scar.

“What are you thinking?” he wonders.

OR: as the war stumbles to its end, Obi-Wan is forced to reassess his relationship with his commander.

Floating on a Starless Sea by shadowmaat🔒| 2k words

A cave-in leaves Cody trapped and badly injured. With another contingent of droids on the way there isn't time to try and dig him out. Obi-Wan is forced to make a difficult choice.

when the jebwa flower blooms by mxartbotboy🔒| 10k words

One year since the end of the war, and Cody still hasn’t figured out what to do about Obi-Wan. With Coruscant struggling to make the transition with the New Republic, Cody already has enough on his plate without trying to untangle the knot that is his feelings for the ex-Jedi. Will the tightly twisted flower bud finally bloom?

love without compromise by mxartbotboy🔒(ch.1) |

Cody has a panicked moment with his General and reveals more than he means to.

grip my hand through the pain by The_Last_Kenobi🔒| 2k words

It's all just happened, and yet Cody cannot stop playing it over and over in his head.

The trek into the hills, the deserted path.

His General standing like a human shield between his battalion and a wall of fire.

Panacea by MissyPup | 4k words

Cody has been falling for his General for two years. Two long, war filled years. But he's been able to stay in control of his feelings by just not acknowledging them.

But having to share a bed with the man he's been daydreaming about for two years makes Cody so tense Obi-Wan decides to give him a massage to help out.

Obi-Wan would certainly be the death of him.

Facula by MissyPup | 5k words

Obi-Wan would only be gone for a few days, Cody could handle that alone. Until his thoughts catch up to him thanks to Beru.

Or: How the Kenobi series should have gone because Cody deserves to be there.

Interrobang by MissyPup | 10k words

“I love you.” Cody blurted out so fast that even he was surprised by it.

Obi-Wan leaned back a bit, enough to touch Cody’s cheek and grin, “I love you too, Cody.”

“Keeping this a secret is hard.” Cody admitted, reaching up to grip Obi-Wan’s robes again. “But I know what would happen if anyone found out… Kriff, Rex found out on his own and I thought I was going to-”

coming full circle by catboydogma 🔒| 5k words

Or: five times Obi-Wan has handed Cody his lightsaber and one time Cody handed Obi-Wan his lightsaber

A Hush Sublime by catboydogma | 10k words

When Master Qui-Gon died, Obi-Wan had known him for half his life. He thought—sometimes, distantly, like the artificial Coruscanti sunlight—that he should have told Qui-Gon more often. They hadn’t needed words in living: Qui-Gon was a man of action more than anything else, and they both had difficulties in unspooling the thick vines of feeling inside their chests enough to speak of them. Obi-Wan had loved Qui-Gon. He’d thought, more than once, that that adoring love, of the Initiate that Obi-Wan still was at heart, had been a sign of a terrible and thorny attachment.

that is that + this is this by catboydogma🔒| 8k words

“Here. Drink, Cody. Come on. Don’t die on me now, not when you went to all the trouble to get out here.”

“Didn’t know,” Cody rasped.

“So I shouldn’t be expecting a cavalcade of Imperial stormtroopers to show up here, then?” The man asked, bland as anything.

The Commander gave this the consideration it was due. “No.” “Forgive me if I don’t immediately believe you.” The man’s voice sharpened, but his grip on the Commander stayed gentle, supporting his head even when it lolled back against his will. “When have I ever let you down?” Cody asked.

The man’s breathing hitched. He set Cody back down against the blankets and retreated to his spot several feet away, blaster and charge pack between the two of them like some strange barrier. “When you killed me,” the man said.

repeat, replay, return by Serie11🔒| 3k words

The last time he saw his General, Cody was ordering him shot off a cliff.

Ten years later, and Obi-Wan is in a bacta tank again. Some things, it seems, don’t change; Cody’s feelings among them.

all the world in my arms by biscuityskies | 5k words

A brief wry smirk flashes across his face, and as Cody meets his own eyes in the reflection of his drink, it softens. If he had to rationalise it, this anxiety most likely stems from the recent developments with the general.

Something's been off about him ever since he came back from the mission to Kadavo.

Compartment Syndrome by elwenyere | 3k words

Cody was lucky, really, that Obi-Wan had lost consciousness during the crash, because otherwise he would never have gotten away with the tender pressure building in his wrist - much less the lance of pain that sliced across his arm every time he adjusted his General’s weight over his shoulder.

I Promise by dontbelasagnax🔒| 6k words

Mace raises an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. He looks over Cody for a solid thirty grueling seconds, evaluating. "Hypothetically," he says in that dry way of his that is nearly impossible to tell whether he's making fun of Cody or teaching him a lesson, "if someone wanted to propose to their partner, they'd bring it up with said partner."

[ OR: Cody has plans. He's going to make a certain Jedi a very happy man. ]

The Lessons Not Yet Learned by meadmeinthemiddle | 23k words

The Force works in mysterious ways. Cody knows this, theoretically, but it all seems so far beyond him that he tends to not pay it any mind.

Little does Cody know, the Force has its claws buried deeper into him than he can possibly imagine - he just hasn't realized it yet.

: (Is to) :: (As) by TamerLorika | 12k words

Cody notices that Kenobi's regard for himself is always clinical and utilitarian. As he ponders a way to break the stalemate, he begins to learn more about the lightsaber that is so often in his hands, and how it relates to the subject of Kenobi's own soul.

for you, only you by dontbelasagnax | 11k words

“What's next for you, my dear, now that you’re a citizen of the Republic?” Obi-Wan tilts his head, expression alight and imploring. “You could get a job and find a place of your own amongst the many levels of Coruscant- or the stars.”

Light Will Prevail by kotekenobii | 3k words

In the aftermath of battle, an exhausted Obi-Wan slips away to watch the sunrise. Worried, Cody seeks him out.

Based on the end of Obi-Wan Kenobi #3.

You're the Only Stim I Need by Captora | 7k words

The five times Marshal Commander Cody brought General Kenobi bad GAR caf and the one time Obi-Wan showed Cody what caf was supposed to taste like.

[33max]

3 times GP uses the force to speak to Max | 1000ish words of padawan max and master lambiase ✨

“Max,” Gianpiero sighs, “would you mind?”

It takes Max a moment to understand what his Master is talking about, Max hadn’t been doing anything… copiloting is boring and he had completely zoned out while Gianpiero navigated them around the fourth moon and into the nearest hyperspace lane. Max was just daydreaming about getting back to the temple and finally having his own quarters, away from his Master, where he could- oh.

“Sorry,” Max blushes, looking over at his Master and shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He can suddenly feel where the leather belts are digging into his shoulders and his groin.

It’s embarrassing how often this happens. He shares a strong training bond with his Master, as most Padawans do during their Jedi training. They can share thoughts, feelings, and even images across the bond when they concentrate – Max both loves and hates it, especially when GP insists on cracking the most ridiculous Dad jokes directly into Max’s brain in the middle of briefings from the Jedi Council.

Max does try to shield his personal thoughts from GP, but he’s not very good at it yet. His peers seem to have mastered this skill, and his Master worries that Max is not practising enough. GP is probably right, Max is very good at shielding from others, but his bond with GP is too strong… when he shuts it out it feels like part of him is missing. So he doesn’t shut it out.

“It is okay, Padawan,” Gianpiero smirks, “It has happened to us all.”

“It doesn’t happen to you,” Max groans. His Master never shares anything without intending to.

“No,” Gianpiero laughs, “but that is because I practised shielding from my master, Max.”

Max glares at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gianpiero says, calmly. “You need to practice.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t like it. I like having you there.”

“I know, Max, but it is an important skill that you must learn before you can become a Jedi Knight. Not to mention I do not want to be sent indecent thoughts of Padawan Leclerc while I am flying.”

“You could have let me fly,” Max says, shaking off the embarrassment of GP witnessing some of his more lewd daydreams.

You can fly when you practice your shielding.

Max frowns. “Fine.”

—————

If there is one thing that Max knows he’s good at, it’s lightsaber combat. He knows all of the lightsaber forms well, he can fight in any of them, and he knows that he’s the best in his class. Padawan Leclerc is very good, especially at Djem So, but Max refuses to lose. Especially to Charles because Charles is good at everything. Even hyperspace theory. All of the Masters love Charles.

Anyway, Jar’Kai comes naturally to Max. And he’s not just good at it, he’s the best.

The first time he had tried Jar’Kai, he knew. He felt it in the force. He didn’t even have to think about his next move, his body already knew it, and the force hummed around him pleasantly.

He was practising Ataru with his Master, and Gianpiero had looked at him, tilted his head, and said “You’re fighting like something is missing. Maybe you should try a second blade in your left hand.”

And then Gianpiero was handing across his own blade for Max to try.

“Are you sure?” Max asked, holding his Master’s weapon so carefully. The hilt was still warm from where Gianpiero had been gripping.

“Of course,” Gianpiero laughed. “Come on, let’s set up the training droid.”

The moment Max ignited both blades it felt right. One orange blade and one blue, glowing in each of his hands. He had found his lightsaber form, but it was not just that, holding his Master’s ignited blade he felt like he was two halves made whole.

“It suits you,” Gianpiero commented as Max took his opening stance against the training droid.

Guess we found your form.

Can you feel that, Master? The force…

Yes, Padawan. I can feel it. ——————

“This sucks,” Max shivers.

It has been three days since their ship crashed in the middle of fucking nowhere on an ice planet of all things.

He is sick of being cold. He is sick of having to light a fire to defrost ice to have water to drink. He is sick of eating ration packs. He can’t feel his toes. He wants to go home.

“Sharing a tent with me or being stuck on Hoth?” Gianpiero asks, amused. He’s way too relaxed for someone who might freeze to death soon.

Max doesn’t blame his Master for the crash, not at all, very few star pilots could have avoided being shot down by the seventeen vulture droids that the separatists had sent to ambush them. He just can’t help but be irritated at his Master’s inhuman ability to stay completely calm and level-headed about their current situation.

“Both,” Max says, curling up further into his sleeping bag and turning his back on his Master. This isn’t the time for jokes.

“Max…” Gianpiero says, “Someone will come for us.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I can feel it.”

“You said that three days ago.”

“And I was right three days ago.”

Max lets out a frustrated scream into his stupid too thin and slightly damp pillow. He is sick of waiting for a rescue that might not be coming.

Padawan, come here.

“No.”

Max, you’re cold. Come here.

“I am not cold,” Max says stubbornly, even though his teeth are chattering.

“Padawan,” Gianpiero sighs. You don’t always have to be so strong, part of being a Jedi is being able to acknowledge what we are feeling and be vulnerable before letting that emotion go.

Max’s eyes water. He’s fine.

His Master must feel Max’s misery in the force, because the next thing Max knows he is being force-pulled, sleeping bag and all, into his Master’s arms.

It startles a laugh out of him. “Master!”

I’ve missed this, you’ve not snuggled your old Master in years.

I’m too old for this.

You’re never too old to be comforted, Max. Remember that.

[ct7567329]

What Comes After ~ Kix x F!Jedi Reader

Summary: Trapped together during a dangerous mission, you and Kix navigate both a tunnel on Utapau and the feelings you’ve hidden for too long.

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (it's mostly fluff today!)

A/N: i loved seeing all the love for Kix in my latest poll! writing this actually put me in my Kix feels again. he's literally so precious and would absolutely be a perfect husband. if this does well enough (or enough people ask) i'll absolutely make a part 2 bc i'm simping hard for this man rn. anyways, I digress, enjoy 🫶

join my taglist / masterlist

The hangar bay of the Resolute thrummed with life. The cold, metallic air shimmered under the brilliant lights that bounced off durasteel hulls and rows of meticulously stacked crates. Shinies in crisp white armor moved like clockwork, securing gear, checking supplies, and loading equipment into waiting gunships. The familiar scent of lubricants, ozone, and the faint undercurrent of blaster residue clung to every surface, a constant reminder of the war’s omnipresence.

Kix stood among them, his helmet tucked beneath one arm, though his gaze was far from the tactical maps flickering in blue holo-light in front of him. His body was present, lined up alongside his brothers in the 501st, listening, or at least pretending to, while Captain Rex outlined their next mission with his usual calm precision. But his mind, stubborn and reckless, was elsewhere.

It was on you.

You stood a few meters away, your Jedi robes catching the faint breeze stirred by the gunships’ idle repulsorlifts. The glow of the holo-map lit your face in soft blue, accentuating the sharp focus in your eyes as you absorbed the briefing’s details. The way you tilted your head, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of your lightsaber, was a picture burned into Kix’s memory.

He should have been listening. Rex’s words were clear: infiltration of Utapau’s sinkhole systems, suspected Separatist droid operations, possible environmental hazards. But all Kix could hear was the steady, traitorous thrum of his heartbeat in his ears, the slight tightening in his chest whenever you so much as shifted your weight or brushed a flyaway strand of hair from your face.

He began to wonder when his infatuation with you started. Kix didn’t know exactly. Maybe it was that day on Kamino when you first arrived to join the 501st, presenting an unfamiliar face in the midst of sterile white corridors and the hum of rain on the domes. He’d noticed you then, not just because you were new, but because of how you carried yourself. Jedi often walked with detachment, a weight of the galaxy’s burdens on their shoulders, but you met the clones’ eyes. You spoke with them, not at them. You asked for names, not ranks.

Or maybe it was that deployment on Felucia. He remembered watching you work in the medbay after a mission, your sleeves rolled up, fingers steady as you healed a trooper’s shattered arm. You’d been exhausted, the stress lines faint at the corners of your mouth, but you’d still let out a tired and small, but genuine smile. And when Kix had offered to finish suturing the wound for you, your hands had brushed his, warm and grounding. He’d felt the spark then, quick and fleeting like the crackle of a deflector shield.

