#jedi...neutral?

[fire-on-fuel]

part of the problem with the baby stealing discussion about the jedi order is that no matter what's canon and accurate and decided on most people's first impression of how jedi child acquisition happens besides (?) is qui-gon cheat gambling for a child slave and the reaction he gets being "come on man that kid is way too old you know how this works" and that does stick unfortunately

[bitchface24-7]

HELLO POOKIE WOOKIE SMOOKIE 💕💕

I love your Viktor x reader fics so much, like genuinely you write him so in character it has me giggling and kicking my feet. This is like a weirdly obscure req but it’s been clawing away at my brain

I saw one fanart of an arcane x starwars AU and I LOST MY FUCKING MIND. Hear me out, evil sith Viktor being manipulated by Silco is a plotline I didn’t know I needed in my life…

I’m so open to hear any of your thoughts or takes on him, just general headcannons or a full fic if you so desire. But I have an idea for Viktor x Jedi! Reader OR assassin! Reader

It could either be that reader is a hired gun for the sith that he specifically employed to be a rat for the rebellion. (What if their double crossing him behind his back and feeding him false information that soils his plans??? Or plotting a mutiny???? AUGH)

Also another idea is friends(lovers?) to enemies to lovers, maybe they knew eachother when they where foundlings and when Viktor went to the dark side they separated, do what you will with that plotline.

Either way I think having a very smart/clever morally grey reader would be such a delicious dynamic.

Sorry I wrote you a whole novel, anyways I love your writing peace out girly 🤞🤞🤞

YOUR FALLEN ANGEL - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: you and Viktor have been as thick as thieves for as long as you can remember, metaphorically and literally. After being saved from the slave trade on Tatooine from two Jedi masters who felt incredible amounts of midichlorians in both of your blood. They train you in the ways of the force. But Viktor has always been passionate, and that became his downfall.

warnings: general descriptions of violence, the darker side of the Jedi’s mentioned, manipulation, desperation, morally grey reader, I'm low-key ripping off episodes I-III in this, Grammarly as my beta ADDITION: tried my best at GN smut, y'all are virgins so… it’s vanilla, oral (m and reader receiving), talks of fantasies, unsafe sex, creampie

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I love Star Wars. I've loved this franchise ever since I was little, the last of the series (EP VII-IX) wasn't the best. They had good ideas but executed them poorly imo. Hopefully y'all like my little twist to it. Essentially I've stolen bits and pieces of Anakin x Padme for this to work.

Going from slaves to padawans was a massive shift in your life. You never thought you'd end up here, free.

Well, as free as can be as a Jedi in training. You remember reciting the code as a young child,

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

You can understand the code— to a certain extent. Humans are not meant to be emotionless, it's physically impossible. Unlike our droid friends, we are unable to turn off our emotions. They’re with us from the day we’re born, and they’ll be with us till the day we die.

Viktor has always pushed the boundaries. His master, Obi-Wan Kenobi tries his best to negate him; very rarely does he succeed. Your own master, Mace Windu isn’t the biggest fan of your oldest and closest friend. You ignore him. Same with the other members of the Jedi Order.

Too passionate is what everyone says. Every so often Master Yoda will take you off to the side and regale the Sith Code like a mantra in his odd speaking habits. As if he’s trying to convince you— warn you about something that’ll never happen.

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

Both creeds have their upsides and downsides. Their truths and incomprehensible impossibilities. But as the days go on, as you mature from Padawan to full fledge Jedi, you see a shift in Viktor.

It's so small it's barely even noticeable, but you know him better than you know yourself. And he's started changing ever since that slimy councillor has been around him.

Councillor Silco.

You're not a fan of any of the councillors, but Councillor Silco is the worst of the bunch. Full of lies and deceit. You can taste it whenever he gets too close. His predecessor Councillor Palpatine is even more horrendous.

You're not sure as to why Viktor can't.

It isn't until they've sunk their claws fully into Viktor do you see the truth.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're not sure what happened. One second your Master is fighting Councillor Silco, the next Viktor has taken you down, a nasty slash on your waist, your Master is dead, and Viktor is helping the man who killed him.

A crack forms in your heart at the betrayal. You want to scream, cry, and sob inconsolably at the pain you're feeling. But there's not just pain there, there is also anger.

Hatred.

You look up at the duo and grit your teeth, your jaw painfully clenched. That's when Councillor Silco desperately reaches for his neck as he sputters.

He's choking on nothing, and you're the cause of it.

After a moment, he's let go. You feel a bit of horrified justification at your actions. He’s killed your Master, manipulated your friend, and taken what you hold most dear.

You don't feel sorry.

And that’s what scares you.

Viktor looks shocked, his eyes wide as he stares at you. Councillor Silco is trying to catch his breath, but he looks immensely satisfied.

“Looks like there is still hope for you yet.”

And with that, the two men leave; and one of them takes your heart with him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You rush to Obi-Wan and Yoda to tell them what has transpired. The death of Mace, the betrayal and secret mole in Councillor Silco, and the manipulation Viktor has been put under.

The two men look warily at one another at the last point. Your frustration boils over at their secrecy.

“What?!” You question. Your tone is sharp, angry. The two Master’s look to you in shock. You've never raised your voice, not since you became a student here at the temple. Yet here you are, your emotions guiding your actions.

The way of the Sith.

Yoda hums and Obi-Wan placates you, “My dear, you must control yourself. We’ve already lost one bright soul— we’d be crushed to lose another.”

And in that moment it hits you. They’re not going to save Viktor— they’re not even going to try! He’s already deemed a lost cause, a failure to the order. Not to you. Never to you.

You two promised you’d escape Tatooine and live long, happy lives together. You’re already halfway there.

You just need to save Viktor from himself.

And kill the people responsible for corrupting him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, you resign from the Order. They’re shocked, expectedly so. You and Viktor were their strongest Padawan, now their strongest Jedi. They’ve lost one to the dark.

They lost the other to their negligence.

Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the rest of the Jedi Council try their best to dissuade you. None of them succeed.

You know that they will control your actions as long as you are within their walls. So you leave, and you leave behind your green lightsaber.

You feel as if you’ve outgrown this one. Another kyber crystal is calling for you, you can feel it.

With that, you leave the one place you felt like was yours. All in the name of love.

You truly are a horrible Jedi.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It takes weeks of excavation, but you eventually find the crystal that’s been singing your name, calling for you, and begging you for a chance.

It’s beautiful.

Even more beautiful than your previous crystal. You’ve collected all the required components to re-build your saber, now you just need to actually build the damn thing.

You place all the pieces down and mediate. Letting the force run through you like a calm river, you subconsciously feel your saber being made. When you open your eyes, you hold back a soft gasp.

It’s wonderful. A beautiful steel handle with fine markings and it’s perfectly balanced. You ignite the saber and try not to cry. It’s purple.

Just like your Master’s.

With your resolved hardened and new saber in hand, you continue on your self-imposed quest to save Viktor.

And save him you will.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was shockingly easy to find them. After months of tracking, tracing, and pulling every move of stealth you know, you've finally done it.

You asked around, used some mind-tricks on unwilling citizens, and interrogated others in a way that’d make the Jedi ashamed of you.

Good thing you’re no Jedi.

Viktor and Silco are in the councillors building, in Silco’s private room. You casually make your way there, your black cloak billowing ominously.

Before anything else can happen, you slam the door open with the force and ignite your lightsaber.

Someone is going to die today, and it isn’t you.

The two men look shocked at your arrival. Instead of dawning your usual white and beige outfit, a green saber in hand, you wear more dark colours. Black, brown, and hints of beige encapsulate your figure, a purple saber replacing your old one.

There’s an angry look in your eye that the two men only saw once, and it almost caused Silco’s death.

Seems like you’re back to finish the job.

Before you can swing at Silco, Viktor protects him. His yellow saber gone. In place is now a red one.

You want to cry. His old saber matched his eyes perfectly. You always mentioned it every time you two trained together. Now it’s gone. He’s changed just as much as you have.

The fight is intense, brutal in all honesty. The sweet face Viktor used to have is gone. Now it’s even more sharp, and his eyes have an orange— almost red tint to them. The pure gold now gone as well.

The eyes of a Sith.

You slash each other, block, dodge, kick, scream, taunt. A violent dance of passion and contempt, with hints of underlying tension.

Lust.

The Jedi Masters were always worried the two of you would pursue a relationship, even though those temptations were strictly forbidden.

But who doesn't crave forbidden fruit?

Now, you both are free of said rules. It's just you two, in a world unfamiliar to you.

Your lightsabers are clashed together. Purple sparking off of red, as you two sneer at one another.

Viktor's canines are sharp as he scowls at you. It reminds you of a fearsome feline. His eyes are narrowed and he pushes against you relentlessly.

You're no better. You can feel your lips pulled back against your teeth as you snarl deep in your chest. The muscles in your neck pulsing as you fight back against the man you love.

A small twirl disengages your clash and you slam Viktor into the wall with the force, pining him down.

You turn your attention to Silco, who's just been sitting there enjoying the two of you trashing his office. You take your free hand not holding your lightsaber and cup it in the air, imitating a choke hold.

Silco goes flying into the air and stills, choking in place viciously. You can hear Viktor yelling at you but it's muffled. All you see is the man who took your best friend from you, and you're getting your vengeance.

You squeeze harder and Silco slams into your waiting palm, a slightly scared look on his face. You look deep into his eyes and enter his mind without consent.

Flashes of memories assault you. Plans, manipulations, grooming, betrayal. One conversation piques your interest. The grandest plan Councillor Silco and Palpatine have.

They call it Order 66.

You feel like vomiting. You hold in all your disgust and revulsion as you pull away from Silco’s mind— ensuring you have all the information you need to prove both of the councillor's guilt.

A glare is all Silco gets before his neck snaps like a twig in your grasp. Viktor’s shout of shock returns you back to your senses, and you drop Silco's body like a rag doll.

Viktor is still pinned to the wall, but he's no longer fighting it. He sits still, stunned. His mouth is lightly agape as he looks at you, his eyes wide and dark. There's a bulge in his pants.

You quirk an eyebrow and Viktor looks away in shame. But he's still that defiant boy you grew up with, and quickly whips his head back to look at you.

“Why did you kill him?! The Jedi are horrible, I just wanted to protect you— why did you kill him?!” His voice gets louder with each sentence, his accent sharp and his tone desperate.

The force hold on him disappears and Viktor slumps against the wall, defeated. You sit next to him.

“Because he lied and manipulated you. He took you from me. The Jedi weren't going to help you, so I did it myself.”

Viktor looks shocked, the orangey-red tint slowly dissipating in his eyes, their original golden hue shining through, “You— what? You went against the Jedi?”

A scoff escapes you against your will, “I left the Jedi Order.”

“When?!”

“The day you left.”

The silence between you is deafening. Viktor looks shocked, a violent blush is seen across his cheekbones and ears. He swallows deeply before asking, “That... That was months ago! Why?!”

You shrug, “Because you left. The Jedi weren't going to help, and I've always known they weren't the best. Taking children away from their families when they're babies, indoctrinating them into the Order, their silly rules. The Sith aren't any better either.”

Viktor now looks curious, he gazes at you deeply and you feel like coughing. He's always been so… incredibly handsome. Now, with his full focus on you, you can't help but recognize that.

“So I've come up with my own code.”

The man next to you smiles, a chuckle leaving his throat, it’s one of the sexiest things you've ever heard, “Tell me? You always used to complain about the code when we were Padawans. I had to make you stop talking so many times before a Master heard you.”

You sigh contently and rest your head in Viktor’s shoulder, the black leather of his outfit cooling your heated cheek,

“There must be both dark and light. I will do what I must to keep the balance, as the balance is what holds all life. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. There is passion, yet peace; serenity, yet emotion; chaos, yet order. I am a wielder of the flame; a champion of balance. I am a guardian of life. I am a Gray Jedi.”

Viktor looks at you and huffs, “A Grey Jedi? Really?”

You snort at his tone and lightly hit his chest, “I came up with the concept like a week ago, leave me alone.” The two of you laugh before a peaceful, comfortable silence envelops you two. You enjoy it immensely before ruining it, “Why did you leave?”

The shoulder you're leaning on stiffens, and for a second you think Viktor isn't going to answer, but he does, “I already told you, I just wanted to protect you. I was getting horrible nightmares— Visions about your death. I couldn't handle it. Silco told me he knew a way to prevent it, and I accepted whole heartedly. Without thinking of the consequences.”

You hum, “It was a trick you know? Silco and Palpatine placed those images in your head using the force. They wanted a strong Sith Lord, powerful in the force, to mock the downfall of the Jedi Order.”

“The downfall—?”

