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misguidedswagger · 24 days ago

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little dove (anakin skywalker x reader angst)

a/n: hi! welcome to my first anakin fic! i saw that he won the poll so im ngl i hit the bowl and closed my eyes for a second and now we have this!!! this was originally based off a prompt: "why are you lying to me?" and it ended up taking me about four days to complete this! i really really hope you guys enjoy this! this has become my favorite piece i've ever written. lmk if you'd like to see more <3 warnings: f!reader, angst, swearing, padmé is NOT nice in this, god forgive me i'm so sorry padmé. it hurt my heart to write her in such a way lowkey , forbidden romance, broken promises,

masterlist

w/c:8.5k

“little…dove?”

“i think it suits you. don’t you realize the symbolism of doves?”

“i’m afraid that i don’t, master.”

“to me, my young padawan, you represent peace, love, and freedom: some things i’m afraid the galaxy is lacking.”

—

y/n was laying on anakin’s lap and feeding him grapes on her balcony, the duo basking in the sun’s warmth together. neither one spoke, more than comfortable in the silence of each other. their shared time together had become habitual, but only recently did the pair realize that they felt more towards each other, more than simply padawan and master.

the sun shined brightly through anakin’s hair, the sun illuminating his blond curls and almost making them appear golden. streaks of sunshine broke through anakin’s loose curls, highlighting y/n’s beautiful e/c eyes in the bright sunshine. y/n lost herself in the jedi’s features for a moment, unable to form any other coherent thoughts besides wow, entirely unaware that anakin was thinking the same about her.

"what? is something on my face?" his voice a low rumble, disturbing y/n from her reverie, that signature smirk of his spread wide across his cheeks. she only smiled warmly in reply before speaking,

"beauty." it was y/n’s turn to smirk now, at the sight of anakin's cheeks flushing pink right before her eyes. it was the cutest thing y/n had ever seen and she wanted to be sure to commit the sight to memory. “you’d think the almighty chosen one would recognize my honesty through the force,” y/n teased, lightly prodding anakin’s chest, still adjusting to his new uniform.

anakin leaned down and kissed y/n’s hand that held the grapes softly, before stealing the grape from her fingers with his lips, eliciting a soft giggle from the padawan. “I think you might be feeling under the weather if you truly believe that,” anakin teased back lightheartedly.

a familiar sequence of beeps and boops interrupted y/n before she could reply, watching as the droid that was always at anakin’s side approached the two from inside the woman’s quarters. it had been on y/n’s to do list to commit herself to fluently learning binary, but alas, she once again had to turn to her master for the translation of what r2 said, just as always.

with a loud groan, anakin’s head dropped and his body nearly folded in half, his arms wrapping around y/n tighter so as to not knock her over from the sudden influx of weight she had to bear. based on his annoyance, y/n frowned and finally replied,

“you’re being summoned again, aren’t you?” y/n spoke, the frown on her face only deepening upon noticing anakin’s subtle nod. she pushed the jedi upward off herself, sitting up to give him a tight hug. she forced herself to smile hopefully as she spoke, reaching a hand up to push a stray, golden curl behind his ear, “will i see you later?”

“of course you will, my little dove. i’ll be back before you even know it, then we can have a lovely dinner together before evening training.” anakin promised before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, his gloved, metal hand on the back of her head to maintain some semblance of intimacy as long as he could. y/n closed her eyes and enjoyed anakin’s presence while she had it, leaning into his touch.

“i hate having to hide how much i love you, ani.” y/n said dejectedly, hoping that she'd finally be able to hear the words from him. anakin starting to rub the apples of her cheeks in a soothing manner, his gaze softening as the pad of his thumb continued to rub comforting circles on y/n’s cheek. the nickname she’d created for him made his heart skip a beat, his smile only widening.

“i promise you’ll see me later, okay?” y/n reluctantly motioned to stand with a soft nod, watching as her master stood. anakin extended his hand to help y/n stand, the woman gladly taking any opportunity to touch her secret lover and master.

y/n tugged anakin down by his shoulders, her hands resting on his new armor. she let her fingers run over the plate, in awe of anakin and his achievements. he never failed to disappoint or surprise her.

“i don’t think i ever had the chance to tell you, but i’m so proud of you for becoming a general, master. i knew you could do it. i can’t wait for what’s to come.” y/n said, a warm smile across her face despite how sad she was to see him leave. she let her hands rest on the armor for a minute, her eyes meeting his. she looked into those bright blue eyes of his, feeling herself melt into a puddle at that gaze, the one reserved for her.

anakin only smiled, pulling y/n into his arms, holding her tight—-so tight that it seemed like she would float away if he let up in the slightest. y/n pulled away slightly to hold the general’s face in her hands, connecting his lips with her own.