But it hadn’t faded. If anything, it had deepened into something more dangerous.

He caught himself staring again and quickly looked away, focusing instead on the lines of the hangar floor and the scuffed boots of Fives beside him.

“Hey, Kix,” came a voice at his side. Jesse’s tone was low, teasing, but not unkind, “You with us, or have you drifted off into love-struck oblivion?”

Kix scowled faintly but didn’t respond immediately. Jesse nudged him with an elbow.

Hardcase leaned in from the other side, his grin wide beneath his helmet, “C’mon, we’ve all seen the way you look at her. You’ve got it bad.”

“I do not,” Kix said, a touch more sharply than he intended, his cheeks warming beneath the cool metal of his helmet.

Fives, ever the opportunist, smirked, “What’s the matter, Kix? Scared she’s going to read your mind? Jedi can do that, you know.”

“I’m not—” Kix started, but Jesse cut him off, his grin widening.

“Relax, we’re just giving it to you. But if you faint during the mission because you’re too busy staring, we’ll have to carry you out.”

The others chuckled, and even Rex, though maintaining his composed expression, allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch in amusement.

Kix exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, but he couldn’t fully suppress the smile threatening at the edges of his lips. His brothers meant well, and their ribbing, though embarrassing, felt like a grounding force amid the swirl of emotions he tried so hard to keep locked down.

The briefing concluded, and the troopers began to break formation, heading toward the waiting gunships. Kix adjusted the strap of his medpack across his chest, mentally reviewing the contents: bacta patches, field sealant, stim injectors, painkillers. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize he was standing still amidst the scattering of troops around him.

You approached him, your stride sure and light, your expression softening as you drew near, “Kix,” you said, your voice quiet but firm  “Are you ready?”

His throat tightened briefly, and he had to clear it before answering, “Yes, General. I’m ready.”

Your eyes met his, trying to ground him, but keeping a faint glimmer of something he couldn’t quite name, “Good. Stay close during the descent. I might need you.”

“I’ll be right there then."

As you turned to join the other Jedi boarding the gunships, Kix felt a pang of something sharp and tender twist beneath his ribs. He watched you for a moment longer before pulling his helmet into place. The world narrowed to the faint hiss of the seal locking and the muted sounds of the hangar outside.

Inside the gunship, he settled onto one of the benches beside Jesse and Hardcase, the others filling in around them. The rumble of the engines vibrated up through his boots, a low, comforting growl. The doors sealed shut, and the hangar fell away beneath them as the gunships lifted into the upper atmosphere.

The others continued their light banter, but Kix’s thoughts were elsewhere. He stared at the floor of the gunship, the scuffed metal, the faint traces of carbon scoring from past engagements. His pulse quickened as he replayed your brief exchange in his mind, dissecting every nuance of your expression, the subtle tilt of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes.

Naturally, he wanted to kick himself for being like this and not being able to push the feelings aside, like he was supposed to. Jedi were meant to be unattainable, distant. Attachments were forbidden. For you, love could mean danger, vulnerability, a risk to everything you fought for. But still, he felt the pull of something deeper, the ache of wanting more than friendship, more than duty.

Kix’s fingers curled slightly against the edge of his medkit. He couldn’t afford distractions. Not here, not now. The mission came first. His brothers depended on him to keep them alive, to mend their wounds and hold the line.

Yet his thoughts turned stubborn, reckless, insistent. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was dangerous. But if this mission went sideways, if something happened and you were hurt, Kix knew with a grim certainty that he’d move the stars to protect you.

Utapau’s surface stretched out beneath them as the gunships banked into descent. The world’s vast sinkholes yawned open like gaping mouths, their depths shadowed and secretive. From the upper atmosphere, the craggy edges of the sinkholes seemed almost delicate, like fragile lacework carved into the planet’s crust. But Kix knew those caverns were deep and treacherous, filled with unseen dangers and potential collapse points.

As the gunship shuddered slightly, dropping altitude, he glanced at you across the compartment. You sat with Anakin and Ahsoka, head bowed in concentration, perhaps meditating or simply preparing yourself for the challenge ahead.

In that moment, as the gunship’s engines roared and the ground loomed closer, Kix let himself feel the weight of his heart in his chest, the unspoken promise he’d made to himself. Whatever awaited them at the surface, he wouldn’t let you face it alone.

The gunship rocked violently as it descended into the sinkhole. Dust and grit battered against the viewports, painting streaks of dirt and shadow across the armored glass. Below them, Utapau’s craters swallowed the gunships whole, the sun’s light fading to a thin, dusty glow as they dropped deeper into the sinkhole’s throat.

Kix tightened his grip on the bench’s handholds, the vibration of the repulsorlifts rattling up through his armor. The hangar’s bright lights were gone now, replaced by the oppressive darkness of Utapau’s cavernous depths. The air grew heavier, the temperature cooler, the walls of the sinkhole rising like jagged teeth around them.

Beside him, Jesse murmured, “Lovely place for a picnic, huh?”

Hardcase snorted, but Kix barely heard them. His eyes, though obscured by his visor, were fixed on you as you rose from your seat to glance toward the cockpit. You leaned slightly forward, bracing yourself against the wall, the faint light catching in your hair.

The gunship bucked as it banked hard to the right. The pilot’s voice crackled through the comms, "Approaching LZ. Separatist contacts on the outer rim of the sinkhole. Prepare for insertion.”

Kix felt his pulse quicken. He shifted his weight, checking his medkit with a practiced motion, double-checking the placement of the emergency bacta and ensuring his field injectors were secure. His armor felt heavier here, the close walls of the sinkhole pressing in around them, but he welcomed the weight.

The gunship’s side doors hissed open as the repulsorlifts strained to hold them steady against the swirling dust and debris. Below, the landing zone, a narrow ledge near the mouth of a cavern waited, but already, Kix could see flashes of blue and red as blaster fire crisscrossed the air.

“Go, go, go!” Rex’s voice cut through the noise. The troopers surged forward, dropping from the gunship’s skids with practiced efficiency. Kix was among them, landing in a crouch and immediately scanning the surroundings.

The air was thick with dust, the tang of electric from blaster bolts, and the distant rumble of shifting rock. The enemy wasn’t concentrated but instead was scattered pockets of droids taking potshots from behind boulders and natural outcroppings. But the terrain was treacherous and narrow ledge was uneven, riddled with fissures and loose stone.

You landed nearby, your lightsaber igniting with a snap-hiss of brilliant blue. The blade’s glow cast flickering shadows on the cavern walls as you deflected incoming fire, your movements swift and precise. Kix felt a sharp jolt of admiration, and perhaps something more, as he saw you turn, briefly, to ensure the clones were advancing safely.

The battle was quick but brutal. The Separatist droids, clearly not expecting such a coordinated assault, began to retreat deeper into the caves. Rex signaled for the squad to pursue.

“That way,” you called, gesturing toward the droids’ path. Your voice was clear, calm amidst the chaos, “They’re falling back into the caverns. We need to cut them off before they regroup.”

Kix hesitated for only a moment, then fell in step behind you as the squad moved forward. The ledge narrowed further, forcing them into single file, the cavern mouth looming ahead like the throat of some vast beast.

The ground beneath them trembled. At first, it was faint, barely more than a whisper of vibration beneath your feet. But then it deepened into a low, ominous rumble. Small stones began to clatter down the walls, bouncing and skittering across the ledge.

“Look out!” you shouted, turning sharply, your eyes wide with alarm.

A deafening crack split the air as the wall above them gave way. A cascade of rock and debris came crashing down, a landslide triggered by blaster fire or the unstable terrain. Dust billowed upward, blinding and choking.

“Take cover!” Rex’s voice rang out, but it was too late.

Kix’s instincts took over. He lunged toward you, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward a narrow fissure at the cave’s entrance. Together, you stumbled inside just as the landslide surged past, a wall of dust and debris sealing the entrance behind you.

The world narrowed to the space of the cave, the sudden silence broken only by the sound of falling dust and your ragged breaths. Kix coughed, waving a hand to clear the air, though the fine grit coated your armor, skin, hair, everything.

You were on your knees beside him, lightsaber extinguished but still in hand, your shoulders rising and falling as you caught your breath.

“Kix are you alright?” you asked, your voice rough from the dust.

He nodded, though his chest felt tight, “I’m fine. You?”

You gave a faint, breathless laugh, “I’ve been better. But I’m alright.”

Together, you turned to face the collapsed entrance. The pile of rock and debris was massive, a tangle of jagged stone and packed earth. Even a lightsaber would struggle to carve through it without risking further collapse.

You pressed a hand against the rubble, closing your eyes briefly. Kix watched as you reached out with the Force, trying to sense the stability of the remaining structure. The effort made your brow furrow, sweat beading along your temple.

“It’s too unstable,” you said softly, “If I try to clear it, it could bring the whole cavern down.”

Kix’s jaw tightened, “Then we’ll find another way out.”

You glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude in your gaze, “I'm pretty sure that's our only option.”

He nodded, his voice firm despite the tightness in his throat, "We'll figure this out, General."

You offered him a faint smile, playing with the use of titles, "We always do, Medic.”

As you rose to your feet, brushing dust from your robes, Kix felt the knot of tension in his chest ease slightly. Even trapped in a collapsing cave, with danger pressing in from all sides, your presence steadied him.

He swallowed hard, turning his gaze deeper into the cavern’s shadowed depths. The light from the entrance was faint now, a soft glow filtering through cracks in the rubble. Ahead, the tunnel sloped upward, the walls narrowing and twisting out of sight.

Kix adjusted his medpack, his hand brushing against the worn strap. The weight of it was a familiar comfort, but it also served as a grim reminder of the situation. They were cut off from the rest of the squad.

The thought made his gut twist. He’d faced danger before, through ambushes, explosions, blaster fire, but the idea of you, alone and vulnerable, struck a chord of fear he couldn’t shake.

“Let’s move,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the weight of the situation.

Kix nodded, falling into step beside you as you began to navigate the winding tunnel. The air grew cooler, the walls damp with condensation. Each footstep echoed softly, a reminder of the vast emptiness around them.

As they pressed deeper into the shadows, Kix felt a gnawing worry settle beneath his ribs. He wasn’t just concerned for your safety, though that alone was enough to make his hands tremble. It was more than that. It was the growing realization that he couldn’t imagine leaving this cave without you.

And in that moment, amidst the dust and silence and shifting shadows, Kix understood the depth of his feelings.

He was in love with you.

Kix’s steps echoed softly on the uneven floor as he followed you deeper into the darkness. Behind him, the sealed entrance was a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional hiss of shifting debris settling into place.

The only light came from the faint glow of your lightsaber as you ignited it, casting a gentle blue hue along the cave walls. It illuminated streaks of crystalline minerals and the occasional trickle of water seeping from cracks in the rock.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The narrow tunnel twisted and turned, descending deeper beneath the surface. Kix focused on each careful step, noting the way your shoulders were set with determined tension. You were trying to stay calm, to assess the situation, but he could see the fine tremor in your hand as it gripped the hilt of your saber.

He cleared his throat quietly, breaking the heavy silence, “You’re holding up better than most would,” he muttered, his voice low but warm, "you seem exhausted."

You glanced back at him, the blue light glinting in your eyes, "So are you, Kix. For both."

He gave a soft snort, more out of habit than humor, “I’m used to patching people up, not getting trapped in caves. But I guess it’s good to keep me on my toes.”

A flicker of a smile touched your lips, a small but genuine response to his attempt at levity. The sight made his pulse quicken, a tight ache settling in his chest.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months now. Ever since that mission on Christophsis when you’d saved his life with a sudden, precise strike of your saber, cutting down a droid that had nearly shot him point-blank. He’d been shaken, grateful, but it was the calm, focused, protective look in your eyes that had stayed with him. After that, it was as if every moment spent with you was magnified. The way you tilted your head when you listened. The quiet, steady authority you carried in briefings. The rare moments when your smile broke through the mask of command and revealed something softer, something just for them.

But he wasn’t oblivious. A Jedi and a clone weren’t supposed to have that connection. Yet here in the shadows of a collapsing cave, the rules felt very far away.

As the tunnel widened slightly, you paused to scan the area. Kix watched the way your shoulders rose and fell with each breath, the soft sound of the lightsaber humming at your side. His heart ached with something sharp and unwelcome as he knowledge that if this cave became your tomb, he’d never get the chance to tell you how he fells.

“How deep do you think we are?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with a tremor he couldn’t quite suppress.

You turned, considering, “Hard to say. Utapau’s sinkholes run deep, and these caves are likely natural extensions. We’re probably under several hundred meters of rock by now.”

“Lovely,” he muttered.

You gave a small, tired laugh, “We’ll find a way out, Kix.”

“I know,” he said, though a shiver crept up his spine. His body was already aching from the weight of his armor, the strain of the mission, and now the added tension of uncertainty. But he pushed it aside. You were here and alive. That was what mattered to him.

A faint rumble echoed through the rock, and both of you instinctively crouched, scanning for signs of another collapse. But the tremor passed, leaving only silence.

You straightened, exhaling slowly, “Let’s keep moving. We need to find a passage that leads upward.”

Kix nodded, though his legs were beginning to protest. They continued forward, the tunnel sloping downward before finally leveling out into a wider chamber. The ceiling arched above them, glittering with mineral deposits that caught your lightsaber’s light like scattered stars. For a brief moment, it was almost beautiful.

Kix found himself staring at the light on the stone, the soft reflection in your eyes as you turned to scan the chamber. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward, his foot brushing against a loose rock.

The sudden shift sent a sharp pain lancing up his leg. He gasped, stumbling as his knee buckled beneath him.