“Palpatine put chips in the clone’s heads, with a special order called “Order 66”, it’s meant to overtake the clone's will and eradicate any Jedi in the clone's path. Doesn't matter if they're a Master, a Padawan, or a Youngling.”

Viktor’s sharp inhale is all you need to know. He didn't know.

“And— and there's proof?”

You nod, slowly getting up and going over to Silco’s desk, inputting the password, and taking all the necessary documents and voice pads.

“We’ll anonymously submit these findings to the Council and the Jedi Order. They can deal with all this shit. They can help the clones. I’m done.”

Viktor slowly gets up as well and walks over to you, “And, what will we be doing?”

You surge forward kissing Viktor passionately. The beautiful man gasps, and you use that to your advantage to add tongue to the kiss.

You may not have much physical experience, but you do have experience in reading dirty novels and touching yourself secretly.

The kiss eventually breaks and Viktor looks shocked and pleased, “We’re going to Naboo, and you're going to fuck me. I've always wanted to go there and I've always wanted you.”

VIktor chokes as you take his hand, step over Silco’s body, and exit the office.

He never expected this. But he’s not complaining.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There's an uproar at the Council and the Jedi Order. Palpatine is charged and executed for crimes against the Council and the Order. The Clones are healed and clear of any signs of the chip's potential betrayal.

The two of you don't know this though. You're too busy at Naboo, finally getting what you've always wanted.

Each other.

Your kisses are sloppy, passionate, and desperate. All of the emotions bottled up from your time at the Jedi Order overflowing and finally seeing the light of day.

Your garbs are removed quickly, the tunics, the pants, the tops, the boots. All that's left are your undergarments. You push Viktor onto the bed, and slowly crawl your way up towards him. His large bulge taunting you.

A small nod is all you get before your fingers hook into Viktor's undergarments and his cock springs free. Hard, leaking, and beautiful. Just like him.

You wrap your hand around the shaft and Viktor hisses in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. His face is flushed, his lips are plump and red, and his long hair is a mess. Pieces of brown and blond hair stick to his forehead, and fan across his shoulder wonderfully. God. You could stare at him all day.

"Y'know..." You start slyly, your hand slowly pumping up and down. You remove your hand and lightly spit into it before pumping him again, the slide much smoother this time, "I would fantasize about this."

The groan that escapes Viktor is animalistic. Needy. He bites his lower lip as his lower abdomen clenches in excitement, "Really? Oh do continue."

You hum sarcastically, "Yup. I'd sneak in dirty books from the market and read them late into the night. I'd picture I was the main character and that you were the love interest. I'd touch myself almost every night to the filthy words on the page. Imagining it was you and me."

The tip of Viktor's cock enters your mouth and his back bows at the intense feeling. Your confession, the warmth of your mouth, the glint in your eyes. Viktor isn't sure he can survive this.

His hands fly to grasp your hair desperately as he gasps in pleasure. Moans and whimpers escape him-- alongside chopped up variations of your name.

This goes on for several minutes before the pitch in Viktor's voice heightens, and he's trying to pull your lips off his cock, "I'm going to cum! Wait! Not yet! Not until you--" A low groan escapes him when you shove your head down to the base of his cock, his brown curls tickling your nose. He cums straight down your throat.

He whimpers as you slowly pull off his cock, a self satisfied smirk on your lips. Viktor just lays there, panting.

"You asshole. I wanted to cum with you. Now I can't."

You can't help but giggle at Viktor's petulant tone, you crawl up his body kissing a trail as you go before plopping a sweet kiss on his plump lips, "You still can. Don't tell me you won't get hard again fingering me open to stuff me full of your cock?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your crude language before laughing himself, "Wow. You truly weren't lying about those filthy books." You take your undergarments off and Viktor just looks in awe at you. You're so gorgeous, he's the luckiest man in the galaxy.

He takes his time with you. Sucking hickey's into your neck, abusing your chest, appreciating your abdomen and waist, squeezing your hips and ass. He eventually makes his way to your hole, and he licks it. You buck up in shock and gasp. The feeling electric. He continues to lick, exploring as much as he can. Your moans get breathier and breathier at the assault, until the pulls away.

"Give me the lube on the side table."

You follow his order without question. Viktor pops open the cap and puts some lube on his fingers, before going back to eating you out. He slowly puts a finger inside as he continues to lick at you. This feels amazing, it's better than all your dirty books and fantasies combined.

Eventually three fingers are pumping in and out of you as you whine for something bigger.

And something bigger you get.

He's stretching you, filling you up to the brim. Even with all the preparation, all the lube, it still wasn't enough. Then Viktor pumps his hips, and it's game over.

All you can do is moan as Viktor's massive cock hits all your sensitive spots. The two of you engage in a passionate kiss as you moan into each other's mouths. You rub your sensitive bundle in tune with Viktor's thrusts, and before you know it. You're cumming.

All his foreplay really paid off. All you can see are stars clouding your vision as you enter nirvana. Viktor continues to pump his hips, desperate for his second orgasm. In a few minutes, he get's his release, and cums deep inside you.

He plops down, laying on top of you as he pants in exertion. You run one hand through his long hair as the other trails random shapes on his back. His cock shrinks a bit, maybe an inch or two and it pops out of your hole, his creampie following suit.

The two of you lay in bliss. You never though you'd get here, the Jedi forbidding it and the Sith manipulating your lovers mind.

But you're here now, and that's all that matters. The two of yo share one final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You're in each others arms, stuck together like glue. As it should be.

As it will be until the end of time.

Before the two of you fully fall asleep, you both say the three words you’ve always wanted to hear from one another ever since you were young.

“I love you.”

Y'all I don't know what happened. I saw this request, blacked out, and this is the result. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, no you didn't and blame Grammarly. Idk if this is the vibe you're doing for dear requester bur tbus is what my mind came up with. Xoxo hope ya enjoyed it! ❤️

[astheforcewillsit]

I have this urge and want to interact so badly with the pro-jedi/jedi appreciation crowd because I respect the Jedi as a religion and spirituality, and something about their integral connection to the Force and how it influences everything they do--

From the way they speak, from the way they dress, to the way they interact with other--

speaks to me on a spiritual level. Like the Jedi are the light side of the Force personified, imo. If the Force has a face, I believe it would partly be the Jedi.

I love an organized religion (?) that's done correctly, that's not based on gendered oppression, that provided guilt-free healthcare and a path to follow, that operates as a family and a way of life.

like i could write about how they radiate Catholicism if done correctly till i'm blue in the face. And it's fine if you don't see the Christian parallels, but they exist and their a positive spin on what it could be.

That these people who would otherwise most likely be mistreated without the Order find each other. And raise reach other, and teach each other. They don't have biological children, but they believe it's their responsibility to train and raise children that aren't related to them, just like what was done for them. People like to say the Jedi "lost" everything when they left their families (left, not taken) but they gained so much more.

I want to interact with fans just to talk about this with, but i'm terrified of the "The Jedi did nothing wrong to the clone troopers" and I'm back to square one lol.

like is their a place to exist where I can love the jedi but acknowledge this was their one fuck up?

[tfa-archived]

Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron in Star Wars - Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

[oceansssblue]

From the stuck in a snowstorm Christmas prompt:

Can I get Rex X Male Reader where they get separated from Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan during a mission and are forced to hide in a cave till the storm ends please?

Male Reader is injured from saving Rex’s life from a droid attack and Rex is using all his willpower to not think about what would have happened if he lost him.

The angst buildup to confessing your feelings is the best type of word food.

Your wishes are my orders... Let's jump with the prompt number 9 (stuck in a snow storm) rn! 🫡

I write original ideas but I swear I like the classics and basics so much too... 🤪

Enjoy!

Xx, Blue. 💖

PS. For those who may be wanting to do a request, I'm leaving you the list of prompts at the end of this oneshot if you want to check it out. I also accept your own request ideas as long as it's xmasy.

"THE MOST IMPORTANT THING" – REX / MALE READER 💔💖

WARNINGS: fleeting mentions of wounds & blood. Thoughts about almost losing someone. Snow storm & freezing temperatures. Comfort & first kiss.

Rex can barely see what's five steps ahead of him. Even with the improved vision provided by his helmet, the blizzard makes everything blurry; a white picture of snow that would have been beautiful if it hadn't turned into a storm –and Rex needn't to make his way across it in order to get to safety–. His objective is to find cover in the mountains; but even if they appear to be close in distance, it's not an easy task to acomplish. He has to fight each step of the way; his lower legs sinking on the snow as he walks and making it incredibly tiring to advance forwards. He can't stop, though. You can't.

You're injured; arm drapped over his shoulders and finding strength in the Force to not let yourself drop unconscious. It's tempting; but you refuse to succumb to blood loss and fatigue. You refuse to be a dead weight for the captain to carry. You know he's worried enough as it is.

All four Jedis assigned to this mission had worn some sort of armour for the 501st, 212th, and 464th's batallions relief; but armour isn't undestructible, and it doesn't completely cover one's body. There's always vulnerable spots required for movility; and a droid had managed to get you on one of those. By pure luck, the captain is sure. Tinnies can't aim with that sniper-like precision. It's why so many of them are needed to make one clone's work.

Even with three battalions meshed together, the army sent by the Separatists had been massive. The fight had prolonged for over a week; and at one point, Rex had been surrounded by ten droids at once. Trying to command his men at the same time, making his orders known over the sound of blasterfire and explosions, he hadn't noticed a droid attacking him from his dead angle of vision; and it was then when you had jumped in to save him. When Rex had twisted around in surprise and had seen the frizzed cloth in the gap between your chest and abdomen plates he had almost pannicked; but you had shot him a calming –and pained– smile and assured him it was just a superficial wound before dodging another attack and pushing forward. Rex had had to force himself to concentrate throughout the rest of the battle. To not think on the implications of your acts; of what could have been.

But here, with none of his men at his sides and no trace of Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ashoka –they had all splitted into pairs in order to scout the city after the end of the battle when the snow storm had surprised them–, he has nothing to distract him from said thoughts.

You could have died. Jedi, for all of Anakin's recklesness, aren't inmortal; he could have lost you. Forever; a permanent absense and void in his heart no one would be able to cure. All those little things Rex always looks forward too —a cup of hot chocolate shared after a hard mission, the way your face lit up and innocently waved when you saw him across the hangar, all the little spontaneous trips you insisted for him to acompany you around Coruscant, if only using an excuse to show Rex what life could be outside of war... All of that would dissapear, disolve as if it had never existed; and Rex would be left staring into nothing.

They finally reach the mountains; and after a little while longer, they find a safe spot for them to take refuge in. They almost stumble inside –both of their legs aching and trembling from the cold and effort by now–; but being protected from the harsh and unforgiving wind is an instant relief.

Rex helps you to sit down; and you stretch your legs on the rocky floor of the cave and let him tug you backwards so that your shoulders are able to rest against one of the walls. You're shivering; the freezing temperatures managing to slip under your armour and specially on your vulnerable open spot. It's not all bad, though; you guess that the combination of the quick self-cauterizing blaster shot and the cold have managed to sort of keep the wound in stasis. Your vision is blurry and blackening when you try to move your head around, though; you feel dizzy and weak too. You don't know if it's because the wound, the post-battle fatigue, the cold, or all of them combined.

"General?" You hear Rex's voice ask, and it's only then when you notice his voice sounds too close and clear and realize he has taken off his bucket. "I think you're a step away from frostbite. You should take the armour off; it's so cold it's making you more damage than good at this point, now that we're hiding here".

You nod distractedly. That makes sense, yeah. You move your right hand to the shoulder attachments of your chest plate; but your movements are too slugish to pry the seals apart. The Captain's hands gently tug yours away and he tries to do it instead.

"Let me help you, okay?" He asks, always a bit wary to touch you and cross the line between General and trooper –it had taken a really long time for him not to jump at your ocasional affectionate pat on the shoulder or squeeze on his arms–. "Just try... Try to stay with me, General".

You hum in agreement and close your eyes; following his gentle commands a bit too slow for Rex's taste. He carefully pries each plate from your body and sets it aside; packing it up in the same way all clones do with theirs. You don't even react when your wound is exposed to the cold air; but Rex is quick to cover it with a bacta patch anyways. Then goes the plates of your back; and youre finally left in the soft and comfortable tunic and unders you always wear for the battlefield.

A new wave of exhaustion hits you; and your body slumps forward, only saved from smashing into the ground by Rex's quick hand on your shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, General. Cyare don't... Don't leave me".

You can hear the fear in his voice. The pain. The panic.

Even if it's an almost impossible task, you manage to blink your eyes open if only just for his sake.