“Kix!” you turned sharply, the saber flickering dangerously as you caught him before he could fall completely.

“I’m fine—” he started, but the pain worsened, a sharp, twisting agony that made his vision blur. He sank to his knees, clutching at his side where the armor plates had shifted.

You crouched beside him, urgency in your voice, "Where does it hurt?”

“Left side and lower back. Feels like something’s torn,” he ground out, his breathing shallow.

Your hands moved quickly, fingers tracing along the edges of his armor with practiced ease, “You might have a fracture or internal bleeding,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, “I need to check.”

Kix gritted his teeth, “Don’t overextend yourself. You’ve already used Force to keep the landslide out of the cave. I don't want to drain you too much.”

Your hand stilled briefly on his arm, “Kix,” you said softly, and he heard the unspoken plea in your voice.

He forced a strained smile, “I’ll be fine. Just a little banged up. Not the first time.”

You gave him a look that silenced his protests. Slowly, carefully, you began to remove the plates of his armor, your fingers deftly releasing the catches. When you peeled up the lower hem of his upper blacks both of you winced. The skin beneath was bruised, swelling rapidly with discoloration spreading across toward his hip.

“Looks like a deep muscle tear or a bleed," you said quietly. “And I’m guessing you hit your back pretty hard, too.”

Kix felt lightheaded, his breathing shallow. The pain was intensifying, a deep, pulsing ache that made it hard to focus, “I’ll manage."

But you were already preparing yourself. He saw the way you closed your eyes, steadying your breath, gathering the Force around you. The faint glow of your saber dimmed as you focused, the air around you charged with energy.

Kix’s eyes widened, “No. You’re exhausted already. If you—”

“I’m not letting you die here, Kix,” you cut him off firmly, your voice a low whisper that sent a shiver through him.

The words struck him harder than any injury. He opened his mouth to protest and argue, but the glow of your hands as you pressed them gently to his side silenced him. The warmth of the Force flowed into him, a gentle, golden pulse of energy that soothed the tearing agony and slowed the bleeding.

His vision blurred, not from pain this time, but from a wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. You were risking yourself for him, pouring every ounce of strength you had left into holding him together.

The pain dulled, and he felt his breathing steady, but as the glow around your hands faded, your shoulders slumped, and you sagged against him.

“No, no, General,” Kix’s voice broke as he caught you, his hands cradling your head as you slipped into unconsciousness, “oh come on. Stay awake, please."

The cave around them was silent except for his ragged breaths and the soft echo of his whispered pleas. Its walls loomed close like silent witnesses. The air was heavy with the faint tang of minerals and dust, broken only by the shallow echo of Kix’s ragged breathing and the soft rustle of your robes against the stone floor.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, your skin cool beneath his gloved hand. Kix's pulse hammered in his throat as he cradled you, his hands trembling slightly not from the terror of seeing you collapse like that.

"Please, General," he whispered, his voice frayed and raw, "Don’t leave me here. Please."

His fingers brushed your temple, tracing the curve of your cheek as if by sheer will he could anchor you to him, keep you tethered to this fragile moment. Your eyelids fluttered, lashes casting faint shadows, and his heart caught painfully.

Then, you let in a soft inhale, shallow but steady. Relief flooded him, so sharp it made his vision blur.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice cracking on the word. "You’re okay. You’re still here."

You stirred faintly, your weight shifting against him. Your voice was barely a whisper, "Kix?"

"Right here," he said, tightening his hold as if he could shield you from the cold, the fear, the crushing weight of rock above them, "You’re good. I’ve got you."

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing your face as you tried to sit up. But he was already guiding you back down, his hands steady but gentle.

"Don’t move too fast," he said softly, "You passed out after healing me."

Realization dawned in your eyes, along with a flicker of guilt, "Oh, Kix. I'm so sorry. I-"

"I know," he interrupted, his voice rough with emotion, "But you scared me half to death."

Your lips quirked faintly, the shadow of a smile ghosting across them, "That’s not an easy thing to do."

Kix let out a shaky breath, a sound that was almost a laugh but caught somewhere between relief and exhaustion. He brushed a thumb lightly along your cheek, the touch intimate in a way neither of you had dared before. "You didn't have to do that," he whispered. "You gave everything you had left."

"But for you though," you murmured, the words so soft they might have been a thought.

He closed his eyes briefly, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest. When he opened them, he saw you watching him, your gaze tired but steady.

"How’s your side?" you asked, your voice still faint.

"Never better," he replied, though the truth was more complicated. The pain was a dull throb now, numbed by your Force healing, but he could faintly feel lingering pinches. Still, he wasn’t about to tell you that.

"Good. Then let's get out of here."

Kix hesitated, then gently shifted you into a more comfortable position, resting your head on his lap. He leaned back against the cave wall, careful of the instability of the soil, and cradled you close.

"We will," he agreed quietly, though in truth, he wasn’t sure how. The cave was vast and treacherous, but in that moment, with your heartbeat steady against his, the crushing weight of fear eased. "Eventually," he continued, "let's just take a minute."

You hummed in agreement and let your eyelids close. There was something too comfortable about resting your head on Kix's lap that you couldn't resist his offer to relax for a moment.

Time passed in silence, broken only by the faint dripping of water and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Kix listened to it like a lifeline, grounding himself in the simple reality of your presence.

After a while, you stirred again, sensing his gaze was locked onto you. "You’re hovering, Kix," your voice was soft but tinged with a hint of humor.

His lips twitched, "I can’t help it. Occupational hazard."

You cracked one eye open, meeting his before you lifted your head up, resting your hand on the cave walls to help you stand up, "More like boyfriend hazard." The words slipped from your lips in a murmur, half-drowsy and teasing, but they hit him like a blaster bolt.

His breath caught, his pulse stumbling as he stared down at you, stunned into stillness.

Boyfriend hazard.

You said it like a joke, your voice light, your lips curving faintly in a tired smile. But Kix’s mind reeled, the weight of that single word sinking in. It wasn’t the playful tone you’d used, or even the way your smile softened the edges of the moment. It was the truth beneath the jest. The quiet acknowledgment of something fragile and unspoken blooming between you. Before you could get on your feet, he grabbed your wrist and tugged slightly. Acknowledging his silent wishes, you sat down next to him, legs crossed.

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening painfully. Slowly, his hand brushed your hair back from your face, his fingertips tracing the line of your jaw, down to your neck where your pulse fluttered faintly beneath his touch.

"Is that what I am to you?" he asked, his voice low and almost trembling, not from fear but from the overwhelming tenderness blooming inside him.

You blinked up at him, the teasing glint in your eyes fading into something softer, more open, "Well that would surely complicate things." You watched his smile fall before you continued, "but I'm not necessarily one to take the easy path."

The corner of his mouth curved, not quite a smile, more a raw, vulnerable thing. He leaned down slightly, his forehead brushing yours as he exhaled a shuddering breath.

"You’ve been in my head since Kamino," he whispered, his voice a confession, "I thought it was just a silly crush. But then you kept showing up. In the medbay, in the field, everywhere. And I realized I was looking for you. Every damn day."

Your breath caught, your lips parting as though to respond, but he pressed a gentle finger to them.

"And I’m not saying this because we’re trapped in here," he said quietly, his voice firm despite the tenderness, "I’m saying it because it’s been building for a long time. And I can’t pretend its not there anymore."

You shifted slightly, wincing as you moved to sit up, your forehead still close to his, "I don't like pretending either," you whispered.

His lips twitched faintly, his other hand coming up to cradle your cheek, "Then I'm an idiot for waiting this long."

You let out a soft laugh, the sound mingling with his. The weight of exhaustion and fear lingered at the edges of the moment, but here, in this quiet, hidden place beneath the surface of a war-torn world, it was just you and Kix. No ranks, no orders, no looming battles. Just a man and a woman, leaning into each other because it was all they had.

Kix’s thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, tracing the curve of your smile. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat that stretched between you. But instead of closing the distance, he simply rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the hush of the cavern.

"We’re getting out of here," he said softly. "Not because we have to, but because we want to. But because there’s more than just survival waiting for us outside."

You nodded faintly, your eyes fluttering closed, your breath hitching slightly as you leaned into him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. His arms remained around you, steady and warm, his pulse a reassuring thrum against yours. You drifted, not quite asleep, but caught in that quiet space between wakefulness and dreams, wrapped in the safety of his embrace.

Kix’s fingers traced idle patterns along your back, his mind quiet for the first time in what felt like days. And though the cave around you was dark and still, in that small bubble of warmth and whispered promises, it felt almost like home.

For a long while, neither of you moved. Kix’s arms felt like a shelter while his breath pushed softly against your hair. The moment of confessions and half-spoken truths, lingered like a quiet echo in the stillness of the cave.

But eventually, the reality of your situation pressed in. The faint tremor of cold in your limbs was begging for you to move. You stirred first, a reluctant shift that made Kix’s arm tighten briefly around you before he reluctantly let you go.

“We should keep moving,” you suggested, forcing back a yawn.

Kix nodded, though he didn’t seem particularly eager to let you go. He pressed a gentle, soft, almost absent-minded kiss to the top of your head before drawing back and groaning as he got up.

“Yeah,” he agreed, "We should.”

You rose, stiff and aching, but determined. Kix retrieved his scattered armor and, with your help, strapped it back on as best as you could.

Once ready, the two of you began moving again, deeper into the labyrinth of rock and shadow. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the faint scent of moss and mineral-rich water. You used your lightsaber again to light the path ahead, a faint blue glow casting long shadows against the walls. For a while, the silence was companionable, the rhythm of your footsteps echoing softly off the walls.

But then Kix’s voice broke the quiet, tentative but steady, “When did you know?” he asked, glancing sideways at you.

You slowed slightly, startled by the question, "Know what?”

“You know,” he rolled out the syllables, dancing around what he asked, “I guess to put it simple, about the feeling being mutual.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. The cave narrowed, forcing you both to walk closer, your shoulders almost brushing. “I’m not sure,” you admitted after a breath, “I'm not sure if it was sudden. I can see little moments. Like the way you always look out for the others. How you never hesitate to help, no matter how bad things get. The way you laugh, even when you’re exhausted. How you always make me feel like I’m not just another Jedi. I feel like I'm just me.”

Kix rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, “I guess I didn’t make it easy to ignore, huh?” he winced wryly.

You smiled, the curve of your lips gentle in the dim light, “No. You didn’t.” The silence stretched again, but it was warmer now, filled with a quiet understanding. The sound of your footsteps echoed softly as you continued deeper into the cave.

Kix glanced at you again, his brow furrowed slightly, “I always wondered how the Jedi managed it,” he shrugged, “The whole no attachments thing. Doesn’t it get lonely?”

You stopped in your tracks, the question cutting deeper than you expected. “It does,” you admitted, "But we’re taught to suppress those feelings. To let them go, like we let go of everything else.” You waved your hand, the bitterness in your voice sharper than you intended, “But that’s- I don't know. I don’t think that's me."

Kix slowed, watching you with quiet intensity, “What do you mean?”

You sighed, your voice growing more determined, “The Jedi Code was written millenia ago, by people who couldn’t have imagined a galaxy at war like this. We’re supposed to be selfless, to put the needs of the galaxy before our own. But at what cost? Our happiness and humanity?”

Kix’s steps faltered, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing your arm lightly, "So, you don’t agree with the Code?”

You met his gaze, allowing your hand to grab his, intertwining your fingers around his as you continued to walk. Kix couldn't help but look down at your hand in his and smile. It felt natural.

“Not entirely. I think it’s too conservative and rigid. We’re not droids, Kix. We’re people. We love, we grieve, we feel. Denying that it doesn’t make us stronger. It just makes us hollow.”

Kix’s grasp on your hand tightened, “Have you always felt that way?”

You hesitated, then nodded, “Honesty, for a long time. If it weren’t for the war, I probably would’ve left the Order already.”

Kix’s brow furrowed, “Left? You’d give up being a Jedi?”

You gave a small, wistful smile, "Oh I enjoyed my time at the Temple, mastering the force, being knighted. I love what it’s taught me. But I also want more. I want a life and home and people to come back to and to laugh with them without guilt. But to love without rules, that would be nice for once.”

Kix’s voice was rough, almost disbelieving, “That sounds like something us clones can only dream of.”

You shrugged lightly, a trace of sadness in your smile, “Maybe one day, when this war is over I’ll find that. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. Perhaps you can too."

Kix’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he reached up, his hand brushing your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along your jaw. His touch was light, almost reverent, as though he were memorizing the feel of you beneath his hand, “I’d like that,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, "To find something like that." He hesitated briefly, "but something about the idea of doing it all with you makes it somehow seem even dreamier."

Your heart stumbled, the quiet confession sinking into you like a warm tide. For a moment, the war, the cave and the danger lurking outside all faded, leaving only the fragile thread of possibility stretching between you.

You leaned into his touch, your breath catching as his fingers tangled gently in your hair, "You mean that?”

His smile was faint, but it reached his eyes, crinkling the corners with quiet sincerity, “I wouldn't lie to you. I’ve been so focused on patching up the others and keeping everyone else going that I never thought I could want something for myself. But after Saleucami and meeting Cut and his family, knew I wanted more than just surviving day to day. I want to live.”

A shiver ran down your spine, not from cold but from the weight of his words. You leaned forward, your forehead brushing his as you whispered, “I get that." For a long moment, you stood there, your bodies close, the warmth of him steady against your cheek.

Eventually, Kix drew back slightly, his expression soft but determined, “As you said before, we should keep moving,” he teased, though his voice was tinged with reluctance.

You nodded, your fingers still grasping onto his. As you walked side by side, your shoulders occasionally brushing, the air between you felt lighter.

The air felt a little less heavy now, though the shadows still pressed close as you and Kix moved deeper into the cave system.

There was a shift between you, something that hadn’t been there before. Some sort of openness perhaps. The fragile confessions, the quiet touches, the slow realization that whatever had bloomed between you in these dark tunnels wasn’t going to be left behind.

You glanced sideways at him, taking in the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth despite the exhaustion in his eyes. His gaze met yours briefly, and something unspoken passed between you.

After a while, the tunnel narrowed again, forcing you both to slow. Ahead, there was a faint draft of cool air, and you realized with a start that this might actually be an exit. Not a clear, wide path back into daylight, but a crack in the rock wide enough to let air flow through.

You paused, hand braced against the wall, and looked back at Kix. He was breathing hard, but determination was written in every line of his face.

“We’re almost there,” you nodded into the breeze.

His smile was soft but wry, “I think you've  been saying that for the last hour.”

You gave a quiet laugh, shaking your head, “This time I mean it. Feel that breeze?”

Kix nodded, his expression clearing just a little, “Yep. It smells like fresh air.”

You both stood there for a moment, shoulders brushing, letting the cool air wash over you. Then Kix took a shaky breath and pushed off the wall, “Well,” he said, his voice low and rough, “guess it’s time to stop being the medic and start being something else.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Something else?”

He gave you a playful smile, "I mean we came into this mess as a Jedi and a clone medic, right? I think we’re leaving as something more.” The words were light, almost teasing, but you heard the truth in them, and it sent a quiet warmth spreading through your chest.

You stepped closer, brushing your knuckles lightly against his, “Together,” you winked.

Kix smiled, and for a moment, you both just stood there, the air from the crack in the wall stirring faintly around you. The cave was still a cage, but it no longer felt like a prison. It felt like a threshold. “I was worried,” Kix said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “That when we got out of here, you’d just go back to being a Jedi and I'd just go back to being the battalion medic and we would just pretend this never happened.”

You shook your head, firm, “This isn’t something I can pretend didn’t happen. It’s not just some," you paused before giving a half laugh, "I don't know, cave moment.”

Kix’s lips twitched, “Cave moment?”

You sharply exhaled from your nose, “You know what I mean.”

His smile grew, a soft warmth in his eyes, “Over analyzing everything you say is one of my new duties now, is it not?"

You let out sigh of content, your fingers brushing his cheek, tracing the faint stubble there, “I won't leave us behind down here."

He leaned into your touch, his breath warm against your palm, “Good,” he retorted, “because the guys are going to give me hell when we get back.”

You snorted softly, "Oh?”

Kix’s grin turned playful, though there was a faint flush at his ears, “Oh, yeah. They’ll say something like, 'You finally did it!’”

You laughed, the sound echoing softly against the cave walls, “They’ve been waiting for this?”

He shrugged, his expression mock-innocent, “Maybe. I might’ve let a few things slip. It's hard not to when you’re stuck in a ship with the same squad."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade, “Great. So, we’re the gossip of the 501st.”

Kix’s arm tightened around your shoulders, “Well, if we’re going to be the gossip, we might as well make it worth their while.

You laughed again, the sound lighter than it had been in hours. Then, more softly, you continued, “We need to get out of here.”

Kix raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said we were almost there.”

You gave him a crooked smile, “We are. But I mean we need to get out of here. Out of the cave and whatever bubble we had up around each other. We’ve got lost time to make up for.”

His expression softened, and he leaned in, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. His voice was low, steady, "We will. One step at a time. But let’s start with getting out of this cave, yeah?”

You nodded, your breath catching slightly at the quiet promise in his voice. Together, you turned toward the narrow opening, your hands brushing as you prepared to squeeze through.

The light beyond wasn’t full daylight, instead just a faint shimmer of something brighter than the dark. But it was enough to tell you that there was a way forward.

As you and Kix moved toward it, shoulder to shoulder, you realized something.

You weren’t just walking out of a cave, you were stepping into something new together.

tags:

@trixie2023 @clon3wh0r3 @melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @marvel-starwars-nerd @simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @koskareevesismyqueen @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @persaloodles @soclonely @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 11

Chapter Summary: Din and yourself spend some time apart.

Series Rating: Explicit

warnings/tags: heavy angst, some self-deprecating speech (reader), cliffhanger, use of alcohol and being intoxicated, healthy but sad relationship talks, idiots in love, unreliable narration, moff gideon (peep the new header)

a/n: all mistakes are mine because I move too fast-- also thanks again to @immarocketman for letting me use some of their art for my header!! (reader finally knows what Mr. Djarin looks like). I still can 't believe how perfect if fits with the theme of my fic 🥹 and being lucky enough to use it <3)

Just one time it would be nice to wake up next to Din still asleep next to you. The ship is completely empty, not even R5 is here. It’s so quiet, eerily silent as you walk around, exploring rooms you’ve only ever looked at the door of. So many guns and other weapons you hadn’t ever seen before. You play with the darksaber for a while. 

You’re in the hull with more room to move around in. Okay. This is gonna be easy. You press the button with your left thumb and your whole left arm is propelled backwards but you hold on tight and force it back in front of you with a grunt. 

“Fuckin’ knock it off.” You growl at it, and for some reason, the propulsion lessens in the other direction and you’re able to wield it more easily. Not very easy, but easier. You left arm feels weird holding a saber. You don't normally hold anything in this hand unless your right one is helping. You do spin it around a couple times and take a couple slashes through the air with it though. It starts to fight you again like it did before. “Knock it the fuck off, my guy. ” You stare at it and instead of fighting you…it’s purring. “Oh…do you like that? You stupid swamp-rat?”

The handle of the grip starts to vibrate like it’s telling you yes. What the fuck? You turn it off and set it down on the floor. Nope. Not today. Maybe.

Okay, you pick it back up and turn it on and again, your left arm almost get ripped off. You just think about how much you hate the thing in your hand. It purrs again. “No fuckin’ way.” You whisper. “You really do gotta be mean to it.”  

With the lightsaber it was about respect and calmness. This was the opposite of a lightsaber so it’s about anger and chaos. It makes you laugh when your thoughts make the darksaber purr softly like it loves your bad thoughts and wants you to have more of them. You turn the saber off and put it back in the weapons room because you could have easily had more thoughts like that if you had held on to it. Kept working with it. It’s terrifying. 

Then a crazy idea comes to you. You run to the cockpit and press a button. 

With all the sun-shields down in the ship now, and no one can see in even if they try to, you look into your reflection in the helmet. You were told to wait but you don’t think you can. It’s too pretty, and you need to see what it’s like in there. You place it on top of your head as steadily as you can with one hand and then press it down slowly. It’s tight, you have to fight to get it down over your cheeks but once it’s on it fits like a glove. Din’s was way too big, you realize now. This is how a helmet should fit. You wish you could see yourself but it doesn’t matter. The heads-up display you’re looking into looks exactly like Din’s did. You can see fully almost completely around to the back of you. 

Din had explained how his helmet worked to you one night in the darkness of the ship. 

You press an unseen button on the left temple of the helmet and the HUD changes, “Infrared,” you whisper into the modulator. Hearing your own raspy voice through the static in your ears sends a shock through you. Now the display inside shows you an infrared picture of the inside of the ship. The only thing warm in the ship is where the engine is and that is only warm because it’s idling so the ship and you and Din and the child don’t freeze in the night. Din normally turns it off by now. You use your new helmet to go turn the engine off completely. 

Another tap of that hidden button and the screen goes black for a moment and then changes back to just the normal ship. You press the button on the dash now that shuts the engine of the ship off and sigh. 

You press the comms button and rasp his name but get no response. Shit.

Where is he? 

You have a much bigger problem right now.

You’re stuck in your helmet. You cannot lift it off your head with just one hand. It’s too tight. You start to panic, because what if Din comes back before you can figure out how to get it off? What if everyone sees and then The Armorer hates you? Ugh no this cannot be happening. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.” Your modulated whisper echoes quietly thorough the ship. You’ve been trying for ten minutes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You run around the ship in your helmet and nightgown like a fool. You look like a fool, such a fool. Why didn’t you just wait!? Din could have been here to see it and you could have had him help you get it off and now you’re going to get caught not following the rules. Being a brat. You could cry inside your helmet.

“Okay...” You’re panting. This is the last resort. Nothing else has worked. You have the heel of your left hand and the ball of your right foot inside the underside of the helmet and you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay. I can do this.” You rasp softly. You push as hard as you can and finally, the helmet slips off your head. You gasp as your hair falls into your face. “Okay. I can take it off.” Very satisfied with yourself. 

It’s dark again now. Dark as shit outside. You almost thought the sun visor was still down after you had put it back up. What the fuck!? Where was Din?! Where the hell was anyone? Not like you had gone to check. You hadn’t left the ship once today. Too sad. Too scared. You lay on the mat on the floor and sigh.

It’s been a thought pressing into your asshole all day. It’s painful and uncomfortable and you’d like it to go away but it persists. You can’t even speak it out into your brain, it's too painful. 

Does Din lie to you?

He clearly has no quarrels eating your candy. Or telling you that you are not maimed when he clearly thought you had been. There were more lies too. You could feel it. He lied about your doodles! He had already seen what was in your notebook when he asked what you were doing! Another lie! Where does it end? When do the lies end and the truth begins with Lyin’ Din Djarin. Would he be capable of lying about loving you? Is he capable of lying to you to touch you? Is that all you're here for? He loves you but apparently you’re just a friend.

Okay. A normal person might die for their friend right? If they cared for them deeply enough? Yes. You guess. Would a friend let their friend stick an Amban Stun Gun in both of their holes at the same time and then let the friend watch through their stupid night vision helmet? Hpmh.

You don’t think so.

Friends also don’t jerk off and come on their friends' bellies or fill them with their seed and tell them they want you to carry their helmeted babies! No! Friend’s don’t do that stuff. 

Fuck. 

So Din lies and now you don’t know if you trust him? Is that what’s happening in that broken, dumb brain? Yes. That’s exactly what’s happening.

You gasp in horror.

Did Din ever even come visit you in the temple like he said he did?

No one ever mentioned him coming to see you, or stopping by-- not Ahsoka or Luke. None of the younglings or other Jedi's!

The reasoning could be that Luke and Ahsoka were trying to keep you levelheaded with a clear mind and un-desiring heart.

Or it could be because that lying metal man never even came to see you like he said he did. How would you ever know without asking the Jedi's outright?

What The Armorer said yesterday in the cockpit rings in your head. Din Djarin hid you away.

That’s exactly what that lying sonofabitch did! Hid you away on the Crest, hid you away on some celibacy planet full of children and Jedi.

Din Djarin didnt' seem very reluctant to watch you walk into your new sexless home while he said goodbye to Grogu.

Old feelings of anger and new ones mix together inside of you. 

Nothing makes sense anymore...you’ve been alone too long. Alone with your thoughts for too long. Maybe. Or maybe this is good? Are you thinking clearly? You don’t know. You just know that one day you trusted Din with your whole life and now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you.

Perfect. Beautiful.

Ugh. Those words make you feel sick because are you beautiful? You’re definitely not perfect.

You roll over onto your left side and just lay there with your eyes open until you hear the ramp drop down. You’ve had hours to stew in your newfound anger. It’s very justified.

He lies to you and now you don’t know what about. He admitted it himself-- he lies.

Din meets you in the hallway. You point at him with your index finger. Din stops in his tracks and holds the baby out to you. You take a step forward and Din takes a step back. 

“Put the green child down.” You growl at Din.

He just shakes his helmet from side to side dramatically.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Din goes to put the child down, but then snaps back up and holds Grogu in his elbow crook. He shakes his head no at you again.

“I would like to yell at you. Really yell because I don’t think I ever have before. I’m not doing it in front of the baby, so put him down.” You speak more calmly than you thought you would. You thought you would be yelling already.

“I will never put this child down.” Din rasps through the modulator just as calmly.

You press two fingers into the bridge of your nose where there is a small cut and bruise. It hurts but you don’t care.

“You’re–” Din starts then stops suddenly, he tilts his helmet to the side. “Annoyed with me?” 

The words fling you back into the past somehow, just like you flung through the air before you slammed into the rock in that bug-robots room and broke your back; it’s feeling much better now though. You’re sitting around the small fire, looking up at Din and you had no idea what was in store for you yet. He had just asked you the same question, if you were annoyed with him. Your response then was much more pleasant than what you say to him in the present. 

“Annoyed doesn’t even begin to cover it, you lying sonofabitch!" You point at him again. “Full of lies. I wanna know what else you lie to me about, but you know what?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He shakes his helmet no slowly- almost like he doesn't want to answer you at all.

“I wouldn’t believe you!” Your brain doesn’t feel as foggy or as heavy as it did the other day, but oh man, you are just pissed off and you know why.

A real anger...with roots to it. You genuinely didn’t think Din could or would lie to you. You don’t know why. He was just a good honest man until he admitted he lied.

Told you to lie about the scars on your face. Like you’d lower yourself to his lying standards.

“I don’t lie?” Din sounds confused about where this is coming from. “Are you mad about the orange candies?”

You nod slowly and squint your eyes at him.

“I got you more. I was just on Nevarro.” Din pulls a bag from behind his back. Bigger than the first bag you got.

Sonofabitch. Why? You were just so mad at him, a good mad, a real mad and now he does this? You almost tell him to stop being cute but then you remember that you are mad! And not just about the orange treats.

“It’s not about the candies!” You exclaim.

Din tilts his head again. “You just said that it was about the candies.” He holds the bag out to you like you didn’t just watch him pull a giant sack of neon candy from behind his back. Like he’s a magician who performs at the casino when he’s done with his comedy sets! 