"m' not going anywhere, Rex. I just need to sleep" you mumble grogily, trying to control the way your mind spins.

Rex opens his mouth, ready to ask you to stay with him, to not leave him here; but you continue and reassure him.

"This' one of those times you're gonna' have to believe in the Jedi magic. M'not dying. I just need to sleep and connect with the Force".

Rex reluctantly –scared– nods. He knows you had received a different training from Anakin, Ashoka and Obi-Wan; the Jedis he's used to work with. But all Jedis are not the same. While the previous three had grown more focused on how to use the Force to fight, you had cultivated other aspects; telepathy, healing. Kit Fisto had been your master; and though he had definitly teached you the art of the lightsaber, he had also encouraged you to explore your gift for telepathy –he was a powerfull telepath too– and even offered you to spend a few years learning Force Healing under the supervision of Jedi Stass Allie in the Temple. You had once explained to him you were nowhere close to be considered an expert on such themes; but that you could at least accelerate the curative progression of wounds a bit, if only enough to evade the risk of inminent death.

Rex doesn't need your skin to be completely closed and looking as if the shot had never happened; he had enough with avoiding your loss for now.

"Okay" he whispers back with a shuddering breath. "I'll let you sleep, then. Just let me... Let me hold you against me. You're still freezing and I don't want to risk it while we both rest".

"Kay" you mumble in response, closing your eyes again and dropping your head back against the wall. "But hurry up, my brain's fuzzy".

Rex nods and rushes to take his own armour off; staying in his blacks and taking a seat by your side, with his back against the wall. He then burries his thoughts about rules and impropiate gestures and pushes an arm under your knees; the other one around your torso, and then he uses a small burst of energy and tugs you towards him so that you're resting in his lap, between his crossed legs.

You make a little surprised sound; but inmediately melt against him when he pulls a heating emergency blanket from his backpack and places it around your body. You hum feeling gratefull and cuddle closer to his chest; hiding your face in his neck and tugging the blanket closer to try to cover him as well.

His hands give you a soft squeeze. Shortly after, you surrender to unconsciousness.

Rex has a lot of time to think until you wake up again between his arms.

He takes the moment of respite to breathe in your warmth and soothe his stressed mind; his galoping heart. It was terrifying, almost losing you; but you're safe now. Your breathing has eased with time; your deep, pained frown slowly relaxing and an almost peacefull expresion making its way across your face.

It's still a huge relief for him when you groan and open your eyes; blinking slowly to try to make a picture of whats happening and where you are.

Rex only softens his hold on your body so that you can sit down straigther and turn around to face him. You stretch your neck and shoot him a tired but warm smile.

"Hey" the captain rasps. "How are you feeling?"

You glance down at your dressed wound and take a moment to analyse yourself. You're still tired, and your muscles ache, and you're in desperate need of some water and a shower; but here in Rex's lap, you can't help but feel content and safe.

"Better" you decide to answer, smiling softly. "You?"

Rex tries to give you a tiny smile; but it's such a pained, little unsure thing that it tugs at your heart.

"I'm fine" he answers, one of his hands carefully caressing up and down your back under the blanket.

You shove down a pleasant shiver and tilt your head to the side.

"I don't have to be a Jedi to know that's a lie" you tell him cautiously, your own hands travelling down to catch his with yours. "Tell me, if you want?"

Rex stares at you for a few seconds and sighs.

"You shouldn't have jumped in to save me" he starts, glancing down at your hands, unable to hold the weight of your beautiful eyes on his while he confesses this. "You're one in a million. A Jedi General. Hundreds of lifes depend on yours. Mine is replacable. I'm not important, and you..."

"You're the most important thing in mine".

It's soft and sweet; the way you finally tell him what you've been keeping to your heart all this time. What you've been struggling with.

"What?"

Rex has the most cute stunned and confused face you've seen before. His eyes lock onto yours inmediately; almost not believing your words, like needing to check you've really said that to him. That you mean it.

You smile wistfully and squeeze his hands. They're rough, callous formed on the spots where his skin frictions with his favorite pair of DC-blasters; the hands of a soldier that hasn't had the chance to be anything else. It's why you have been trying to show him the rest of the world, the little pleasure that can be found in the simplest everyday things. He deserves it. All his brothers do.

"I have never wanted more than I had" you begin, deciding to finally bare your heart once and for all to him. "All I've ever wanted to do is help others, and I've grown up with that purpose without having nothing else to fight for. Nothing that I wanted for myself. No secret that I had to keep trapped inside ny mind or heart. Yet..."

You reach up to trace reverent fingertips over the captain's cheek. You feel his stuttering breath against your skin; smile at the loving, hopefull way his golden eyes are silently watching you.

"I want to keep you, Rex. Every morning I find myself expectant and tense until I see you in the distance. Everytime we're close, everytime we talk, it fills me with a comforting warmth" your eyes track a sinfull path through his lips. So tempting, so close to yours. You can't help yourself and trace a thumb over them. Rex gasps, and his eyes flicker through your face, his heart filling with devotion and passion too. "I want to burn, though. I've been trying to hold back, but I can't. I want to get closer. I want to kiss you. I want to be able to relax between your arms when everything gets to be too much. You might think that in the grand scale of things you're not important. Perhaps, seing it that way, none of us are. What I can tell you is my personal truth, your spot in my individual scale; and there's no other person I deem as important as you".

You're desperate to kiss him; but you feel like he wants to say something too, so you try to be patient and wait for him.

Rex cups one side of your face in his hand. It trembles. You understand the feeling; and smile encouragingly. You have been worried about mistaking his kidness for something more too; of crossing boundaries. But he has nothing to fear now. Still, you understand. Your heart is speeding up in your chest too; as it does with everything exciting and new. Your feelings for him aren't; but this closeness, the real posibility of kissing him for the first time, is.

"I've loved you for a long time now" he admits, voice gentle and firm despite his own nervousness. "Perhaps for as long as I've been able to understand what romantic love is. I... I'll be happy to have you, cyare. When you need me and when you don't, too".

His words shoot warmth and joy to every cell of your body; a radiant smile perching on your tired face.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, bringing your face close to his with a gentle tug of your chin.

You smile and sigh.

"Yes..." you whisper over his lips. "Yeah".

THE END.

Didn't I make you two cute? Aaaaah 💖 Hope you like it! Xx, Blue.

Still accepting Xmas requests, you can use any of this prompts (except 9) or one of your own!

[ebisul]

Watching the “Jedi Bad” crowd fully misinterpret the Jedi pre-corruption is painful a little bit.

The Jedi do not gatekeep the force. They just don’t. They only really go after those who threaten the peace and justice of the Galaxy(bc thats their literal job, to maintain peace and justice) and the Sith specifically.

There are plenty of other groups in the Galaxy that arent the Jedi and still practice using the force(the witches of Dathomir for example) Unless they are given a reason, they tend to leave well enough alone.

We also dont have a clear understanding of how they induct younglings and I believe this is incredibly dependent on the individual jedi how they go about it.

We know in The Clone Wars series they will at the very least give some time between taking a child to the Temple and it’s birth. We also know that there is a likelihood that some parents give up their children willingly to be raised as Jedi.

We’ve never really seen the Jedi take a child through nefarious means unless someone else could provide a canon example. Qui Gon taking Anakin is an outlier because only Qui Gon wanted to take the child. Qui Gon took Anakin from a place of selfishness and that is purely a Qui Gon thing.

There’s also the misunderstanding of how the force itself works. From George Lucas himself, the force isnt good and bad, the lightside of the force is Balanced and the dark side is Unbalanced. The dark side IS corruption its the “easy way”. That is why the Jedi follow the light.

I could keep ranting about the force and the Jedi but this is getting long

[wannabespacesmuggler]

IN THE COLD ➵ CPT. REX [01]

Part One | Masterlist | Check out the Playlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Ferrix is a rocky, sparsely populated planet that shifts into a desolate tundra in the long winter months. In that barren wasteland, your greatest nightmare becomes a reality. After losing your squadron, you're demoted to Commander and reassigned to the 501st Battalion. In between missions after the departure of their former Commander, their next assignment comes from the Jedi Council: the 501st is needed to relieve the current squadron stationed on Ferrix. You fear that you won't be able to survive another battle in the cold, but your new Captain makes it his mission to keep you safe and warm.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of loss, PTSD, slow burn, canon divergent, set during The Clone Wars post Ahsoka leaving the Jedi Order, anti-Jedi Council, original clone characters, reader is around Anakin's age, no use of y/n, use of the names 'commander' and 'sir'

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: I've been wanting to write for Captain Rex since I fist watched The Clone Wars years ago, but never had an idea worth putting to paper until now. I'm really proud of this one and I'm excited for you guys to read it. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist.

The cruiser is buzzing with activity as Rex, helmet in hand, marches through the hallways at a breakneck pace. He'd just received word from General Kenobi that his presence is needed on the bridge, along with General Skywalker. After years of fighting side-by-side with General Kenobi, a direct message to his personal comms isn't an unheard-of scenario. However, Rex rarely receives orders from the General of the 212th, which can only mean one thing: he can't find Anakin. After checking both his personal quarters and the mess hall, he knows there's only one other place that Anakin often sneaks off to.

Rex slides to a stop in front of the door to the mediation room and makes sure no one else is in the hallway before punching in his clearance code. The door hisses as it slides open. Anakin's head shoots towards the sound, but the worry in his features disappears when he notices Rex standing in the doorway.

"Sir, General Kenobi has requested our presence on the bridge."

"Thank you, Rex. I'll be out in a minute."

Rex gives his General a curt nod before exiting and standing guard in front of the door to ensure his privacy. Rex has known about Anakin's relationship with Senator Amidala for quite some time. After all, Anakin was never particularly gifted in the matters of subtleness and secrecy. And Rex, after many years working side-by-side with his General, knows that his favorite place to slip away and have a private comm chat is the meditation room. After a few moments, Anakin exits and gives Rex an appreciative grin.

"Ready to meet our new Commander?"

Rex falls into step beside Anakin as they begin to make their way to the bridge. He doesn't quite know how to answer the General's question. After Ahsoka's departure, Rex was sure he'd be promoted to Commander. However, several weeks after the position was vacated, Anakin received word from the Jedi Council that they'd be sending another Jedi to fill the position. Rex would be lying if he said that it didn't sting. After all, the Jedi Council decided it was best to promote someone outside of the battalion when he's been with the 501st for the majority of his life now. He knows that not everyone looks at the clones like General Skywalker and Kenobi do — like they are all actual, complex individuals instead of pawns on a holochess board — but his dedication and loyalty to the 501st is undeniable. But then Anakin asked who they'd be sending, and they said your name.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm sure you have thoughts on the matter. After all, you've probably heard the rumors circling around."

Of course, Rex has heard rumors about the lone survivor of the 177th whispered in the bunk room after curfew or thrown around amidst the chaos of the mess hall; however, he also read your report after they'd been notified of your new position with the 501st. You were stationed with your squadron on Ferrix, an outer rim planet that the Republic considers essential territory due to its abundant natural resources and bountiful salvage markets. The 177th had been pushing back the Separatist Army for weeks — trudging through waist-deep snow in sub-zero temperatures — when the Separatist Army began shooting at them from above in a small canyon during whiteout conditions. You made the wise decision to retreat. After all, the 177th were supposed to be pulled off planet three days prior, but, last you heard, multiple snow storms delayed the reinforcements. Before you could retreat, your squadron was flanked by the Separatist Army on either side of the canyon — leaving the 177th weak, frostbitten, and unknowingly trapped in a minefield. Rex remembers feeling sick to his stomach reading the report, knowing the 177th never stood a chance. If the explosions didn't kill your squadron, then the ensuing avalanche that buried everything in the canyon did. You were the only survivor, and you spent the next two days pulling your troopers out of the snow while waiting for the next squadron to relieve you. After you were finally evacuated, you spent the next month submerged in a bacta tank, and when you finally returned to the Jedi Temple, you were promptly demoted to Commander. A small, selfish part of him thinks that the Jedi Council is punishing you both with your new position.

"I read the report, sir. I have nothing but respect and admiration for our new Commander."

Anakin glances at the clone, searching his features for any hint of dishonesty or skepticism. But he is pleased to see nothing but sincerity on his Captain's face. He's also read the report, and the incredible act of loyalty to your squadron may not have earned you favor from the Council, but it certainly earned Anakin's respect. Although he knows that the council can never replace Ahsoka, you are certainly cut from the same cloth as the rest of the 501st.

"As do I. Obi-Wan ensures me that they're a good fit for the team. Apparently, their squadron rivaled ours in Council sanctions for 'unorthodox military strategies'."