“You lied about my face!” You flick your eyebrows up at him once and point to your mechnosutures.

Din’s head rolls backward and he stares at the ceiling. “Did you want me to say it looked bad? It did. It looked bad. Are you happy? Did that feel nice?” His helmet snaps to you as you take several angry steps towards him.

He takes several steps back but bumps into the table behind him. 

“What else do you lie about, Djarin?” 

Din’s helmet is staring down at you. He has the child in one hand and the bag of candy in the other. 

“I don’t lie.” He sighs listlessly. “Why are you so upset? I thought our—” He looks down at the child in his arms and leans into you. “- talk last night made everything alright?”

“Oh, all the things you said to get me into bed and then also—” You glance at the child and then back to the helmet, “- get you in someplace else!? How very convenient that you had all those nice things to say suddenly. You couldn’t speak them to me before I was upset with you.” You cross your one good arm over your chest and take a step away and look down at the candy. 

Din finally puts the child down now and sets the candy on the table behind him.  “You think I lie? To you?” His helmet cocks to the side. “I don’t lie to you. Tease maybe. Poke fun at sometimes. I don’t lie to you.” 

“You admitted you did. You said it last night yourself. And then I wake up this morning and you’re not here. You didn’t even wake me to say goodbye or tell me where you were going.” You uncross your one arm and Din puts one gloved hand over his pressure point in his shoulder. “I don’t know why I feel these things. I don’t like being left behind. Makes my mind wander. It’s terrible.” 

Din rasps through the modulator, “It’s because you are a brat.”

You stare up at him, blinking.

“If you had left the ship and talked to my clan, been social with them at all, they would have told you where I went. They said you stayed here all day.”

"Well I--" You don't have a good reason for not going outside of the ship all day. Other than feeling sorry for yourself that Din had abandoned you once again. There isn't an excuse why you couldn't have gone to ask the Armorer or anyone else for that matter.

"A perfect opportunity for you to socialize-- potentially accrue friendships that are apparently so important to you, and I am the villain once again?" He sounds irritated with you more than anything now. He walks around you, leaving you to think about his kind gesture alone. "Brat," he mumbles under his breath through the voice modulator as he passes by.

You stay in your spot looking at the candies on the table and getting new scratches on your legs from Grogu who is trying to crawl up them with the razors on the ends of his fingers.

Are you still upset? Do you believe him?

You pick up Grogu and give him a small kiss on the forehead before you put him to bed in his little closet room.

The metal man does nice things, but he does them in such a strange way that it's hard to recognize them for what they are.

Din is on the floor in just his helmet and the blankets. He gasps in mock surprise, “The brat is here to sleep next to the liar?”

The words hurt, but you don't have anything to say because you do feel slightly foolish. All you had wanted to do was meet new people when you first started this gig. Din Djarin gave you a chance to do just that, and you stayed locked inside the ship all day.

“You tried on your helmet?” Din nods to it sitting on your bed.

You nod silently, wondering if he's going to be upset about that, too.

“Did you like it?” He asks apathetically, like he would rather talk about anything else.

“It got stuck. I had to use my foot to get it off.” You hold your right foot out in front of you and point to it with your left hand. “I was stuck for several minutes.” You don’t know why you’re telling him that. You had planned on never telling a single soul you got stuck in that thing.

Din chuckles, "I would have paid good credits to see that."

“Now you’re upset with me?” You ask, taking a step towards him. He shrugs.

Din turns his head to look at you. “I have every right to be upset with you if I want to be," he rasps. T

his makes your stomach flutter. But in a bad way. The worst way. You don’t know if Din has ever been upset with you unless it was for dying for two long minutes in the mines. Shit.

“I come back from helping High Magistrate Karga on Nevarro with my clan. You call me a liar and a sonofabitch .” Din shakes his helmet at you disappointingly. 

Ouch that fucking hurts. Din’s right. You are a brat. 

“I accepted that tract of land on Nevarro for us.” Din brings his hands under his helmet and rests it on them while he looks out of the window. 

Us. 

“You and Grogu?” You sink to your knees now and sit a couple feet behind him.

Din shakes his head still refusing to look at you again. “Brat," he rasps pointedly. “Of course not. I come home to try and tell you the good news and I get accused of lying about loving you before my boots are inside.” Din doesn’t look at you still.

Your heart is shattering in your chest. 

“I’m sorry," you whisper softly. You feel like a fool, as foolish as you felt earlier with your helmet stuck on your head. 

“Of course you are," Din sighs.

What does that mean? Why did he say it like that?

"You had a right to be upset yesterday--but not today. I did kiss you goodbye. I did not want to wake you because you are broken and healing. Was that so wrong of me?” 

No it wasn't, it's actually very sweet and thoughtful of him. Very thoughtful. Fool. You’re a fool and now you think you may be sick, and possibly your heart will come out with the little food you’ve eaten today. You inch yourself closer to him slowly on the floor. Din tilts his helmet a little backwards so you can see his face visor. 

“Are you upset because I said I don’t want you to swear the Creed?” Din respires softly into the modulator. “I wasn’t forbidding it. You are a free person to do as they wish. But why do you want it?” Din is still looking back at you as you inch now closer to him so you are right beside his helmet. 

“So that we can be together.” You whisper.

Din’s helmet stares at you. “Are we not together right now?” Din sounds worried and now you’re confused. 

“I…mean we’re physically together… right here and now. Yes.” You look around the room and back to Din. 

“Why would you have to swear the Creed for us to be together?” Din sounds just as confused as you are.

You blink at him. 

“Do–” The words you say next scare you because you’re afraid it’s going to scare him. “Don’t you have to marry another Mandalorian?” You look away because you are too afraid to see his reaction. You’re sure that when you look back he’s going to be gone. Back in the cave with his clan telling everyone how you’re crazy. Surely. But when you look back Din is sitting up. Yep just like you thought, getting ready to leave. 

“No. Why would you think that?” Din rasps, turning his body towards you.

He is naked under those blankets and you just got a peek when he turned and now you’re not thinking about anything else. You’re just staring at that little trail of hair under his belly button and you can’t even hold back the smirk you have on your face because he is perfect. Actually perfect. Din snaps his fingers at you. It makes you jump and you look up into his helmet. 

“What?” You’re smiling at yourself in his visor and he’s just looking at you. What does he want? You were enjoying yourself. You never get to look. It’s always dark when he’s not in beskar. You’ve seen him very few times without it. “What?” You ask again because he doesn’t say anything. 

“Why would you think that?” He rasps, unentertained with you. You’re confused. What were you guys talking about?

“Think what?” You say before you actually think about it because really, all you want to do is touch him and you have to stop yourself. Your eyes flick back down to his stomach and his little trail of hair and then back up to his helmet and then back down. Din covers himself with the blankets. “Hey, why’d you go and do that?” You look up into his helmet. 

“ Why… would I only be able to marry another Mandalorian?” Din is still covering himself with the blankets when you remember what you were talking about. You still don’t have an answer because you don’t know why you thought that. It…just made sense? You’re staring at yourself in his helmet when he snaps at you again with his fingers. 

“Would you stop doing that!” You exclaim quietly. “I’m not a small animal. You can speak to me!” You tap your index finger on the floor of the ship one time and hold it there between the two of you. Din taps his finger in a similar fashion on the floor next to yours but more times and rapidly as he rasps through the modulator quickly and annoyed. 

“I have been speaking to you! You don’t speak back. Say something—stop staring at me, and I will stop snapping at you.” 

“I don’t know why I make these things up in my head! You not being able to lie. Then you only lying to me. Why must a mandalorian marry within a clan. I was convinced you slept in your beskar for Makers sake! I don’t know. I just do it!” You start tapping your finger on the floor of the ship quickly like him. “I don’t know! Stop snapping your fingers at me!” 

Din does it. He just snaps his ungloved fingers right in your face and as soon as he’s done he crosses his arms over his chest and covers his pressure points with his hands.

You gasp. How dare he snap and then block himself?!

“I’m learning,” Din rasps softly, nodding slowly. “You think you are the only one whose brain tells them false truths?” Din shakes his head at you. “The things I told myself you were doing at that temple without me—I’d come to see you and Ahsoka wouldn’t even let me inside. Luke wouldn’t even answer my questions about you. They just said you were fine. When I asked if you’d like to come with me they said no—”

You gasp louder than you have ever gasped before in your whole life. 

“They did what!?” you almost shout. “They never told me you asked for me. I would have said yes .” You look all around the floor around you, thinking of ways you can hurt Luke and Ahsoka. How could they do that to you? Make that choice for you. Now you not receiving a gift at the temple makes sense. He didn’t think you wanted to come back to him

“Yes, so you’re not the only one who has untrue thoughts in your head. Did I accuse you of being with another, or not caring for me after two years of waiting for you as soon as you got off that return ship? No! I did not!” Din is very annoyed with you. You’ve never heard him talk that fast. 

You are a dumb brat. A real idiot. 

“I figured out the darksaber while you were on Nevarro!” You snap at him because you are unwilling to accept that you are in fact a giant dumb idiot brat. Din called it. You feel stupid. You try to change the subject. It works. 

“You did? You wielded it well in the mines. You wielded it well here on the ship.” Din’s head turns to the window for a moment and then snaps back to you. “We can talk about that later. Admit that you are wrong. Apologize to me. Because what you do is wrong. Accuse me? You say you love me. Love me so much. Yet you can’t speak to me. Can’t ask me simple questions that would ease your beautiful bruised brain. You want to yell at me. You want to call me names. I call you my little one and I get called sonofabitch. So loving . I don’t get a nice name from you.” Din lays back down on his pillows and his raspy sigh breaks your heart. 

You are a hotheaded…stupid…ungrateful brat. You accept it in your heart now. You try to move closer to him but he pulls his arm away. 

“I am upset with you now.” Din rasps. Your heart no longer exists. You reach for him but he pulls away again.

“Can I fix this right now…or should I go…to the cockpit for a while?” You’re not really sure what you’re saying, but maybe he just needs a minute to cool down. 

“Go look at buttons for a while if that’s what you wish to do. I don’t care where you go. I’ll come to you when I’m no longer upset.” 

It’s a struggle to get to your feet. You have been hunched for so long. You finally do though. You grab a blanket off your bed and your helmet and hold the tears back until you get out into the hallway and shut the door. The crying you're doing has no sound. You can’t breathe. It’s not coming to you when you try. This is worse. This is the worst feeling in the whole world because Din had never cast you away like this. He leaves. He walks away. It feels like it takes twenty years to get to the cockpit. Once the door there is shut, you can gasp. All the air in the cockpit is now in your lungs and you think you’re going to explode. 

The button to close the sun shields feels like it fights back against you when you press it. They close and you’re plunged into darkness. The helmet goes on like last time, with a struggle. But then you sit in the co-pilot's chair in the dark. Looking at everything through your night vision. Din still hasn’t seen you in your helmet. He might never want to.

The door to the cockpit opening jolts you almost out of the chair you fell asleep crying in. Your helmet is still on when Din walks in, wearing his black undergarments and his helmet.  Everything is still in night vision and you don’t know what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. You know you cried for a long time. Din sit’s down in his chair silently after he shuts the door. He doesn’t even look at you. It feels like time has stopped. Somehow being able to see into the void makes the now soft constant static ticking in your ear less comforting. Din just stared forward like a droid. 

“Peli needs some help on Tatooine. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her out for a while and I think you should go.” Din’s rasp sounds just like it does when you have your helmet off.

You start thinking of arguments of why you should stay and why you need to be here with him. You want to tell him that you’ll share the floor bed on this ship with him forever if that’s what he wanted. 

“Okay.” You don’t say any of those things, because if Din doesn’t want you here, what’s the point of being here? Grogu loves you. You love Grogu but he is not your child. As much as you wish he was, he is Din’s child. Din’s alone. R5 is your child though, whether Din likes it or not. 

“Not for long, two weeks possibly.” Din still hasn’t looked in your direction, you haven’t stopped looking in his direction. Things feel so different right now. “I have things to attend to. I’ll leave this ship and take the N-1.” So he has to come back for you. He can’t just leave you there. “I’ll be taking Grogu though.” 

You just nod in response because you know he can see your helmet nodding at him in his display. Even if he’s not looking in your direction. You think about swearing the Creed. You could just stay here. Walk the Way. This doesn’t feel like the Way though. None of this feels noble or honorable or brave. 

“I’m sorry.” You rasp to him in the dark. He nods in response. Still not looking at you. “I shouldn’t have called you mean things.” You whisper into your modulator. You could keep this thing on forever. If Din never wanted to kiss you again? You’re never taking this helmet off. 

“I’ll drop you at Peli’s in a couple hours. You should rest before we get there. One shoulder or not she’ll put you to work.” Din rasps. You also like this helmet because Din can’t see your tears. 

“Have you rested?” You ask softly. He shakes his head from side to side. “Would you like to come rest with me? It can be quiet and dark.” Din does nothing for a long time and then he stands and opens the door to the cockpit and walks out. You follow him into the bedroom. 

Din has his hands on the side of your helmet and is pulling it off for you. He sets it on your bed you think, it’s dark again. Then you lay down on the mats below your feet and wait for him. When he crawls in next to you can feel that he took his black undershirt off. When he lays down onto your chest and you wrap your hand around his neck and twist his hair in your finger he sighs. It makes you sigh. 

You keep your promise and stay quiet until you hear him snoring softly. You can feel it in his chest when he breathes too. Just a deep rumble. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers taking in this feeling because you wont be with him for two weeks and then who knows if he will want you to be around after that. Bo-Katan has been around more than normal. Maybe she did all this to get in between you two because she was jealous. You don’t know. You don’t seem to know anything. You make up lies. You’re the liar. You lie to yourself. 