This causes Rex to laugh. Rex was an exemplary student during his training on Kamino — being one of the first clones promoted to a leadership role in the Republic's army. However, one thing he's learned throughout his time as Captain of the 501st is warfare is rarely done by the book. Instead, he's realized that in times of war, leaders require a little more finesse. The Council may not necessarily approve of their methods, but they don't complain as long as they get the job done. But on the rare instance when they fail? Well, let's say Rex hopes never to attend another one of those meetings.

"Then this should be a smooth transition, sir."

Anakin nods at his second-in-command, and Rex slides his helmet on him before they enter the bridge. He is grateful that his face is obscured because he's sure his expression twists into prominent confusion as the doors slide open and reveal you standing beside General Kenobi. You're young — not much older than Anakin. He supposes the Republic needs all the leaders it can get, but he thought that General Skywalker was an anomaly. But here you are. You're clad in navy Jedi robes and Republic-issued black body plate except for your shoulder bells, which are undoubtedly standard clone armor. The sight peaks Rex's curiosity — he's never seen a Jedi sport their squadron's uniform until today. He immediately recognizes the white spaulders with deep, purple accent paint — the color once assigned to the 177th — as Commander Bravo's. However, you've made a singular adjustment to your late Commander's gear. Tallies are a regular occurrence on clone armor. Some clones like to keep track of their Separatist kill count, while others like to document their successful missions. However, he's certain that the tally marks you've etched onto your left spaulder signify something a little more personal. There are nine tally marks — one for each clone you lost on Ferrix. He's certain because his marks convey a similar message — one tally for each brother he's lost since the start of the war. The shoulder bells seem almost out of place as they contrast the rest of your dark attire. And Rex quickly realizes that it's purposeful. You want them to be the first thing someone notices — you want to keep the memory of Bravo and the rest of the 177th alive. Rex finds this behavior at odds with what he knows about Jedi teachings; however, it's also one of the most admirable actions he's witnessed from a Republic General.

"General Skywalker, a pleasure to meet you again."

Your tone is assertive, and you stand like a soldier with your hands clasped tightly behind your back. The way you square your shoulders at the Generals showcases your defiance; however, Rex can tell you mean no disrespect to Anakin. No, this display is directed toward General Kenobi — to show clear opposition toward the Jedi Council. Obi-Wan lacks the shock evident in both Rex and Anakin's features, and he shows no offense to your actions — seemingly indifferent to your noncompliance. Rex can only imagine what your meetings with the Jedi Council were like before this. He watches as an amused grin spreads across Anakin's face at your antics. General Kenobi was undoubtedly right about one thing — you'll fit right in with the rest of the 501st.

A part of him is surprised that you were reassigned at all, but then again, the Republic Army needs all the bodies it can get. Maybe you understand what it's like for the clones, constantly feeling like pieces in the Republic's grand game of holochess.

"Pleasure is all mine, Commander. This is our second-in-command, Captain Rex."

Rex notices the way your jaw clenches at the word 'commander'. Although he was initially disappointed in being passed over for the title, he can't imagine what it's like to be stripped of your position altogether. Especially one you'd worked so hard to achieve — becoming a Jedi General is no small feat. He'd feel lost if he was ever demoted from his position as Captain. So, Rex muscles off his helmet and gives you a salute, trying to provide you with proper respect.

"Sir."

Your frigid facade melts for just a second, and in its place is a moment of recognition. Rex watches as your eyes widen ever so slightly, and your breath seems to catch in your throat. You look like you've seen a ghost.

"Excuse me, General. Captain."

Your voice wavers slightly as you give Rex a curt nod. He watches with Anakin as you retreat from the bridge, leaving them equally impressed and confused. General Kenobi clears his throat before addressing the Bantha in the room.

"As you can see, they came back from Ferrix a little..."

"Frosty?"

Obi-Wan stifles a laugh as his former padawan finishes his sentence.

"Something like that."

Rex's eyes are still glued to the door you just left. He can't stop thinking about the way you looked at him. He's confident that this is the first time he's met you, but you regarded him with a familiarity that made Rex believe you once knew him — like he is someone who haunts you.

He tears his eyes away from the door and focuses on the conversation between General Kenobi and Skywalker. There is still no word on their next assignment. This is disheartening, after the loss of Ahsoka both Anakin and Rex are itching for a new mission — for something to keep their minds off of what's missing. No matter where they get sent next, one thing is sure: there's work to be done beforehand to earn their new Commander's trust. Obi-Wan excuses himself as he receives a call from the Jedi Council. Anakin takes this moment to direct his attention back to Rex.

"What do you think, Rex?"

"I'm starting to think that transition isn't going to be as smooth as we believed, sir."

[faerieroyal]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

thinking about ahsoka, who loves nothing more than to have your head in her lap while the two of you are talking, so that she can look down and one of her favorite sights - your face - while she speaks. thinking about ahsoka, who insists on holding your hand whenever possible, and is always reluctant when she has to let go. thinking about ahsoka, who is terribly slow to actually admit that she loves you because of what she has been taught, but is so completely happy that she fell for you in the end. thinking about ahsoka, who will never hesitate to use her lightsabers or her fists on anyone who has insulted or hurt you, because she would do absolutely anything to protect you. thinking about ahsoka, who thinks about you even when you aren’t there, who cannot seem to ever get you fully out of her head and, in her heart of hearts, doesn’t really want to.

thinking about ahsoka, who has been raised as a soldier and forbidden to form attachments and hurt by so many people in her life, but who finds her solace in you - who loves you so much, so completely, that she would stand up straight and grip her lightsabers and fight the entire galaxy, enemies and allies alike, if it meant keeping safe the person who has shed more light onto her life than any star or sun or moon ever could.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

star wars taglist: @chaosgod4life, @rebel-spy !

general taglist: @maddipoof, @thatmagickjuju, @talkingturnedtoscreamss, @malafvma, @auxiliarydetective, @heliads, @oneirataxia-girl !

( send me an ask if you want to be added to a taglist !! )

[reality-itself-but-magic]

i saw ur post about how ur writing requests are open and i am humbly requesting literally any quinlan vos x reader content,,, there is so little of him and he is my husband !!! (quinobi x reader is also totally welcome ehe :3) also congrats on 50 followers !!! im happy for u !!!!

MY FIRST REQUEST FUCK YEAHHH

okay so I don’t really know if I got his voice right but here he is. This request gave me a lot of freedom so you get antagonistic!reader my beloved. I also trieeeed doing the romantic? I’m aroace myself so not sure if it came across ^^

Requester: @shadowheads-shitshow

Word count: about 1.5k

Pairing: Quinlan Vos/reader (romantic)

Rating: Teen (swearing, sex jokes)

Trigger Warnings: mention of wounds (they patch each other up), mild.

Synopsis : Bounty hunter reader meets up with Quinlan when they both take the same job by accident.

By the time you see Quinlan, it's evident he's been watching you for quite some time.

He's perched on a rooftop, a level above you, and gives you a taunting little wave when he sees you looking over. You flip him off. He's far enough away that you can't make out his face, but you can tell that he's smiling when he ducks out of there rooftop, suddenly out of sight. Bastard.

This was your karking bounty — you were well off enough at the moment that you didn't really need the money but, well, it was really a matter of principle — and you weren't about to let it get poached by a Jedi. You'd be a laughingstock.

Even if the Jedi in question was an annoyingly endearing asshole. With pretty eyes.

With that in mind, you stalked off to find your next informant, renewed vigor in your stride.

The next time you saw him, it was at the door to the smuggling ring's main operation. He was there before you, which was infuriating considering that you had paid off a few people specifically so that the information would not get to him. Either your informants were traitors or he had people you didn't know about.

On the plus side, he was pretty clearly struggling with the door. You watched, bemused, as he made wavy hands at the door panel and then huffed when it didn't do anything. He was pouting a bit. It was cute. Force shit wasn't working, it seemed.

Clearing your throat, you decided to announce your presence. "Having some bad luck today, aren't we?" You asked, leaning against the wall and giving him the same little wave he'd taunted you with earlier in the tenday.

He grinned, turning to face you. "Must be good luck if it lead you to me," he said, abandoning the keypad. "Since I know my favorite bounty hunter always has solutions to my problems,"

"Are you planning to pay me for my wonderful solutions?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Only with the pleasure of my company," he said, stepping closer, " and I'm told that's quite valuable."

"Really? I can't imagine who would be out placing value on being separated from their sanity, but I'm told core worlders are strange like that." You volleyed back.

"Isn't sanity overrated, anyways?" Vos asked, gesturing wide, "and I rather think you could learn a lot from core worlders. Like generosity and helping others out of the kindness of your own heart."

"I don't have a heart." You said, lips quirking.

He took another step closer, till the two of you were breathing the same air. "Well I know that's not true."

"Bounty hunters aren't known for their truthfulness." You reply, taking note of how his lashes fluttered as he thought of a reply.

"Well I rather thought I might be an exception," He said, hand reaching up to-

You're both interrupted by a tall man with a plasma rifle slung over his shoulder and an unpleasant expression. "Who the fuck are you?" He asked, interrupting you both quite rudely. You had a stunner aimed at his throat in a millisecond, but Quinlan beat you to it, waving his hand and sending the guy straight up into the ceiling. When Quin dropped him, he's out cold.

"Too slow." Vos said, turning back to you with a cheeky grin."Your reflexes are all wasted away, aren't they, without me around to keep you on your toes."

"I think my mental state is the better for it." You returned dryly.

He clapped his hands together, a noise which was startlingly loud in this empty greeting room. "Back to business. I don't suppose you've got any help you'd be willing to give?"

You hummed noncommittally. "I want the bounty claimed in my name. You were never here."

"Alright," he nods, "but there's a few documents in there which I'm gonna need to grab."

"It's a deal," you offer, grabbing a plasma cutter and getting to work on that door.

It's dull work. The cutter is slow, not as fast as a lightsaber would be. Quinlan pretty obviously doesn't have his lightsaber on him. You'd be worried if your intel didn't say that most everyone in the den would be high out of their minds this time of day. Easy pickings.

Quinlan leans against the wall, looking you up and down. "That's a new arm guard," he says, starting up a relatively neutral conversation. 

"Yeah, the old one got blown up in a hutt pit." You smirk, still working that plasma cutter. "You've got some new ink."

The sleeveless tunic he wore showed a line of tattoos running down his arm. You recognized mort of them.

"Maybe I should get your name inked on next." He said, shooting you a glance. "And you get mine. We could match."

"Yeah, and they'll be calling me next time you get yourself locked up." You scoffed. "Too much responsibility for me, no sir."

After a pause, you added, "It'd look awful pretty though. Nice thought."

The cutter was nearly all the way through now. "Been a bit, hasn't it," you said, pointed. He'd disappeared before this bounty for a little while. A few weeks, not enough to have you making a search party, but enough for you to get nervous.

His smile turned sheepish. "Surprise undercover assignment. I would've warned you if I had the time."

It wasn't an apology. It was as close as the two of you got to one.

You weren't each others one and only, not any kind of soulmates, but you had something. You had each other to count on. What the two of you had was rough and loud and abrasive, just the way you both liked it.

The cutter was finished, or close enough to it. You kicked down what remained of the door with a grunt.

Offering Quinlan an arm, you nodded towards the now open door. "Onward, my prince." You deadpanned.

After you both had taken over the den — it was easy work, and comforting as you and Wuin found your flow again — you noticed him limping on the way out. You caught his eye, flicked your gaze down to his leg, and then made eye contact again. 

"It's nothing," he said, trying to look like he wasn't hurt.

You frowned, eyebrow raised.

"If you're planning to lie, you could at least do it better than that." You said, crossing your arms. "You got your goods?"

He rolled his eyes. "They're receipts, not spice packets. But yeah, I've got em."

"Good. My ship. Now." You point in the general direction, setting off with a brisk stride. You'd slow down for him, but you knew he knows the way. There's only one parking spot you ever use on this planet.

When you got to your ship, you opened up the hatch and left it open, waiting for him while you took out your bacta and med kit. You started on your own wounds while waiting for him to show up, which weren't too serious or hard to reach. Finally, he poked his head in through the hatch.

"You know, most people would wait for an injured man." He said, fake irritation splayed across his face. 

"I'm here waiting for you, aren't I?" You asked, gesturing for him to sit on the bed.

You grab a roll of gauze and some disinfectant. "Shirt off." You ordered.

He complied with a smirk. "If you wanted me to start undressing, there are less roundabout ways of asking-" He cut himself off with a hiss of pain as you swat him in the shoulder. 

You might have forgotten he was hurt. You offered him the bacta spray by way of apology, dabbing the antibacterial ointment in larger wounds. He gestured for you to turn around.