Din’s arm suddenly flinches softly and then he tightens it around your waist and pulls you closer into him. 

“I love you. Death cannot part us. Mine forever.” You whisper it down into his ears and hope your words are delivered to him like gifts wrapped in bows as he dreams. If he dreams. Tired Din. Working so hard all the time. Barely rested. Cares for you deeply. Loves you. 

The night passes you and sleep avoids your eyes. Passes them right by and you just lay with your eyes open in the dark. You touched Din all night long. Across his strong, muscular back and you twirled his hair in your fingers until he stirred against your chest. It stays quiet in the ship as his breathing goes from soft rumbly snoring to his regular, soft breaths of air. His hair stays in your fingers until he’s pulling himself away from you. 

“I need you to show me how to use the darksaber.” Din whispers into the dark. You could cry again. No kiss or any sign of affection that he still meant those words he spoke to you so gently the other night. 

“Okay.” It takes everything in you to keep it together while you get dressed in real clothes. You put your boots on. You put your helmet on because you're ashamed of your selfish face and don’t want Din to see your selfish eyes. 

You grab the darksaber and your lightsaber from the weapons room and meet him in the hull. Din watches as you set both handles on the ground in front of him. 

“This one,” You point to the lightsaber with your foot. “You need to be able to control your mind. Have peace and serenity in your heart and mind. You don’t think when you hold the saber. It’s almost like the saber thinks for you. Leads you to what your heart really wants almost. It’s helping you during your fight.” You rasp. You pick it up in your left hand and let the plasma extend. “You love it. You care for your saber like it was an extension of your own arm.” You hold it out in front of you as it hums quietly. Din nods. You sheathe the plasma and clip the lightsaber to your waistband. 

The darksaber feels like one hundred of your lightsabers. 

“You don’t need any of that when it comes to this though.” You respire as you hold the handle of the darksaber out to him. He takes it within his gloved hand and grasps it gently. “You hate to hate it.” Din’s helmet snaps up to yours. Your helmet nods at him. “Turn it on and let all the bad inside of you flow through it. It feels and propels itself against your positivity. Away from your serenity.” Din looks back down at the saber and you take several large steps back as he presses the button. You can see him fighting back against it. 

“Fuck.” Din rasps as he has to wrap his left hand around the grip now, forcing it forward with his body weight. “Shit.” You see his hands slipping from the handle. 

“Din, be mad at it. Think about all the terrible things you could do with it.” You hold your hands at your side. It’s like he didn’t listen to a single word you said. The lightsaber on your belt feels cool in your hands as you unsheathe the plasma again. “C’mon. Think about how terrible it is and lift it over your head. Bring it down onto mine.” You hold your lightsaber up sideways above your head so you can block Din’s attempt to slice into the air. 

Din can’t lift the saber over his head. It’s fighting him too much. 

“Hard.” Din’s rasp is strained like he’s really fighting with it. 

“You’re not being angry enough. Let the saber feed off any anger inside you. The chaos, the bad. Let the saber take it from you.” You try to explain to Din over the buzzing of the sabers in your hands. Din hesitates for a second and then you watch as he brings the darksaber over his head and brings it down onto your plasma blade hard. It vibrates in your hand when he connects. 

You’re full of excitement for Din. It’s short lived as he retracts the white plasma back into the handle and clips it to his belt. 

“Thank you. Good job.” And then he leaves you in the hull and walks to the cockpit. 

Okay. This is terrible. The actual worst feeling in the whole world. 

“Good morning.” Grogu looks up at you through the crack in the door and presses himself into the wall. The helmet must be scaring him. “It’s just me. I just have a helmet on like your Dad.” You open the door completely but Grogu doesn’t move. “Do you not like it?” You show off your helmet to him and he shakes his head. “Why? Is it frightening to you?” The child nods as you bend at the knees to his level. “Don’t be frightened, young foundling. It’s just I. Your caretaker. Your bratty helmeted babysitter.” You whisper down to him through the modulator. 

Grogu hesitantly peels himself away from the wall and takes a step towards you. You extend your arm to him and he scrambles up it and to your shoulder where he inspects his own reflection in the side of your helmet. 

“A very handsome boy.” You rasp to him as you watch him look at himself. “Hey, listen to me.” You pull him down off your shoulder and hold him in the crook of your elbow as you make your way into your bedroom. You set the child down on the metal bedframe you no longer use. You sit down on the ground in front of him. “I have to go help Peli for a while.” Grogu gets so excited but you have to put your hand on one of his shoulders and calm him. “Just me. You’ll stay with your Dad while I’m gone.” Grogu looks up at you with big eyes and it makes your eyes water from behind your HUD. 

Grogu babbles sadly. 

“I know.” You try to hold back a sob. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too.” The tears well in your eyes and your nose burns for a moment while you hold it back. “A lot. I will. I’ll miss you but our friend Peli needs my help and I’m the only one who can do it.” You shrug your shoulders and say the words fast so you can get them out before you have to hold back a sob in front of the child. 

Grogu warbles sound downcast. 

“No, I’m not still mad about the scratches.” More fast spat out words because you’re crying behind the helmet but you don’t want to sound like you're crying. You tilt your helmet to the side when you look down at him now. “I love you very much. I always will. But I need to go for a while. And you ne–need to learn h-how to become a-a-a M-Mandalorian.” You stammer into the modulator. This is hard. “I love you.” You lean down and press the forehead of your helmet to his tiny little green head and sigh. “My good boy.” You whisper into the modulator. 

“What good is she to me with one shoulder and a helmet?” Peli looks at you, and you look back at her through the HUD. “Is she the same one who was here last time?” She leans down and looks at her reflection in the shiny beskar. “What’d ya do to her in the mines of Mand’alor? She mess that face up real bad? It’s ugly under there now? Shame. She was cute.” 

“She has a couple scratches.” Din rasps flatly. “She works hard. Is strong despite the shoulder.” Peli looks you up and down and you watch her through the display. “It’ll be good for her.” 

This makes you roll your eyes under the helmet. He’s not wrong though it’ll be good for your ungrateful ass and maybe you’ll actually learn something this time. What is the most frustrating about all of this is that Din is right. If you had just calmly sat down at the table after greeting him from being gone all day and thanked him for the candy and taken the child from him; you could have talked to him nicely and told him how you felt and he would have comforted you and made you feel reassured.

No. You went in yelling at him with your finger pointed. Calling him a sonofabitch for things you didn’t even know were true. Hurtful accusations that he manipulated you into allowing him to touch you when it was something you had been drawing in your notebook! For several days leading up to the first incident in the Crest! Din’s request was strange but it eventually gave you what you had been wanting so badly. Did it not!? To see the image of his lower stomach and the base of him! He does have a curly patch of dark pubic hair that rents space there! You had forgotten because you never saw that notebook again. 

“Alright. She’s gonna get put to work.” Peli gives you a big missing-one-tooth smile and you nod your head once at her slowly because you can’t smile back. She turns to Din now and sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. I’ll give you twenty percent off since she’s workin’ for free. Only ‘cause I gotta go find the part you need for that big honkin’ ship anyway.” 

Wait. Did Din just…trade your services here at Peli’s for discounted work on the ship? Sure seems like it. Who cares, maybe she can teach you something. 

“Two weeks seems like more than twenty percent.” Din rasps make you turn your helmet at him. Now he’s bargaining. Peli points an index finger and then looks at you; she looks back to Din and points her finger at his helmet.

“Fine. Forty but only ‘cause I like the kid.” Peli cradles him in her elbow. “You sure he can’t stay? I’ll throw in an extra ten percent if ya let him.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down quickly at Din but frowns and rocks back on the heels of her foot when Din shakes his helmet from side to side.

“Kids gotta come with me this time.” Din rasps holding one gloved hand out to him. Grogu turns away from him and into Peli’s chest. Din tilts his head to the side because Grogu never does that. The child always goes to Dad Djarin. You gasp quietly enough but it registers in the modulator. Din’s helmet snaps at you and then back to the child. “Grogu, come on. We have to go.” 

Grogu shakes his head from side to side. He said no. You gasp again softly and take a step back in shock. Din’s helmet stays on Grogu but he points back at you with his free hands. 

“Stop making that sound.” Then he holds the hand that had been pointing behind him at you up to Grogu. “Okay, our visit with Peli is over. We need to go.” Din’s not messing around. Grogu pulls his ears into his head tightly and chomps with his little teeth at Din’s gloved hand. 

You make a very audible gasp. Your hand goes to your chest again, in shock, and Peli laughs loudly while Din’s hands fall to his sides. 

“See! Even he wants to stay with Peli!” She laughs again and holds the frowning child out to Din. Grogu is really frowning. His little ears are stiff against his head and his eyebrows are furrowed as Din takes him from Peli. As soon as the child is in Din’s hands he looks back at you, reaching for you with his little arms and now his eyes are sad and his ears are much less stiff. He’s whimpering. “Ohhh. He wants his mommy! Give ‘em to her, Mando! It’s sad!” Peli exclaims, pointing between you and the child now. 

Din turns and holds the child out to you. Grogu doesn’t wait for either of you to be close enough to exchange him, Grogu flings himself to you and wraps himself around your neck as tightly as he can with your helmet now. It knocks you back a couple of stumbled steps but you regain your balance. 

“Oh, it’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” You hold your one good hand up to his back to hold him to you even though you don’t need to, his grip is tight. “You have to go learn things with your dad. I’m going to miss you too.” You pat his back a couple of times. Grogu babbles quietly. He sounds different in your helmet. Raspier. Like Din. Everything rasps. Including you now too. “Shhhh. It’s gonna be alright.” You turn your back and start to walk back towards the ship. 

Din’s close behind you. 

Once inside the not-so-new ship– an X4 Gunship you just learned the name of it three minutes ago when Peli told you–Din never bothered to tell you but you had also never bothered to ask– Grogu would not let go of you. Din had his hand on his little waist and Grogu had his grip dug into your shoulders now. 

“Oohh my May-ker— stop pullin’ him! He’s got his lil’ razors in me again—Grogu! Knock it off!” Your knees buckle at the white hot pain searing into your flesh. “Grogu! Release! Drop it! Let me go!” You plead raspily with the child but he holds tight, whining and whimpering loudly. 

“Grogu. This is not funny.” Din’s modulated voice sounds serious. “I mean it. Let go of the blasted woman! Get your claws out of her!” Din’s not messing around. Grogu does not care. “I’m going to lift and you drop at the same time.” Din’s helmet peers around the side of Grogu’s head. You nod in confirmation because you cannot speak. 

Din lifts the child from off your chest and shoulders and at the same time, you bend your knees and drop to the floor and finally—relief of some sort as his lil’ fuckin’ knives come— get ripped out of your flesh. 

“You are a crikking little snot!” You exclaim from the floor. “You maim my face! You use me as a pin cushion! I am just a girl, Grogu! I feel pain! Just like you do! Oh my Maker! ” You bring one hand to your bad shoulder and sigh. It had just started to not ache dully all the time and he does this!

“I know you are going to miss her. We will only be gone for two or three weeks.” Din rasps. You have to fight everything inside of you telling to question him about this new, extra week he just mentioned for the first time. 

“I will miss you too.” You stand from the floor and pet his ears softly. “Don’t scratch or impale me anymore. I do not like it.” You scold him softly. “I love you dearly. Please be careful.” You press your helmeted forehead to his little green one. “Behave.” You rasp quietly. “Learn to Walk the Way.” You sigh into the modulator. 

“I will be back for you soon. There are just–” Din starts to rasp but you snap your helmet up at him. 

“Things to attend to. I understand.” You wish he would just leave if he’s going to leave you here for a month. “Time away will be good for me.” You lie. You lie to Din Djarin. But you wonder to yourself if it is in fact a lie. Will time with these new thoughts and feelings all alone be good for you? It’s all unknown now. R5 bleeps up at them sadly. You touch the top of his little domed head. 

“I’m glad you’re looking at it that way.” Din is short, turning his helmet to look at the wall now.

Nothing he has said makes you think that he actually wants to come back for you. 

“I’ll be thinking of you.” You rasp quietly, looking down at your feet. 

“And I you. I must go. I’ll send a call if I have time.” Din presses his helmet to yours very gently and very quickly before turning to enter the door that leads to the hangar. 

You waste no time going to Peli and asking what she needs help with. R5 follows you as she leads you to a giant room. Big. So big and so many shelves and a set of rolling stairs that go all the way to the top. 

“I need this—” She holds both her hands up and does a slow spin. “-cleaned and organized. My picker droids don’t do well on the stairs and the Jawas are too small.” 

You look around the room that is about the size of a cathedral. It has multiple shelves throughout and those shelves are covered with things! You don’t even know what most of those things are! 

“The picker droids and the Jawas will help with the organizing part. But you’ll need to clean, give everything a good wipe down. Make sure nothin’s too yucky .” Peli looks at you and nods. “You can be done when the sun goes down. You’ll start after we eat breakfast. I’ll feed you, I guess. But then you’re on your own. Don’t come knocking on my door looking for entertainment when it’s dark. I’ll be asleep.” 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me stay here.” Peli gives you a look of distaste. 

“Well Mando practically begged me, and he’s a friend so…Get to work!” She points at the shelves.

Begged. Begged Peli to let you stay. You don’t blame him, you had been a brat and were still healing so it’s not like you could be much used to him in whatever matters he has to attend to. Mando didn’t tell you. 

The rest of the evening is spent talking to R5. 

“Do you think this is too yucky?” You rasp to the droid; holding up a long cylindrical pipe covered in grease and rust and…hair or fur. The droid backs away, then bloops quickly in response. “Yeah, me too.” You say tossing it in a large bucket Peli had brought in. There are so many things. Old ship parts. New ship parts. Pieces of clothing. Helmets, shoulder pauldrons, shin guards of all kinds. There were podracer pieces! So many things. You organize it all into piles the best you can when Peli comes in and tells you that the work day is over. 

“Know of any good bars around here?” You ask, taking your helmet off for the first time with Peli’s help. 

“Didn’t think you guys could take these off.” She sighed, handing the helmet back to you after you fix your hair. 

“I’m not a Mandalorian. Just got the cool helmet.” You sigh at her and shrug your one good shoulder. 

“I see…” She looks you up and down, noticing the lightsaber on your hip. “Well…with that thing you could probably check out Mos Eisley. Not too far, you can walk. Just lil’ dangerous though. Be careful. I told Din I’d keep my eye out and you’re not going to blow me in for lying by gettin’ hurt more than you already are!” She exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the cantina. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender smiled at you so sweetly. Even though you probably looked like you could cry and fall off your stool and die. 

“Can I please have a whiskey?” You sigh and set your bag down in your lap. She nods and grabs a bottle from behind her. 

“I have this! It’s a really nice Tevraki whiskey. A great year.” She explains as you nod mindlessly. You don’t care where it’s from or how old it is or who its’ mother could be. You just want to ease the pain in your heart and this is the only way you know how. 

“That’ll be eight credits.” She holds her hand out to you. Picking through your bag for the right amount, you hand them to her but not before stumbling across a loose piece of paper. From your notebook. 

How long has this been in here? You don’t really go through your bag often any more. You don’t need it much. You don’t remember this being in here the last time you looked inside though. When you unfold the wrinkled and soft paper in your hands and see the doodle inside it brings tears to your eyes. It’s a little doodle of the child you had done so so long ago. You don’t doodle much anymore. Lost the need for it very quickly when you stopped being bored all the time. 

You press the old piece of paper to your chest and drink the entire small glass of whiskey in front of you in one big gulp. It burns going down, you almost choke but you force it back, down deep into your belly where it’s still burning you. Is that lava!? Real life hot lava you just drank?! Why do people drink that!? You’ve never had it before, it was just something that you had heard people around you at the casino order! It was ordered so often that you assumed it had to be good and look at you now, assuming more things and now almost throwing up in the cantina. Like a fool. Assuming. Have you learned nothing? Stick to your fruity drinks that glow in the dark or that delicious mandalorian wine. 

“Would you like another?” The bartender notices your empty glass and you nod, too afraid to tell her you did not want another and would like something that glowed. Or tasted like sweet candy. She was already pouring more brown liquid into your glass. You pay her and stare at the shot in front of you. 

Brown. Who wants to drink things that are brown and taste like they came out of the engine of the X4 Gunship! And burn. You hold it in your hand like it might bite you as you bring it to your lips. You drink it so fast and it still burns. The previous drink did absolutely nothing to prepare your body for this one like you had been hoping. 

This time you almost spit it out. You almost reject it—but you make yourself swallow it. You are not going to throw up in this cantina. You are a grown woman and you already are on the verge of a mental breakdown. That would completely send you over the edge. Embarrassing yourself in front of all these people who are looking at you—

Why was everyone in this cantina staring right at you? You do a little look around the room and almost every single set of eyes or one eye or multiple sets of eyes on one face were looking at you. Some of them looked at you in awe, like they could not believe that you were actually sitting in front of them. Some of these faces and eyes looked at you with unease…distaste maybe. You couldn’t tell there were so many eyes your own two eyes were flashing between. 

You wish you had your helmet but you would have had to take it off to drink anyway. The hood of your robe goes up over your face because maybe…they’re just not used to seeing a small dala alone in their bar. Unarmored. Looking broken and fragile. Most of these people in the cantina looked like smugglers! Where had Peli sent you off to?!

“Do you want another?” The bartender was already pouring brown liquid in your glass again before you could respond that yes you did want more in your glass and in your belly because once that nasty brown shit got down there…it was kinda nice. You felt warm all over. Every inch of you was…loose. It was nice to not feel tense and angry and upset. 

You’ve been trying so hard to not think about Din, it’s only day one. You have so many days left of trying not to think about him. And he leaves you with no answers, nothing to know if you should be waiting for him or packing your things to get off the ship when he returns. You don’t know. Again, nothing makes sense and this all just hurts your heart too much. The doodle of Grogu is still pressed tightly to your chest with your right hand as your left takes the drink. You hand the bartender more credits and now…you can go home. 

Back to X4, not home. Your home would be on Nevarro with Din and the two little ones hopefully. Not this forsaken ship! You kick it when you get back to it. You stand right alongside the landing gear and give it a good ole whack with your foot and now that hurts too. Why are you such a fool? You limp into the ship and R5 bleep bloops at you happily. You lay down right on the floor inside the ship's entrance once the ramp is shut. 

“Do you still care for me, tiny droid child?” You turn your head to the droid who is rolling himself into your leg, bleeping over and over again. “I don’t want to get up. I’d like to die here. Honestly.” The droid increases his beeping and his rolling into your leg repeatedly. “Oh stop it. I’m not actually going to. I’m being dramatic. I like being dramatic. I like to complain and bitch and be an asshole to someone I love, apparently.” You exclaim exasperatedly. 

 “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.  Kyr'am Kelir kis'wa mhi.  Pal'vut ratiin. I love you. Death will part us. Mine always.” Din’s voice rings throughout the ship and you sit up so quickly it makes you lightheaded. 

“Din?” You look around but then he speaks again but it’s coming from the same room as you. You look around and it’s coming from R5. “Are you doing that? How are you doing that? Din?” You speak into the droid's dome but Din just keeps repeating it over and over again. It’s a recording. “You recorded us!?” You gasp at the droid who stops playing the recording and starts beeping again wildly and rolling away from you.

It’s a struggle to get to your feet but you stumble after him shouting obscenities at him for recording you like that. You fall asleep on your bed with R5 next to you playing that recording for you as you touch the top of his little head. 

“Do you think he still cares for me in that way?” You whisper to the flashing buttons in the dark.

He doesn’t respond to you this time.

The cantina isn’t too bad. You like whiskey now after your two long weeks. Peli said you did good when you showed her that you had finished that giant room. Your shoulder still hurts but you took the sling off. Now you must wait for Din to return, however long that will be. You feel a gloved hand on your shoulder and your stomach flutters. 

“I was just thinkin–” The glove on your shoulder is not the one of Din Djarin. Who is this strange glove that’s holding your shoulder this way?

“Hello little-loth. Aren’t you just lovely? The stories I hear of you do not do you justice.” A very calm and astute sounding voice from behind you says. It’s unmodulated. You turn and see a tall man with a dark complexion a black mustache and short, almost shaved black hair smiling at you kindly. There are nine storm-troopers standing behind him in all black. You sigh loudly. “I’m Moff Gideon. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” 

“Moff Gideon?” You do not know this man. You’ve never even heard his name. You look back at the bartender but she is nowhere to be seen. It feels like it’s just the eleven of you here in this cantina. 

“Oh…Did Din Djarin not tell you about me?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a seat alongside you at the bar. “He didn’t tell you about how I captured the small green child you cared for so many years ago? Even if it was only for a couple hours.” Moff Gideon is smiling at you, like he knows a secret that you do not and he’s about to tell you. 

“I still care for the child.” You say, turning your nose up at him because who even was he? Obviously Din got the child back. So who cares? “Why are you here? What stories have you heard about me?” You’re curious, that's for sure. What could this man in black want with you? Why is he talking to you?

“Oh, I’ve heard many stories. That you have your own lightsaber made of beskar.” He raises his eyebrows once and smirks. “That is very impressive of a woman of your stature. Especially one without the Force. Or any previous militia training.” He nods his head at you like he really is impressed. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty.” Gideon raises one glove and very tenderly traces the back of three fingers across the scars where your mechnosutures used to be. “Scarred. Still beautiful though. Now I hear you have your own helmet. And that you’ve mastered the darksaber.”  

Panic. You’re not sure why but pure panic fills your body because the only person that knows that is Din you’re pretty sure. Unless he told people. How did Moff Gideon hear of this?

“Not mastered. I think I figured it out though.” You try to stay as calm as you can because if you panic you don’t know what this caped man in armor will do to you. 

“So you know about the anger?” Gideon asks curiously. You nod in response. “Think of what you could do if you hated your opponent.” Your eyes go wide when you do think about it because that has never crossed your mind. You had only thought about the hatred for the thing in your hand. If the lightsaber guided you towards the good things you fought for… what would the darksaber guide you to,with angry, hate filled thoughts of murder and massacre? “Have you ever killed anyone, beautiful little loth-cat? He whispers the last part to you. It makes you shiver.

“No.” You say because you honestly didn’t even kill the bug down in mines. Din did after you passed out. Why is he asking you these questions? What’s it to him?

“Would you like to? I hear you’re very skilled. I could use…what is it that Din Djarin calls you?” He looks to the ceiling and then to his stormtroopers like they would help him. “Oh. I remember now. Hired help.” 

“That was before.” You whisper softly. The words make you want to throw up but that’s exactly what you had been at one time. Help that he hired. And this was so many years ago. He’s just trying to anger you. 

“So what are you to The Mandalorian?” Moff Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Because right now…he’s in the stars with Bo-Katan Kryze. Flying in her ship. Potentially sleeping in her bed—alongside her .” 

You actually feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s been a nagging thought in your brain. He did take the N-1 but there is no place to sleep there. That’s no place to house a child. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, looking away from Gideon now. 

“I know what you could be…to me.” He sounds so pleased with himself. 

“Oh and what is that? More hired help?” You’re annoyed and wished he would go away. 

“You would definitely be helping me with something.”

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories @wandamaximoff4578 @probablyreadinsmut @katw474 @cowboy-like-m3 @gummy-dummy @cathynstuff

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

One thing I do like about TOTJ's take on Dooku's fall is that it really highlights that the Dark Side makes you absolutely masochistic. (Mega long post ahead).

One thing TOTJ establishes is that Qui-Gon's death is absolutely on Dooku (no matter if the show itself doesn't seem to be aware of it).

His tone is concerned and his attitude sympathetic and supportive, but he knows. He knows it's a Sith Lord (he even knows Maul's name). He knows Qui-Gon almost died and is marching right into another trap, but he asks questions anyway and affects ignorance.

"I've been warning them about the coming darkness for years," he says, "never to be taken seriously." Using the Council's skepticism as an occasion to complain about how they didn't believe him while lying by omission is a great case of that hypocrisy Dooku loves denouncing in others. Dooku would rather Qui-Gon share his disillusionment with the Jedi than actually do anything to help Qui-Gon. The Council don't believe him? Okay, Dooku, but YOU DO. You can just tell him what's going on.

But he doesn't.

On some level, Dooku has to be aware of what's about to happen. Qui-Gon is walking into grave danger, and Dooku's response to that - before it happens, when there is still time to stop it - is to put the blame on the people who don't know shit while not doing shit himself. (Why can't Dooku be there to protect Qui-Gon, other than because he's already slavishly loyal to Sidious' plans?)

And this moment puts every subsequent action of Dooku's throughout the Prequels in perspective - particularly his relationships with Obi-Wan, Ventress and Yoda.

Dooku is a glutton for punishment.

I've written here about why I think the 'Box' from TCW 4x17 is meant to parallel Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's mission on Naboo. The dioxis, ventilation shafts, the catwalks and lightsabers, the ray shields, the fire pit... Dooku's idea of a test to find the best mercenaries around is to have them survive what killed Qui-Gon (what he allowed to happen).

During the challenge, it's pretty obvious he starts to suspect Hardeen is Obi-Wan.

Or at the very least, he's taking an interest in the man who supposedly killed Qui-Gon's own apprentice - Dooku's spiritual grandson (see RotS novelization), whom he's been trying very hard to either recruit or kill himself. And what does he do with that interest? Tries to push "Hardeen" to kill Eval in anger.

Dooku, who still mourns the Padawan he knowingly let walk away to his death, watches a pantomime of his Padawan's death, while putting in mortal danger all he has left of said apprentice. If he knows Hardeen is Obi-Wan (and it's pretty obvious that he does), he tries to get Obi-Wan to Fall (or potentially die) in a scenario reenacting Qui-Gon's death. If he doesn't know for sure, then he's encouraging his all but grandson's killer to win the tournament because he admires him (for killing someone Dooku wanted by his side).

Whatever the outcome, Dooku chooses to relive his guilt and chooses to make the same choice to kill his loved one all over again, even though we know he hates that he made this choice:

He misses Qui-Gon and needs him but tries to kill or destroy Obi-Wan, whom he needs and wants by his side. (I haven't counted just how many time he does try killing Obi-Wan in TCW while still expressing his indefectible admiration for him - it's frequent, the Box just stands out to me as one of the most noteworthy occasions.)

And he keeps doing stuff like that!! He keeps choosing the path that causes him the most pain. He does it with Sifo-Dyas, he does it with Yaddle, he does it with Yoda and he does it with Ventress.

Just look at him confronting Sidious about Qui-Gon's death:

He KNOWS following Sidious got Qui-Gon murdered and he KNOWS Sidious will continue to kill or order him to kill people close to him. And yet he's quick to reassure Sidious that this doesn't change anything. Securing his position with Sidious matters more than his rage and grief. The ONLY WAY this behavior makes sense is if Dooku is fully aware that he had a choice about Qui-Gon's fate, and decides that this is the path he's on now: Sidious might make him kill everyone he cares about, but he's going to do it. Every time, things will play out the same.

Sidious tells him to kill Ventress, his new apprentice? Sure, why not!

(And it's not even out of true loyalty for Sidious, because he constantly tries to double-cross him later on. It's pure self-destruction:)

He hates it, Sidious promises him more of it, and he goes along with it!