"That cut behind your shoulder needs stitches." He said, grabbing a needle and medical floss. You stayed still as he stitched it up. Each pinprick of pain is followed by the warmth of this, this ritual. The knowledge that neither of you have any obligation to be here, that you were here because you cared. 

Once he was done with your wounds, you turned back to his, checking the tightness of the bandages you'd wrapped earlier. 

He grabbed your hand, wrapped in gauze, and skimmed his lips along your knuckles. "There, I kissed it better."

"Aren't you going to do the same?" He asked, pointing to a bandage on his cheek.

"I'll do you one better," you murmur, capturing his lips in a kiss. It's slow, sweet. You're both alive. You have time to bring down the walls a little.

"I've missed you." He said, candidly.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me too," you confess, and go in for another kiss.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters Masterlist

In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over…

RATING: Mature | STATUS: Complete | POV: 2nd Person | GN Reader

☀️Early Morning

🌤️Midday

⛅Late Afternoon

🌓Evening

🌕Deep Night

🌄Golden Dawn Part 1

🌄Golden Dawn Part 2

Started 9/15/23 | Finished 2/29/24 | Total word count: 43,005

[FFF Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]

[layla4567]

May the force be with you

Cal Kestis x GN reader

Summary: Y/N has started to have feelings for Cal but doesn't know how to confess, maybe a love letter will help.

Warnings: Fluff time 😎

A/N: Hello, I apologize for not having included the "readmore" before (in fact I don't know if I did it correctly because they had never asked me before) and another apology if the story is not very accurate to the Star Wars universe (I'm not into it )

• • • • • • •

Maybe you always had those feelings for your friend. From the first minute you saw that red head and freckles like a strawberry. Yes, that must have been it. These feelings were not new, but even so in recent times they have intensified. Oh, yes indeed.

It all started in the last most recent mission. They were on the Mantis trying to look for the tombs of the three wise men. The map already had the exact coordinates, the destination was Dathomir. They got off the ship and headed towards some dark caves. It was wet and Cal had to light the way with his saber. You were lagging behind and the shadows were wrapping around you like a thin gauze, you ran in fear to his side and squeezed his hand, Cal turned his head towards you in surprise but then gave you a warm smile. He knew you were scared of the dark.

The faithful BD1 was clinging to Cal's shoulder. We went deeper and in a moment the place seemed more illuminated, the walls were no longer rocks but fat roots that rose from the floor to the ceiling. BD1 made a beep and quickly got off the redhead's shoulder and ran towards some kind of climbing wall and stopped looking at both of you.

"Looks like here is". Said the freckled boy with his hands on his hips looking up.

The white droid made an affirmative metallic noise, Cal smiled widely.

"Okay little one, hop on"

The boy stretched out his arm and the small droid climbed up to him to cling to his back. Then he saw you without stopping smiling

"Ladies first"

Cal extended his arm like a gentleman inviting you in as you bowed briefly, laughing. You held on tightly to the wall and started climbing it with Cal underneath you. He tried not to look up, blushing slightly. When you reached the top you saw him climb and with each step the muscles in his arms flexed and bulged, you had to shake your head to concentrate on something else.

Unfortunately the route did not end there, they had to cross to the other side and climb a wall that reached another rock. You approached the edge, you thought about whether you could jump but the gap was very long, you swallowed worriedly. Cal came to your side, reassuring you.

"Hey don't worry, I'm here with you"

His closeness and his affectionate squeeze on your arm made your cheeks redden and a chill ran down your neck. Of course he had no idea about all these sensations that were going through your body.

"I'll cross first, so you can see how I did it, okay?"

He offered generously and you nodded. For him it was easy, he was much more agile and flexible than you. Even when he was a simple worker he could jump and do pirouettes, you can't. With the grace and ease of a monkey he arrived at the other side in a second, then he looked at you with a nod of head inviting you to cross. You were still afraid, you tried to see how he did it but it had been so fast. Seeing that you were hesitant, Cal shouted at you, encouraging you.

"Nothing will happen to you, trust me, if you fall I'll catch you."

Those words, that simple phrase melted your heart. Now you were sure, you were in love with him. The tenderness with which he said that made you want Cal in your life more than ever so he could protect you. A little calmer you approached the wall and after steadying your feet you began to move to the right, always concentrating on not looking down. Don'tlookdowndon'tlookdown. Cal followed your every movement with religious attention, prepared for any possible fall. When you were about a meter from the edge of the other rock Cal advised you to try to push yourself to the right and jump. Your face contorted into a mask of terror, jump? Was he crazy or what?

"Just trust me!"

Of course you trusted him, you would even trust him with the most powerful weapon because you knew he wouldn't hurt you with it. You took a deep breath and followed his advice. You took a clean and jerk with your entire body flexed and jumped to the right, stretching your entire body and your arms trying to grab the edge of the rock. With horror you saw how your fingers barely touched the surface and you began to fall. An anguished scream calling your friend's name came from your throat, tearing the silence of the place. The freckled man quickly positioned himself at the edge of the rock as if his life depended on it and held you firmly by the wrists. The two of you looked at each other for a few seconds while your body hung and swung in the air. You were scared, but Cal was frowning with effort and huffing, but he couldn't stop a mocking smile from appearing at the corner of his lips.

"I promised you I'd catch you didn't I?"

A nervous smile appeared on your face. Very carefully he lifted you up and placed a hand on your back so you could sit up. Being so close to him created revolutions in your head and hormones. His gaze inspecting you up and down for possible injuries as he asked you over and over again if you were okay made you feel weak, your legs felt weak as if at any moment they could shake and fall with your knees hitting the cold, hard floor as you hugged his waist and you gave him looks with the eyes of a lost puppy, drunk, needy, desirous and burning with love saying "I am yours"

As your breathing quickened slightly Cal seemed satisfied with his inspection and they continued on their way with BD1 in the lead. You were still a little distracted by all your intoxicating and somewhat lewd thoughts about your friend that you didn't realize he was walking away so you shook your head and trotted after him.

The second time Cal gave you butterflies in your stomach (without him even knowing) was in Kashyyyk. A holocron had guided us there for the same reason, to find information about the Zaffo. Already on the ship we were preparing to land, Cal put on some of his ponchos because that day was cooler, you didn't want to be a weirdo who spies on people but you couldn't help but look askance when he put on his poncho in front of you. It looked so cute on him. They jumped off the Mantis that had already boarded and landed on the ground. It was a quite jungle place full of bushes and wild plants. You headed again to a kind of cave but this time illuminated because it had no roof, Cal and BD1 never left your side. You could see that there was a giant spider web on the ground, how disgusting.

"Be careful, there may be giant spiders here." Cal said, pointing to the spider web that you had seen and a look of concern tried to appear on your face but you suppressed it.

Another time you had to climb a wall, by this time you had already practiced jumping and climbing so you could handle this. When they reached the top they saw a kind of machine that Cal touched with his hand and a long rope was deployed above you, a zip line.

"BD1 would you do the honors?"

Cal looked at the droid that was on the ground, when it did a small cartwheel and then jumped on the redhead, Cal laughed amused.

"Wait, wait, do the honors for what?" You asked suspiciously and confused.

"Oh right, I hadn't told you. We will cross to the other side with the help of BD1"

The freckled redhead pointed to his little droid friend and he jumped up to grab the cable. BD1 beeped letting them know it was ready and waiting for them to grab onto it. You stepped back, if there was something that scared you more than the darkness it was heights, you had a lot of vertigo. Cal turned to look at you and saw you so serious and scared that he approached you worriedly to take your hand. And there the butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. He guided you towards the zip line slowly with tenderness, love and patience as if you were a child.

"Come, hold on to me." Cal raised your arms to put them behind his shoulders. My God, you felt like you were going to faint. You shyly wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his strong arm around your waist, pressing you closer to him, you gasped in surprise.

"I'm sorry". He said modestly

"No!, I mean, It-It's ok"

Your head was on the opposite side of his, looking back and although you couldn't see his face you felt him smile in amusement.

"Alright, are you ready?"

Resting your head in the crook of his neck you nodded wordlessly. He affirmed his grip and when he told BD1 that they were ready you closed your eyes squeezing them. BD1 moved quickly and soon you felt that your feet were no longer touching the ground, you screamed scared but you knew that nothing would happen to you having Cal by your side. You opened your eyes a little and adrenaline invaded you, your hair was shaking from the speed and your breathing was short, you felt a rollercoaster in your stomach. When they reached the other side you felt a little dizzy as you got out of Cal's arms, you staggered a little still in shock and he quickly grabbed you by the shoulders.

"all in order?"

Cal looked at you attentively looking for any sign of discomfort but you were smiling almost laughing, the zip line ride had been more exciting than you thought and soon fear gave way to excitement. You looked at him and nodded, your hair was messy. He laughed and gently smoothed your rebellious locks that were sticking to your face, gently brushing them aside. The soft touch of his fingertips on your face and forehead sent an electric current again, this time throughout your spine. And damn, he didn't even know it and maybe he never will.

And here you were now, sitting at the desk in your room with BD1 staring at you sitting on the table to one side and with an old paper like a papyrus and a pencil in your hand and your mind blank. You sighed frustrated, you thought it was time to confess to Cal but you weren't good at talking, expressing your feelings. When you wanted to speak to him you couldn't find the right words. But you were better at writing than talking, a love letter would be an easier way to put your feelings in order without the pressure of seeing Cal face to face. Or so you thought. You still didn't know how to start the letter.

Dearest Cal

You huffed in annoyance, it was too formal. After all, he was your friend, not a stranger. You tapped the tip of your pencil against your head, thinking of new ideas. BD1 next to you had no idea what you were doing, you certainly didn't understand his language but it wasn't difficult to figure out what he was saying since the white droid looked with his head tilted at the paper and then looked at you.

"I'm writing a letter to Cal." BD1 looked at you as if waiting for an explanation.

"Yes, to Cal. A...love letter". The little droid jumped excitedly, you laughed.

"It's been a while since I had to confess my feelings to him but I didn't feel up to it, so I thought a letter would be easier. But don't tell him anything, promise."

BD1 nodded his head standing firm which made you smile tenderly. You closed your eyes and exhaled air through your mouth. You decided you wouldn't think so much and just let the pencil guide your hand. After letting your emotions and thoughts flow, the letter looked more or less like this

Cal I hope this letter reaches you on time and is not too late. I can no longer hide what I feel for you, I think I like you. And not as a friend, I really like you. I don't intend for you to feel the same way about me, I just wanted to let out what I feel and clear my mind and heart. Your always friend, Y/N

You put your pencil down shakily as you folded the paper into four. With your heart pounding in your chest like a drum, you could only hope that Cal wouldn't take it the wrong way, and even better, if he also felt the same as you. Suddenly you heard footsteps behind you and your friend's voice calling for his company droid. Pale, you quickly and clumsily shoved the paper into your pocket just before Cal entered your room.

"Hey here you are, I looked for you all over the ship!". He came up behind you as you turned around in your seat with a forced smile, dying of nerves inside. On the other hand the droid gave a happy beep. Cal noticed you and added, smiling.

"And it's good to see you too, we'll wait for you for dinner"

You responded that you would be there with an awkward laugh. Cal walked away from your room and you breathed a sigh of relief again, BD1 was still attentive to you.

"Here, take this to Cal, leave it in his room where he can see it please. I'm counting on you."

You handed him the folded letter and as if he were an agent on a special mission, the little robot ran towards the freckled man's room without being seen. You stood up laughing but then the smile faded from your face. What if Cal didn't feel the same way? You tried to push away those harmful thoughts. You took a deep breath to calm yourself and bravely left your room. And may the force be with you

The dinner was exquisite, the atmosphere was warm and familiar. It really felt like a united family. Cal couldn't stop making jokes and you laughed at everything he said or did with dreamy eyes. This did not escape Cere's attention, of course. After dinner you offered to wash the dishes with her.

"It seems like you and Cal get along well." She said casually

You stood looking at her confused with a plate in her hand and the sponge in the other dripping soapy water.

"Cal gets along with everyone, he's like that.". You said downplaying it

"Yes, but I could notice that he spends more time with you or looks at you in a peculiar way. Mmh, I wonder why that is?"

"What? Seriously?"

You couldn't help the astonishment that formed all over your face and voice. Cere had made you fall into her trap.

"Ah, I knew it! You like him, kid!"

"Whaaat? Me? pftt, I don't think so"

You cleared your throat and forced a strangely high-pitched voice that wanted to sound disinterested. But Cere wasn't stupid and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"I meant it. I've seen how Cal gets closer to you than the rest. Talk to him, I think the feeling could be mutual"

This fanned the flame of hope within your heart. You thanked him and went outside to practice with your cane. Cal was already in his room. You remembered the letter. You trembled nervously and ran out of the ship.