This is why Yaddle's attempts at bringing him back don't work, in my opinion:

"Whatever lies he's told you, whatever you have done, you can make up for it now by bringing him to justice." This might convince a man who is looking for atonement, except Dooku isn't. He is looking for punishment.

Killing or harming those close to him leaves him broken, furious or in pain? He'll just keep doing it.

Sidious offers him nothing more than agonizing slavery? He'll keep on kneeling.

That's when Yaddle literally offers him the Light - the light that is so much more powerful than the Dark that it has Sidious cowering, the light that can save him if he wants - Dooku just strikes her down, even though he was heartbroken over thinking he had killed her just a moment ago.

He chooses to kill her, regrets it and hates himself for it, and chooses to kill her again. HE KEEPS MAKING THE CHOICE THAT HE KNOWS WILL HURT.

His remedy to guilt is to pick a shovel, because by God if he hasn't hit rock bottom yet he's going to dig!

[fellthemarvelous]

The Mystery of Chopper Base foreshadowed Ezra's exile.

Ezra's anxieties about Malachor brought him to Zeb. He was headed to a Sith temple with Kanan and Ahsoka, and it was with Zeb that Ezra was able to show his more vulnerable side.

He said it. "I don't know when we'll be back. Or if we'll be back."

And the thing is...the Ezra who came back from Malachor is not the same Ezra.

The new Ezra that came back was traumatized, angry, defeated, grieving, and he blamed himself for just how sideways their mission to Malachor went. This new Ezra started wielding a green lightsaber and came very close to falling to the dark side if Kanan had not been there to pull him back from the edge.

This Ezra came back jaded and vengeful and guilt-ridden after Maul blinded Kanan, and he and Kanan had been forced to leave Ahsoka behind with Vader while the Sith temple collapsed around them.

This Ezra came back with a Maul shaped shadow doing everything possible to make Ezra his new apprentice.

This Ezra survived against Darth Vader for a second time (because someone else was there to save him).

Ezra was already grieving the death of his parents when Malachor happened. Malachor hurt everyone in his family. He brought Kanan back to Hera physically injured and forever changed, and he wasn't able to bring Ahsoka back to Rex at all.

But despite the grief that everyone was experiencing, they persevered. Hera continued on with the mission and Rex spent just as much time pulling Ezra back towards the light as Kanan and Sabine did.

Hera and Kanan's final conversation before Malachor ended up becoming a reality. Kanan regained his vision and was able to look at Hera in his final seconds of life.

Ahsoka and Rex's final conversation was the very first scene in the Twilight of the Apprentice, and it was over Space Facetime. Rex was so nervous about Ahsoka going without him and she had to remind him that she was not alone. Rex is used to mourning his brothers. He's done it thousands of time. He's used to seeing his own face die over and over again. Losing Ahsoka would be different though. She wasn't a clone trooper, but she was still a soldier just like him. She was his best friend, his closest ally, someone he trusted with his life more times than he could care to count. They were each other's sword and shield.

Ezra understands these bonds. It's what his bond with Sabine was becoming.

And all of them (with the exception of Kanan because my boy sacrificed his life to save the people he loved, and Ahsoka because we don't even know when she is, let alone where she is at this point) followed Ezra into battle to take Lothal back from the Empire. They freed Lothal from the grip of Darth Sidious, but Ezra didn't get to see it happen. He was somehow surviving a long ass trip through hyperspace with space whales and a very pissed off Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He spends ten years in exile, alone, on another planet in a distant galaxy with a ship full of stranded Imperials nearby and always ready to kill him, but he still manages to find a new family, traveling with them and protecting them, grieving his loss and becoming more attuned to the Force.

The Ezra that Sabine finds is so much like the Ezra that she first met on Lothal. He doesn't seem to be carrying a heavy burden, but he knows he needs to get back home because Thrawn is a Big Problem, and he's had ten years learning how to outsmart the Imperials and the Nightmothers.

He's returning home with a lightsaber that matches Kanan's and he's about to meet Kanan's son Jacen for the first time.

The empire is toppled now but he and Zeb will have plenty of war stories to trade when they see each other again, especially as the threat of the Empire's return is rising again.

[dapurinthos]

hi 👉👈

will you tell me more about Jedi Temple conjugal rooms because I never thought about that and it's really fucking fascinating but just if you want/have more to say

lollll making me actually think about it instead of just as an off-the-cuff thought.

it makes sense that, if you have an entire organization of people who are all up in each other's business in an extra way, there's going to be some sort of separation so the empathic projections don't end up all over the place. master & apprentice has this bit from qui-gon:

and we know that imprints can be left in places or on objects from force-users, particularly if they're feeling very strongly about something at that moment.

from complete locations and into the dark, we know that there's a good chunk of temporary quarters for knights and padawans - temporary enough that they reassign them quickly, given that reath's only been away for maybe a couple weeks at the most. we've seen inside the quarters of barriss and ahsoka.

they're listed as accommodation cubicles, which puts me in mind of capsule hotels. they might be a mandatory quiet zone, given that the occupants are 'in transit or awaiting re-assignment'. they probably exist simply for resting in, and i think this can be seen in the difference between barriss's quarters and ahsoka's, with barriss living in more permanent quarters while ahsoka is in temporary ones, as she's more active outside of the temple during the clone wars. barriss's quarters are personalized, from the presence of the mirilian idol down to the rug. her walls are painted and decorated. the sizes look similar, but ahsoka's might be smaller, since the length of the room isn't indicated like barriss's. the furniture in her room is of a generic kind - the same futon-type bed, a low table, and what appears to be a meditation mat. they aren't living quarters because the entire temple is a 'living' area. there are no doors that can lead to bathrooms

the temple layout is very segregated: the quarter beneath the tower of first knowledge has pretty much all of the teaching areas; beneath the high council tower seems more of the technical aspects of the temple, with workshops, maintenance facilities, the lightsaber crafting facilities & practice gallery. the explorcorps has their own office building.

that's all to say: the halls of healing had shielding built into them, and if you look just at the gardens of the jedi temple there are so many different kinds, like specific meditation ones and kitchen ones and ones that probably have certain biomes, and there are all sorts of other dedicated areas, that there might be specific rooms for sex away from the accommodation sectors for those jedi with these individual sleeping quarters, where there might be better shielding built into the walls, or even thicker walls themselves, and places for at least two jedi to be alone together, given that an increase in number of jedi present increases the force-presence of an area.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

In Space

Masterlist

Pairing: Cal Kestis x (f)reader

Tags: Dark, inquisitor Cal, fear, eventual smut

You hadn’t had many run-ins with Jedi - certainly not since the execution of Order 66 - but you’d heard about the tragedy that swept the galaxy. When your home planet was raided by the Empire, led by the Inquisitor Kestis, you and all the other engineers across your planet were offered one choice: your lives, in exchange for your service aboard their warship.

"It’s a good thing we’re smart," your bunkmate muttered the first night.

You’d nodded.

People often confused "smart" with "useful." The only reason you knew how to fix and build was because you’d been doing it since you could walk. You had no choice as an orphan who was taken in by a mechanic for an extra pair of hands to help run his shop. In the galaxy, life had nothing to do with knowledge or ability, only with what you could provide those in power. Either way, your skills saved you. Though looking around the cramped quarters and sterile showers, "safety" didn’t feel like much of a luxury.

One day, while on your way to the hangar, a flicker of movement caught your eye. The hallways were filled with the usual noise of boots pounding against metal floors. Troops marched and staff rushed past each other on their way to stations.

Glancing to your right, you noticed a large glass wall separating the corridor from a training chamber. Inside, Inquisitor Kestis stood poised, saber in hand, ready to strike. Opposite him was another figure, perhaps another Inquisitor or Sith, holding a lightsaber of her own.

Gone was Kestis’s imposing black hood, traded for something more practical for training. His robes were fitted and sleek, dark fabric wrapping around his torso and leaving his arms bare and free to move. The material looked thick, expensive. Designed to protect him without hindering his agility. The kind of fabric that could likely withstand a blade or, at the very least, a brush with heat.

You glanced down at your own uniform, a jumpsuit that had clearly belonged to someone else before you. Stretched seams, covered with stains that never washed out, no matter how hard you tried. The material was thin, offering little protection if something sparked or went wrong at your station. You tried not to think about how envious you were of his armor, his privilege. While he could charge into battle, cloaked in armor that would shield him, you worked with the constant chance that a minor mistake could mean serious injury.

Kestis’s focus was deadly, his stance sharp, as he charged forward. The hum of lightsabers clashing vibrated through the glass, and you felt the intense heat even from your distance. Sparks flew. You winced as the woman’s saber cut a streak across his arm, leaving a burning red graze.

What a weapon, you thought, marveling at the display of power. Jedi weren’t the only ones capable of wielding lightsabers, but they were the only ones allowed. Surely, though, someone built them- engineers, technicians. What went into their construction? Perhaps a flint, or even gunpowder-

A hard nudge interrupted your thoughts, nearly causing you to drop your toolbox. A trooper barely glanced at you as he shoved past, his voice bored. "Quit gawking and get to your station."

You swallowed, casting a final glance at the training grounds, and turned away - only to nearly collide with a figure standing in your path. Yellow eyes, framed by freckles and red hair, met yours with an intensity that stopped you cold.

Your breath hitched, and you flinched, dropping your toolbox this time. You braced for the inevitable crash, but none came. Peeking down, you saw the box hovering inches above the ground. Your eyes widened when you realized you were witnessing the Force in use. Inquisitor Kestis’s open palm was extended toward it, his expression unbothered, like he barely had to try.

You’d heard that using the Force could exhaust the jedi, but Kestis stood there, not even breaking a sweat. His gaze shifted from the box to you, unreadable - a look that held pain, fear, and something even darker beneath it.

"Enjoying the view?" His voice dripped with a quiet menace, as though you were being interrogated. Yellow eyes locked onto you, a jarring contrast against the freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks - features that, in any other life, might have softened him. Those eyes, once rumored to be kind, now burned with a cold amber glow, radiating something far darker, something deadly. His gaze held you in place, dissecting every twitch, every flicker of unease.

You swallowed hard and shook your head, then realized that might seem offensive. "I mean - I just…"

"You were watching me train." His voice dropped, almost curious, as he raised the toolbox with the Force until it reached his hand. "Jealous of my clothes. Wondering if you could make one of these yourself?" He lifted the saber in his other hand, the metal glinting ominously.

You took an instinctive step back, eyes drawn to the unlit saber. How many people had lost their lives at the end of it?

Then, a chill ran down your spine. How did he know you were thinking about building one? Could he-

"Yes, I can," he said, a deadly serious look in his eyes. "Be careful what you think around me."

He held the toolbox out to you, his gaze steady. You forced yourself to take it, your fingers trembling slightly. "Th-thank you, sir."

"I’d get moving if I were you."

"Right. Long live the Empire." Your voice was barely a whisper.

"Long live the Empire," he echoed. You could have sworn his tone was mocking as he turned away.

The salute must have seemed a twisted joke from someone who once fought against the very regime he now served.

Your pulse quickened as you hurried down the corridor.

[frostbitebakery]

INTRODUCING: Quinlan Vos, Professional Bestie

two IGMHC vignettes

“I— had a friend,” Ben says. “Growing up. At least for a little while.” - Obi-Wan, chapter 2, IGMHC

HUMAN SACRIFICES ARE ONLY PASSÉ WITH THE WRONG ATTITUDE

Fox ignores him. “Cody, I’m this close to a murderous rampage.”

Vos brightens. “Cody! The one who’s fucking a Si—“

“That’s Marshal Commander Cody,” Cody says icily and even Fox needs to suppress a shiver. “Who the fuck are you.”

“How do you even know ,” Fox starts and recoils from the wink Vos throws him.

“Shadow, remember? It’s my job to know more than is strictly healthy for me.” Vos nods his chin to the comm. “ Marshal Commander Cody, tell Obes his childhood bestie would like a hello sometime.”

“You know him?” Fox whispers harshly - yells, but whose narrative is this, thanks - while Cody mutters an incredulous “ Obes ?”.

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TRUTH-INCINERATOR CAUGHT MAKING FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS, MORE AT 11

The past worn like a mask because of how Obi-Wan was is useful to how he now is. And, if the faint rumors are true, spoken so hushed within the confines of the council chambers only, the relicts have turned into goals again. To make what once was true again.

Quin’s head spins from the spirals Obi-Wan has contorted himself into.

“Is that so,” Obi-Wan comments quietly, watching him back. “My heart warms from your efforts. A cup wouldn’t go amiss either.”

Quin inclines his head. “Sorry, we’re not at the best buds level where I trust you with anything that can be used as a weapon.” The preparations for this meeting had been endless and frustrating. No weapons on either their persons so Obi-Wan couldn’t use Quin’s lightsaber against him. A Force suppression collar around Obi-Wan’s neck which doesn’t seem to bother him at all. Thick gloves on Quin, no sliver of skin bare for taking advantage of his psychometry. Master Windu had thoroughly gone over Quin’s shields with him. The Council had left nothing unprepared.

“You don’t fidget as much as when we were younger,” he says. He gotta start somewhere, silence has never been his forte, and suddenly it’s vitally important to understand the line that had been drawn somewhere and cut his best friend out of Quin’s life. “You used to always do something with your hands.” Obi-Wan had needed the stimulation. To concentrate, to expense restlessness, to focus away from anything and everything overwhelming.

Yellow eyes continue to look at him. There’s pity in them now. “It’s been beaten out of me.”

Quin grins, quick, regretful and unsurprised. He can imagine, colorfully, and his heart breaks a little more. “Your words have always known where to cut deepest and quickest.”

“Thank you.”

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