The sky was a beautiful twilight orange color. The afternoon breeze made your hair wave. You firmly gripped your staff and began to swing it in your hand, attacking and blocking an invisible opponent. Meanwhile Cal was sitting on his bed thinking about resting for a while when he saw a paper on his nightstand. He took it and unfolded it, when he began to read his heart began to accelerate. He quickly searched the entire ship looking for you, seeing you practicing outside he decided to approach. You were trying to spin your cane in front of you and wave it at the sides of your body but you were hitting yourself or dropping the cane.

"You're doing it wrong"

His deep voice behind you made you jump and throw the cane onto the grass. Laughing, he approached you and with the Force he attracted the cane that you dropped to his hand. He always boasted about his gift. Cal stood behind you, pressing his body against your back. Your breath hitched for a moment. He placed the cane in your hands, taking you by the elbow and guiding your arms forward. His head was close to your neck and tilted forward a little so he could see your hands. His chest pressed against your back made your ears turn red.

"Hold the cane firmly and do it like this"

His breath tickled your neck and shoulder and made you feel electricity. Cal guided your hands by placing his on top of yours. His hands larger than yours maintained firm but gentle contact and together they moved as if they were a single wave, as if they were practicing a dance learned by heart. When you were finally able to do the maneuver you wanted to do with your cane, he congratulated you without leaving you and you turned your head to look at him happily. When you turned to look ahead he took advantage of this and got closer to your ear.

"I already read your letter"

His whispered voice near your ear made your mind go blank and you worriedly bit your bottom lip hard. You turned to face him with your eyes lowered.

"Yeah about that, I-"

Cal grabbed your cheek forcing you to look at him, you could feel your cheeks burning as you opened your eyes enormously.

"Shh, You don't have to say anything. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was afraid, afraid that it wouldn't be reciprocated. You are the sweetest being in the galaxy and when I'm with you I feel complete and I didn't want to-"

You started talking so fast and you were getting so nervous that Cal closed the distance by grabbing your cheeks with both hands and crashing his lips against yours. It was a tender kiss, his shy lips barely touched yours for fear that you would reject him. He broke the kiss, looking at you expectantly.

"Don't stop." You exalted with drunken love eyes and his lips

Cal placed his hands on your hips and you moved your hands up to the collar of his shirt, deepening the kiss. Now his mouth covered much of yours with more confidence, but it was still delicate like everything about him. From the ship Cere looked mischievously from the window

• • • • • • •

[ebisul]

How do you think the “anti Jedi” crowd would feel if I said that the Jedi being the ones to train the literal magic wielding superpowered children was probably the best possible scenario considering they probably didn’t even have to take them off planet since there were Jedi temples and Jedi spread all throughout the galaxy?

Coruscant wasn’t the only planet with a temple. It’s just the temple where the council is.

[daylighteclipsed]

Sora and Riku would love Star Wars

[taska-rokanh]

Attachment (Platonic Obi-wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader)

A continuation of the "Good Night" AU.

Obi-wan looked across to his Padawan, sitting in the co-pilot's seat of his small ship. "So, how was your first trip to Mandalore?"

"It was fun," you smiled, fidgeting a bit with the hem of your sleeve. "The duchess's nephew was especially nice."

You watched in confusion as the color drained from Obi-wan's face. "Yes, well," he said, trying to maintain his composure. "It's best to remember not to get too attached, Padawan mine."

"I wasn't going to get attached, Master," you defended, half joking and half worried. "Force, I've only known the boy for an afternoon. We're barely even friends."

"That's... Comforting to hear, I suppose."

You kept going, trying to get a smile on his face. "And he is a bit annoying."

"That's a bit more concerning," Obi-wan said gravely.

"What?" You tilted your head.

"I know how these things start, my dear."

"What things, Master?" You asked, all business and innocent curiosity now.

A bit of pink came back to his cheeks, and he looked away from you. "Uh, nothing. Nothing you need to be worried about, at least."

"Obi-wan, you should at least go and say hello to your girlfriend," Anakin said as he came barrelling into the cockpit, only noticing after his sentence was finished that his Master's young Padawan was sitting there as well.

"Girlfriend?" You asked, the question much more surprised than the last. "Wait, is that how you know so much about 'these things'?" You asked, putting air quotes around the words.

Before your Master could open his mouth, you started again. "Wait, you thought--oh, no! I could break the Code for someone better than Korkie Kryze!" You cried indignantly.

Anakin had tears in his eyes as he laughed. You thought you could hear Master Kenobi mutter hopelessly, "She's not my girlfriend."

"You--oh, Force!" Anakin wheezed. "Did you really think this was a good time to have the Talk with her?" He nearly choked.

"And about Korkie Kryze!" You pointed out again, still offended.

"And about Korkie Kryze!" Anakin agreed gleefully.

"I am having a talk with both of you later," Obi-wan said sternly, having given up on arguing with the two of you. "Now get off my ship before I drive off and leave Ahsoka to pilot yours."

[archivyrep]

Record deletion and Dooku's manipulation of lackluster archival security in "Tales of the Jedi"

Dooku walks toward the entrance to the archival vault and no one questions or asks why he is there… the lack of security here shows a fundamental flaw in the Jedi library and archive structure, which he exploits Some time ago, I decided to watch Star Wars: Tales of the Jedi, an anthology series released in 2023, prior to the release of Star Wars: Tales of the Empire, created by Dave Filoni, a…

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Golden Dawn Part 2) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss. Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Scheming brothers. Brief miscommunications. Mutual pining? 👀 Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word-count: 6,743

Deep Night, Part 2

It did not take little Mir long to find several samples of art and poetry to share with the cluster of curious on-lookers that have grown around her sister while she prepares bundles of incense and dried flowers. Petals and dried leaves are taken in clusters of twenty-seven before being tied tightly with twine, and carefully passed over the fire to the individual by name. Among the first bundles she gives, one is offered to Plo Koon, who has joined you since Mir had to ask for Solladara’s help in finding a particular piece of poetry and it interrupted their discussion. 

“This is for you, Plo Koon.” 

“That is kind of you. Thank you, young Gi.” the Jedi professes his thanks once he’s able to extract one of his occupied hands, more of the Chossi children than before sitting around him or in his lap, now. He has nowhere to put it, for the time being, so while you’re busy reading some of the poetry Mir found, Commander Wolffe takes his general’s bundle of incense and finds a place for it in one of the many compartments in his utility belt. 

The Basic that’s carved into thin sheets of bark may be slightly broken and disjointed, but the verbal painting performed here is no less incredible. So… is it really the doing of the Dinocaeruleus anthos that everyone’s been so… inspired? The mere pollen in the air, where that pleasant and faintly familiar smell has followed you all day long, is responsible for all this?

All the sketches, the thoughtful conversations you’ve had today, even the thoughts you’ve been having about the commander, that could all be the influence of the pollen? You’re not sure how you feel about that. Stars above, you live in such a strange galaxy…

“It will only be effective for those who reach maturity.” Mir’s older sister explains to her curious onlookers and those fielding questions, like Tack, preparing a new incense bundle that will be given to you to take back to the Jedi cruiser. “To those who have not reached maturity, like Mir, the pollen and petal incense will only smell sweet.”

Beside you, you hear Tack now quietly mourning that it will only ever smell nice for poor Orchid under his breath. Orchid snarls back at him to shut up, saying that that was a cheap shot. He can be plenty mature! He is so fuckin' mature, thank you! 

“If you're talking about your language and your choice of reading material, sure… Now pipe down, both of you. Don't be rude to Gi!” Suds mutters, wagging his head disapprovingly of both brothers’ behaviors. “Sorry about them…” 

Gi offers only an impish smile, finding humor in the brothers’ bickering. “It won't work for Mir. But, it would work for you, Arcadia, and Wolffe.” she adds with a nod, offering him his own bundle of anthos incense. “I will make some for your brothers, too. If they are interested.”

“That’s very kind of you, Gi.” Wolffe answers as he pockets his own bundle beside General Plo’s, nodding to show his gratitude for the generosity of your hosts here. The members of their community that were once cold and standoffish before to the battalion have since thawed out some more, making further offers to show elements of their culture, their homeland here with you as off-worlders. 

We’re all just the universe trying to make sense of itself. Shouldn’t that be enough to unify us? Wouldn’t it be nice if that was all it took? 

No. Unfortunately the galaxy was just far too vast for that optimism, that sweet naivete. It would never be enough to settle the differences in Republic or Separatist opinion. 

It would never be enough to bring back Wolffe’s lost brothers, either.

Brothers he forever carries in his heart no matter if he knew them in maroon or gray. Five hundred seventy-four brothers were lost in the Battle of Abregado. As was the original Triumphant: the new flagship is unofficially filed as the Triumphant II, for the time being. If only you had the appropriate leverage to do it (or maybe you talked to enough of his brothers to rally them around the idea) you would propose Resiliency for the Star Destroyer’s new name to honor Commander Wolffe’s inspiring refusal to be deterred from his service, his duty, his creed of brotherhood and loyalty. 

It’s a lovely thought anyway.

One for another time. There’s still so much to do tonight. Gi’s still making bundles of incense for members of the Wolfpack, but there’s been offerings from the Chossi to show more of their homeland, and what they accomplish under the light of the moon as a nocturnal culture. Children Mir’s age are willing to share star stories, naming various constellations you can see when you look in the gaps of the leafy canopy of their community homes. (They’re calling it star-sowing, which sounds adorable.) Children Gi’s age have simple chores to do, and several of Wolffe’s men offer their hands in aid. 

Already, a few have assembled themselves in groups, rather like the squads they’re familiar with, and are ready to “report” to the youth of the Chossi. One rookie admits he doesn’t know what ground-squash looks like, but he’s willing to help with harvesting the ripe ones. They’ve spent all day relaxing. And though they spend more days than not getting their hands dirty, it’s from things like droid oil, and soot, oftentimes blood. Getting a bit of dirt on their hands while digging through a communal vegetable patch? Yes, that’s technically work on a day their General took them here to relax, but it’s relaxing compared to what they normally do.

“Might be the only time we get to dig holes we don’t have to fill back up.” another soldier says with a shrug, deciding he’ll join in after taking anthos incense from Gi. “Wait up, guys!”

“What did he mean by that?” you ask, half turning to Wolffe after noticing his eyes becoming half-lidded in thought. 

“Graves, most likely.” A stiff shrug is offered, showing he’s not sure himself. “Don’t trouble yourself with it.”

Tack, having eaten his hash-sah fruit while you’d been distracted, butts into the conversation between you and the commander before it grows any more grim. “You really got to try the fruit, Commander; it’s delicious. Arcadia’s should be big enough to share.” He can show you how to eat it, too, since it’s best to hold it by the soft rind, otherwise you’ll end up a bit of a mess like Orchid. 

“Ah shit, got my gloves and damn vambraces all fuckin’ sticky.”

Soapsuds hisses for him to be better. “Cool it, fresher-mouth!” he’s displeased that his brother’s not minding his tongue with so many little ones around. The little girl from earlier he’s given his chocolate to still hasn’t let go, for the most part; he’d rather not have one of his brothers prove a bad influence in her galactic vocabulary. 

You agree to get the large hash-sah fruit from amongst the things in your bag, gingerly extracting it when the flint-gray commander takes note of the time and suggests you need something to eat. If you’d returned to the Jedi cruiser with the rest of the crew, you’d probably have gotten dinner long before now. “Can’t have you going hungry, Arcadia.” Wolffe says, another instance of it being more than a suggestion. 

It’s a veiled request.

Afterwards, perhaps together, you can find something more to do. This time it is a suggestion. 

You figure anything will work, so long as it means he’s not about to start patrolling the perimeter of this community like he had in the clearing. You’ll count it as relaxing if you could get him to at least sit while he frets about his brothers. Especially if the brother within his sight is a shiny, thinking back to how he had asked if you could tell who among them were freshest out of the tube while working on his own sketch. 

Teeth and claws.

You really have to apply a firm grip on the soft rind of the hash-sah fruit in order to keep it from slipping out of your fingers once Tack’s gotten it divided equally between you and the commander, nails biting into the outer shell and leaving deep ruts as the juice runs between your fingers. 

“Stars above, scarcely started and I’m already wet…” you say as it drips into the lap of your uniform, catching the lewd innuendo far too late. “Orchid, don’t even.” 

He gives you a smile, but nothing more. 

“I mean it.” you warn him.

Laughing, Orchid now holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Can I at least ask if you think the fruit’s good?”

The commander's opinion of the local produce comes quietly before you answer his brother. ”It’s not rations.” Neither negative or positive, merely neutral. If he finds it bitter, or sweet, or savory, he doesn’t share. It’s simply not rations. 

“‘Anything’s better than rations’, I know. But is it good, Commander?”

Wolffe gives it a moment of thought. “It’s… like eating sweetened rainwater.” 

It doesn’t make much sense, but no one can figure out a way to argue against his description either. The matter gets chalked up to sitting near the fire for too long where Gi had been hard at work wrapping clusters of twenty-seven petals and leaves of a plant responsible for encouraging a person’s creativity and inspiration. 

It’s the pollen talking, you all reason amongst yourselves.

You and Commander Wolffe part ways for a short time, Plo Koon begging for your forgiveness as he explained (a little vaguely) that Wolffe was needed for something Dara had remembered, something they had forgotten to do around the ceremonial welcoming fire. After you had finished your portion of the hash-sah and cleaned your hands best you’d been able of the juices, someone had been by with more trinkets for the battalion to take with them if they wished. Leather bracelets of sorts with three beads of hammered copper, meant to be worn on the dominant arm. 

That’s when Dara remembered there was something special that was meant to be offered. It’s nothing Wolffe or the Jedi have to take, but as a culture that values their generosity, she and the rest of the elders feel it’s important to at least show it. Best guess anyone has is it’s likely some kind of clothing unique to the planet. Maybe art. 

“It would be impolite to refuse without seeing it first, General.” Wolffe agrees with the Kel Dor after briefly conferring with Kwill for the best course of action. He promises to come find you later. If it’s permitted by the elders, he’ll have Kwill take images of the offering in the event it’s something they feel they can’t (or won’t) take, so you can see it. 

“Don’t worry about me.” you promise, feeling safe between his DeeCee in your belt, and the familiarity in the company of his brothers. Though you are a lamb among so many wolves as a civilian, you couldn’t be safer. “I’ll find something to pass the time, General.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Arcadia.” Plo Koon replies kindly, dipping his head into a respectful bow of thanks. 

You’re not sure if it’s a Jedi thing, or a him thing, but you find yourself mirroring the motion this time. Respect earned, respect returned. 

He and Commander Wolffe shouldn’t be gone terribly long with the elders, so you decide to stay relatively close to where he’d departed from you just for now. Your head feels a little clearer than before, distanced from the incense where those stirring feelings had distracted you before. 

Twilight troubles, named for the harm they can do, could be simultaneously helpful. Funny how there’s so many things like that in this galaxy: good things, even good people, with intimidating names.

You’ve met a few troopers with hard, edgy names, their hearts softer than tooka fur. There’d been no bristle or frigid shoulders from men named Bane or Dukes or even a Bonesaw like your co-workers had warned you to steer clear of, what feels very long ago now, when you were very new to the job. They’d been the ones to help you navigate the durasteel halls while you learned where to go, what your duties were, your first few days. There’d been a Scuffle, too, who helped you, even at great inconvenience to himself. (Curiously, his armor bore some paint in sap green. Had he been transferred from a different unit?) Each had called you a rookie, but it was more of a casual, almost affectionate sort of thing, when they offered you their help. 

Here, sir, helped your lost rookie find their way. Got a little turned around in the halls. (Hey. Don’t worry, Arcadia, you’ll learn your way around in no time.)

Clones look so similar at first glance, a sea of sameness and uniformity. But you know better. These brave men are not wholly made of justs and sameness - a Clone who’s been invited to try his hand at throwing at a foot-pedal pottery wheel may have the same fingerprints as a million other brothers, just another Clone made in the after-image of a dead warrior, but his mark in this galaxy is unique because he is the one who put it there as the iron-rich clay squishes between his fingers in his first attempt. He laughs it off as the Chossi woman showing him how to throw encourages him to try again. 

“Well that’s certainly one way to get a feel for the clay!”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” she chuckles while she helps him start again. 

Trying again, he makes a concentrated effort not to immediately squish and squelch the red earth-matter, experimentally scooping into the mound she’s made to try pulling it outwards, like she showed him. Clones are remarkably fast learners, no matter if the result is a bit messy. Specks of clay plip against his stark white armor after he adds a bit too much water, distracted by Sergeant Boost joining the crowd of on-lookers. 

“Waiting here for the Commander, Arcadia?”

Answering somewhat to the affirmative, you tell him you’re mostly just looking around. “Just watching Lasher at the wheel for now, really.” Lasher’s having a good time, and watching the veteran ceramics at work is kinda mesmerizing. 

While you’re distracted, Sinker sweeps up Orchid, Tack and Soapsuds behind you, urging them to be silent. You’re none the wiser.

“Thinking you might add pottery to your list of talents?” Boost asks, teasing lightly. 

You roll your eyes, a sarcastic lilt in your voice. “Yeah sure, if I can find somewhere to squeeze it in between all the poetry and painting and woodworking and a thousand other things I’ve ever wanted to try my hands at with my precious free time since I’m just swimming in credits.”

“Hah,” Boost laughs, bobbing his head both knowingly and sympathetically, “Probably a good thing Clones don’t exactly come by much in the way of credits. There’d be too many half-used hobby kits lying around the cruiser.” 

While you’re asking him where Clones do get the credits for things like the popular Clone bar on Coruscant, Sinker is trying to persuade one of his brothers to do something for him to little success. “Please? It can’t be me or Boost.” It needs to be one of the younger brothers of the battalion who does this. He’ll sweeten the pot if need be, if it convinces them. “A dirty holomag. Round of drinks at 79’s. We won’t make you clean the gunships. Something.” 

“You had me at dirty holomag.” Orchid answers, grinning as he gleefully rubs his hands together. “What do you need me to do?”

Sithspit he didn’t actually have one on hand back at the cruiser, but he knows how to get one. That's a problem for later. “Listen carefully, when the Commander gets back-” Sinker begins, casting a careful look over his shoulder to make sure Boost still had you properly distracted. The two of you are making idle chatter, still. Sounds like Boost has you talking about potentially going back to the gathering fire with him later, where the inviting blaze would keep you warm in spite of the night’s chill. Just in case Commander Wolffe ends up being a while. 

You’re hemming and hawing about it, admitting you’re not sure just yet, but it’s kind of him to offer in the spirit of the oft-shared sentiment from the inhabitants of Little Archossi the Jedi, Clones and you are the humble guests of tonight. 

More friends the merrier. All are welcome under our shared skies. 

“Sure, no problem Arcadia,” Sergeant Boost says agreeably, “Night looks promising to have a lot of excitement still, so I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to - oh, I dunno - step back for a bit and find somewhere quiet. It is pretty late.”

Or, early, rather. It had been well past 1:00 when last you looked at a chronometer, putting you an hour into a new day. It’s probably 2 or even 3:00 am by now. It could be another three hours before dawn, give or take. You’re definitely not getting any sleep tonight, but you may at least need to rest. (You may need a lot of caf to get through the day when you get back to the cruiser.)

There’s a tree not far from here that seems a little more isolated at the edge of the settlement, Boost pointing it out to you when you say you think it might be a good idea, so it may be a good place to rest and work on another of your sketches if you want. 

“Thanks Boost. I think I might.”

From here, the activity and chatter of the settlement has fallen away into a comfortable lull of background noise, punctuated with hearty laughter and dramatic sound effects used by the troopers to spice up their storytelling. In the cold glow of the moon, you could once more study the artwork Wolffe had made of you while you twirled one of the coloring pencils in your hand absentmindedly. 

Color it however you like. 

Trouble is, you keep changing your mind, or run into complications. First you thought about choosing your favorite color, but the end of the pencil was too dull and you couldn’t find a sharpener among your things to remedy that. (How did you not have a sharpener?) Then you thought about coloring yourself in maroon too, the end still plenty sharp, but putting yourself in such a significant color to the history of the battalion felt… strange. Like maybe you felt you weren’t worthy of it. You’ve gone through a few more colors in your bag, putting away one and pulling out another, but you can never seem to bring yourself to put the pencil to paper. 

A rhythmic sound coming from the community, like the beating of a heart, pauses your skylane of thought for a moment. Growing louder, closer, you realize its two sets of boots tromping down the path, one heavy and deliberate to combat the other’s backpedaling. 

“Orchid, what is the meaning of this?!” Commander Wolffe demands at last, realizing his brother isn’t going to stop for anything, not even the threat of refresher and gunship duty. His brother only marches him further and further through the dark pathway where the crowns of the trees keep all the light for themselves. A datapad clipped to his hip rapidly knocks against the plastoid at the pace they’re going. “Let me go, or tell me what’s going on!” 

“Respectfully, Commander,” Orchid begins in a voice that leaves no room for interruption, “it’s time for you to stop circling the gunships and get to the hangar already!” He gives Commander Wolffe a firm shove from behind, sending the man a half-step forward into your small circle of light with a mischievous cackle. “Don’t worry about the rest of the battalion for the night, we’ve got it covered with the General!”

It’s now coming together for Wolffe, piece by piece. “... Boost and Sinker put you up to this, didn’t they?”

“Not quite, Commander. But they know I’ve got just enough younger brother privileges to still get away with this.” Orchid replies with a shit-eating grin, pleased with himself. 

“I’m putting all three of you-”

“Yeah, we’ve got it covered Commander! Have fun!” Orchid calls back over his shoulder as he retreats into the boundaries of the Chossi community. “Elder Row says don’t go any farther than the fifth cairn stack!”

Have fun? Fifth cairn stack?

Gulping back some nervousness, you apologize to the commander. “I’m so sorry that they’re… Well, I don’t even know what. I’m just as much in the dark as you, actually.” You’re not sure what Sinker or Boost had planned, or how exactly Orchid got involved in it, but you’re positive it’s giving Wolffe a headache. “I… might have a theory though.”

“... what?” Wolffe dares to ask, hesitant. 

“Sergeant Sinker told me earlier that I… s-seem to be having better luck than them when it comes to encouraging you to relax, so it’s… part of the reason I keep offering to keep you company.”

He stares at you in silence, contemplating perhaps, but it’s more likely that he’s working up something to say. 

Instead he sighs. “Hmm.” 

Putting your things to the side, you climb to your feet and dust off the seat of your pants, unsure if you should approach him when he’s currently clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. It doesn’t seem to be a completely conscious action as he finally drops his gaze and sighs once more. 

“Damn him.” comes the bitter grumble, a regretful expression cracking the commander’s stoic shell. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have started to lose my temper with-” Swallowing back the rest of the sentence with some difficulty, Wolffe looks at his feet instead, registering just how far he is from the settlement now, too. Sometimes, he finds himself forgetting just how strong the youngest troopers are. 

He’s been in this war for so long now, it feels, that trying to remember his own days fresh off Kamino proves a struggle. He used to be one of the four marshal commanders of the Grand Army, but the man you’ve gotten to know today is just a commander now. 

Wolffe notices something below his left boot just as you find your voice. 

“Wolffe? Are you okay?”

Your concern is touching. “I’m fine now, Arcadia.” he promises, pulling back his foot as he stoops to see what it is. Ah. Must have stepped on one of the Dinocaeruleus anthos after Orchid pushed him. (Anger and annoyance has been replaced with pride for that little pain in the ass.) He plucks the terrible blue flower with smashed petals from its home in the soil, looking regretful. Sorry little thing. He hadn't meant to trod over it. 

“What did Gi say these were called again?” he asks you, thinking to tuck the ruined blossom in his utility belt until he can find Tack. (Maybe even a ruined specimen can serve the researcher, in some way, he hopes.)

“Twilight troubles.” you answer, your voice softer than the gentle breeze. 

His head dips with a thoughtful nod as he plucks the neighboring, uncrushed flower too, “... come here.” Commander Wolffe requests in that golden tone that sends shivers down your spine. Close enough for his liking, Wolffe finds some buttonhole in your uniform to thread the stem through, adorning you with further tokens. “A little more color to catch the moonlight.” 

The stitched, gray wolf head with thread in your favorite color for the eyes was the only addition that graced your uniform just this morning. Now, there was the long leather cord of three copper beads wrapped around your wrist, and the Dinocaeruleus anthos - a delicate and beautiful galaxy when kissed by the rays of the moon - in the buttonhole to your breast pocket. 

“There,” Wolffe says decidedly, “think suits you rather well, Arcadia.” There’s a glimmer of moonlight reflected in the surface of his cybernetic eye, the cold and delicate beauty of it serves for a lure. You’re staring, and he can tell. 

He turns his face from you, eyes growing half-lidded. “Looks strange in the moonlight, doesn’t it?” The murmur is bashful, or perhaps more accurately, more self-conscious. Funny, you’ve never believed Commander Wolffe to be in any way conscious of his appearance like this in all the time you’ve been aboard the Triumphant. Never for a moment would you have pegged him to harbor insecurities, until today and all the many opportunities he has left himself vulnerable under your sight. 

Been permitted to know him better.

He’s allowed himself to be pulled apart, scrutinized and examined all so you can continually paint him with your praises, making your promises that you see him for the whole of the man he is. Beyond the flint. Beyond the designation number. Beyond his status as a commander, or simply just yet another rain-soaked son of Kamino. To you he is not Kaminoan or even Republic property, a mere product ten years in the making, a culmination of what a good, dutiful soldier was imagined to be and nothing further. No. You’ve witnessed too much today to pretend otherwise. 

He’s so much more.

“No. Strange isn’t the word I’d use.” you reply with a somber edge in your voice, “It’s… brighter in the moonlight. Like… like it becomes a beacon of light. Or a moon of its own.”

Instance after instance, you continue to impress Wolffe. Stump him repeatedly. Just when he thinks you can’t possibly offer yet more worshiping words, you conjure more. You’ve never seen him painted in the aching pains of rage that come in the heat of battle, but your tongue lifts only in reverence when you speak of his once-maroon paint and the phase one helmet. You’ve witnessed the hands that comforted and guided his brothers today, the very same hands that show a readiness in drawing his weapon today or any other day; never once did you shy away from such displays. You looked on in awe, instead. Or fear, not for yourself, but for him. 

He hums low in his throat. “Sounds like pollen-talk.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s not. But would you believe me no less if it was, Wolffe?”

“‘Sounds like’ is not the same thing as ‘that is’, Arcadia.” the commander informs you, clarifying his meaning with a soft voice like hissing cinders. “But I never meant to imply I did not believe you…” Of course he believes you. You’ve proven your respect for him today, instance after repeated instance. 

It’s time he showed you more of the same respect in kind. You’ve been… so selfless, and kind, in giving him your time today. You could have told him to fuck off when he got in the way of the tree you’d been drawing, and you didn’t. You didn’t have to keep him company when Plo Koon had gone scouting, but you had. And you chose to remain behind when the rest of the crew left. How better can he repay all of that than to be honest with you?

Hoping he comes across in earnest, he meets your eye. “I would still believe you, even if it was from the flowers, because it’s you talking.” Wolffe promises. 

Now alone, fully isolated from his brothers rather than surrounded on all sides like so much of today, both you and the commander grow bolder, speaking freer than when you find yourself in the midst of the wolves. “Earlier: what was it that Waves said?” you ask, setting your things down now that you’re out of visual range of the battalion. 

Steeling himself with a long draught of his canteen first, Wolffe does not immediately meet your eye. He had taken you a little further away from the edge of the settlement, fearing his brothers would repeatedly come to gawk at the pair of you. What he says next, paired with the location, should be cautious. He’s aware of what it looks like. 

“Orchid seemed - seems…? - to think you'll have my privates standing at attention before morning, as a way to get me to relax, the next time we were alone.” 

It's exactly as you suspected, a sexual innuendo.

Both you and the commander break eye contact with the other at the same time. Yeah. You know exactly what the 104th will think when they learn that you two snuck off alone, staying within the boundaries of the third and fourth cairns - rock formations a whole head taller than Wolffe - in order to get a little alone time. 

“Permission to turn him into flower food, sir?” you request half-sarcastically with a deep groan, face in your hands. Did Orchid get that idea from his choice of reading material? Was the clever if crude play on words involving military rank and one's genitalia something he found on the Holonet? You and the commander… you barely know each other, let alone-! “Fucking hell… I think I’m gonna kill him.”

“He’ll wish you had after a week of fresher duty,” Wolffe says with a mild laugh, now offering you the canteen. “But I’m afraid the general and I need that little pain in the ass in one piece.” 

You chuckle. “Spoil-sport…” With not much in the canteen, you take a small drink with the intention of conserving some for later. The rest of the water was for you, he had said. You thank him after setting the canteen beside your bag, where you once more pull out your sketchbook as well as the second datapad you had offered to carry. When Orchid had shoved the flint-gray commander, the force combined with the weight of the datapad had compromised the clip holding it to Wolffe’s belt. At least that was going to be an easy part to replace. 

“So before I forget… what did Solladara want to show you and General Plo?”

Finding the pictures, Wolffe shows you the items, “Artwork of the clearing, where they found us. And… this.” It looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of shirt, but the material is surprisingly transparent. “You can understand why we accepted only the artwork, I’m sure.” Wolffe adds, shaking his head with a soft laugh as your eyes roam the image, trying to picture him in it while he mentions he’s going to try to get a small fire going to stave off the chill of the night. There’s a shallow pit, kindling and firewood that you can use here already, to your good fortune.

“I’m almost tempted to draw you again, wearing that Chossi attire that was offered to you this time.” you admit with a splitting smile, twirling the 2-besh pencil in your hand teasingly as you continue to study the image.  

You’re not really going to draw him in it, knowing that it’d leave very little to the imagination with a body type like the commander’s. He’s not slender in the same way the peoples of Little Archossi are, certainly much broader, and with well-defined muscle… Well. 

There was no way such a thing would be appropriate to wear anywhere other than the privacy of his own quarters. You’ll end up making the man look like a pin-up model in a state of semi-undress.

Wolffe clears his throat meaningfully. “You really should rest your wrist. I think you’ve drawn enough for the night, Arcadia.” Stretching out his hand, he silently beckons for the sketchbook to be turned over to him once he’s gotten the fire going. 

“Seriously?” You’re less than impressed with him for the moment, and it shows. You want to be touched that he’s concerned about your comfort, but him acting like a parent or other figure of guardianship in your life taking something away because you’ll misbehave with it in your possession is not the way to go about it. “I think I’m capable of showing some restraint on my own, thanks.”

Wolffe gives an unpleasant twitch when he realizes how this looks. How he believes he’s offended you. “I didn’t mean to imply that- Yes of course you are, Arcadia, you’ve proven that. I only wanted to ask to see it for a moment. I’m sorry.”

Oh. 

Oh Maker. Talk about a total overreaction when you don’t have all the facts. 

You hand him the spiral bound, eyes turned away. “I’m sorry. For assuming, and overreacting like that. I shouldn’t have.” The apology comes out in a strained voice, far more choked than you’d like. There are a million half-formed thoughts racing over your tongue right now that will never make it past your lips. You do not trust any single one will be coherent when it’s clarity you feel he deserves. “I think… I think after being around all this creativity-boosting pollen today it kind of just left me… wondering where all the thoughts begin and end.”

“Do you think you need a minute?”

“Yes…” you admit slowly. Wolffe starts to climb to his feet and panic begins to bubble up in your chest. “B-but I’d like you to stay! I’m not asking you to leave.” You don’t want him to leave, because you don’t know when he’ll come back, or if you feel this is worth potentially troubling a medic over. 

He listens, and he stays. The distance between you however, has changed. Wolffe’s put himself much closer to you now. Previously at arm’s length, he’s now close enough to lean against. He has the sketchbook in his hands, flipped open to that page of you in uncolored armor, but it’s you that he studies. In his quiet observance, Wolffe’s expression changes several times in the fluttering firelight, each change gradual and small. Softening brow. Pursing lips. Eyes full and fixed. 

“You’re a hard man to read sometimes, Commander Wolffe.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to say it, or how he’ll take it after what just happened, but maybe he’ll appreciate knowing what’s on your mind. “I think it makes me nervous. Sometimes.”

You know he doesn’t mean to. But you can’t help the way you feel either.

“I don’t doubt that, Arcadia.” 

He’s sorry that he makes you nervous, as well, Wolffe adds. Of course it isn’t his intention. Of course he understands that feeling this way can’t be helped sometimes either. He’s familiar with that feeling and its cousins. Nervousness and dread. You’ve seen enough proof of it today. The pacing. Safety drills. Lecturing Suds. Arguing with his sergeants. Throwing himself over you to keep you safe. 

Without hesitation. Like you were one of his own brothers… 

“Hey, um-” you start, glancing over at your sketchbook, “H-how’d you draw me so quickly? Can’t just have been ‘inspiration’.” It’s not the question you want to ask first when you disturb the curtain of silence, but it’ll serve as a good starting block.

Commander Wolffe gives you a small, guarded smile. “The idea is to be quick when you’re drawing outdoors, is it not? That’s what you said to me this morning.”

Oh the utter cheek in that reply - whether it was intended or coincidental - could drive someone wild were there not so many questions on your mind. And there’s just so much. 

“Force, I… I almost forgot I’d said that, in all honesty.” you admit a bit numbly, staring ahead into the dark sea of foliage. “You- Well no, you remembering that would make sense. I guess I should be more surprised by how much detail you captured in so short a time.” 

Muttering something to himself in thought, he repeats the word detail several times before coming to an important decision. 

Commander Wolffe's hand darts into the low fire pit, snatching out a charred hunk of wood. As you're wondering what the hell's gotten into him, if he's burned his hand through the gloves, he takes the art book in his opposite hand and flips it to his sketch of you. Sort of tickling the page with one end of the charred wood, Wolffe is carefully smearing the appropriate areas of the armor with ashes, blowing away the excess once he's done. 

“That takes care of gray missing from all of the coloring pencils.” He nods once, stiffly, satisfied with his ingenuity. “Now you truly look the part.” 

Look the part? But you're just drawn in Clone armor and colored in gray, just like the 104th battalion. What's so special about-?

Oh, Force. Oh galaxy and all her stars…

Commander Wolffe means you look like the rest of the one-oh-fourth, that you fit in. 

“Are you saying that…?” 

Osk-nern-esk

The eyebrow above his cybernetic eye lifts just so, nearly missed in the flickering firelight. “Use your words, Arcadia.” he teases. 

Osk-forn

“A-are you saying that I’m… b-but I'm just part of the crew!” you insist, certain that he's not serious about this. He can't truly mean what he's been writing, word by word beneath the first mantra. 

Trill-hesh-esk

“But you are, Arcadia. You're one of us.” Wolffe promises, voice low and reverent. “The 104th would not be the same without you. Not after what I've seen… felt today.” 

Wesk-osk-leth-vev-esk-senth

ONE OF THE WOLVES.

Whether they were still the magnificent maroons of the past, or the grizzled grays of today, you have been added among the names - the number perhaps thousands or more - of his brothers that he will forever carry in his beating heart, forevermore his wolves. This is a silent oath that when he fights for the glory of the Republic and the downfall of the Separatists, he’s doing so for his general, for his brothers, and for you.

For good measure, Wolffe scribbles down his rank and name, bringing the end to the work on his magnum opus with a signature. It's only fitting. Here, at this private fireside, he lays his heart and intentions bare to you. “I’m probably about as poetic as a gargled mouthful of Aurebesh soup, but Arcadia… while I know you well enough to consider you one of the Wolfpack, I'd… I'd like to ask if you'd be opposed to getting to know you better. As new friends do, first, perhaps, or…”

You blink once, maybe five times before finding your voice. Friends. In his own way, he confirmed you were friends. “I wouldn't be opposed at all… I-I’d be happy to, even.” 

You're nearly breathless, heart racing a thousand kilometers an hour, just short of warp speed. 

Does the slight stress to “or” mean he's grappling with other feelings about you on his mind, like you do for him? The love versus limerence? 

“As friends is a… good place to start.” you offer additionally, matching that tender, relieved smile he shows you. 

“Have to start somewhere, Arcadia,” the Commander replies plainly, trying to appeal to his and your own sense of logic perhaps. “Just to make certain of any… feelings.” 

Taking you under his arm, against his side, Wolffe is content with waiting out the remainder of the night under the curtain of stars for the sky to lighten and give way to another glorious, golden dawn. The 104th will depart for the Triumphant at daybreak, and the war efforts will resume as normal. You just hope Plo Koon cooks up a satisfactory excuse in the event someone asks him what happened today. (Or, technically yesterday. (What time is it?)) For all you know, nobody will ever ask or care to know, or it'll be decided what happened on Little Archossi is by-and-large an unspoken secret. 

Which would kind of be a shame. 

It'd be terrible to keep the day you became friends with the flint-gray Commander under wraps, never get to explain the truth behind him coated in maroon while you're in gray in the pages of your sketchbook. Never be able to explain the full context of meeting the Chossi, or what they've taught everyone. 

Or how, murmured under his breath into the shell of your ear after the stars begin melting into the backdrop at long last, Commander Wolffe admits that perhaps for once, he's never been more relaxed since the start of the war.

That's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who read this series; I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this.🩷If you would like to be join my taglist for future fics, the form can be found here.

Tag list: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar

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