—

y/n was in her bedroom, pacing back and forth anxiously. even when he couldn’t immediately return to her, she always heard when anakin left and returned from missions, whether it was through 3po, r2, or gods, even obi-wan! it was driving her more than a little insane crazy that it was deep into the hours of the early morning and she’d heard nothing from her anakin. he promised that’d he’d be back in time to have a nice dinner with her before their nightly training, yet here she was, pacing back and forth, alone, in the darkness of her quarters.

the walls felt suffocating, as if she were confined in them. y/n felt her master’s presence on the planet, but she hadn’t heard from him. was he hiding from me? she couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts that had begun to swirl in her mind and abdomen, anxious nausea filling her body. no. she reminded herself, closing her eyes to steady her thoughts. she forced herself to remember her training, how to balance emotions as they came and letting them go before they fester after acknowledgment. it was beyond difficult and her optimism was starting to lose its spark, despite her hopeful nature wanting to assume this was simply anakin testing her. she was fighting herself to not spiral, which was seeming to be a difficult battle for the young padawan.

arguably, the worst part of being in a secret relationship with anakin was how y/n could never openly be his. she could never be whisked away on dates, never be kissed or hugged in public, she would only ever be viewed as general anakin skywalker’s padawan. she was a secret as far as she was concerned. the anxious thoughts continued to violate her mind before a memory from before she began her training with the general hit the back of her eyelids,

“y/n, trust me! being my lady in waiting would be so much fun! you wouldn’t have to do anywhere near as much as you’d think! you could leave behind all the fighting and rough housing, you could live lavishly with me! can’t you imagine how great it would be to have an official position next to your best friend? especially as a force-sensitive person, oh you’d be perfect, a force to be reckoned with.” padmé held y/n’s hands tightly, her eyes searching her best friend’s for what emotion she was feeling. “can’t you just imagine it?!” the older encouraged excitedly, her grip on y/n’s hands tightening ever so slightly before her expression faltered at the sight of y/n not sharing her reaction. “i’ve gathered more of an understanding of how things work after a full term as queen, and y/n, i feel you would really thrive by my side.”

“padmé, it’s not that i don’t wish to be your lady in waiting, really, I think it’d be grand, but, how i wish you’d asked me just a day sooner. as of yesterday, i’ve been invited to become general skywalker’s padawan.” y/n admitted, the excitement in her eyes prompting a storm of emotion in the queen. but, instead of speaking her mind, like she always did, padmé decided to withhold her true opinion, unbeknownst to her best friend. the queen forced a smile, remembering the day she’d met skywalker as a padawan, the day her own life had changed and he had stolen her heart.

jealousy coursed through the queen’s blood for the first time in her life. she’d never envied anyone, nor had she ever acted in her own self interest. it almost hurt her to be jealous of y/n, someone she’d known longer than she’d been queen of naboo, her childhood best friend. padmé’s mind raced with thoughts she knew she shouldn’t have had and instead of stopping them, for once, she let herself be selfish and indulge in them.

“wow, y/n! i’m so excited for you! the general is truly one of the most lovely jedi i’ve ever met. you’re going to become one of the strongest there are, especially at anakin’s side!” padmé wrapped her arms around y/n, her grip similar to that of a fully grown python. “i’m so proud of you, y/n/n.”

y/n smiled, squeezing the queen back tightly, relieved that her friend wasn’t upset at her. “ to tell you the truth, i’m ecstatic about this opportunity. thank you for being so understanding about this, padmé.” y/n spoke, her relief palpable. the queen’s grip only tightened at her thanks, a smirk making its way onto her face as she rested her chin on y/n’s shoulder.

“you have nothing to thank me for, y/n. i promise.”

as the memory faded away from the forefront of her mind, y/n had half a mind to close her eyes and let the force guide her to anakin, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the door swung open to reveal just the man who had been consuming her every waking hour, thoughts, and feelings.

“maker, anakin, i was so worried about you.” y/n approached her master, extending her arms in the direction of him for a hug. the general happily indulged in the contact, pulling y/n into his warm arms. she fought the urge to nuzzle her face into his chest, letting his presence alone soothe her anxiety.

“you’re shaking.” anakin observed, pulling away slightly to look into his padawan’s e/c eyes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. it was his own quiet way of telling her he expected an answer to his statement. he was worried, y/n could gather that much from his tone.

“i just missed you is all,” y/n answered a little quicker than she intended, hoping her master wouldn’t catch onto how she’d already had an answer prepared for his question.

“your words tell me one thing, yet your body language defies you. why are you lying to me, y/n?” anakin asked, nudging her chin with his forefinger and thumb, her chin balanced in the empty space in between his fingers to make her look him in the eye. his words extracted the breath in her lungs, y/n’s head hanging in shame as she realized she was caught.

“what happened tonight? why were you so late? what about our plans?” y/n fought the tremble in her voice, though she wanted nothing more than for anakin to hold her close and reassure her as she fell apart in those strong arms of his.

guilt cast over anakin’s face like a shadow, “i’m so sorry, little dove. i was escorting the queen to a…” hearing the first half of anakin’s explanation sent a wave of nausea through y/n’s body. it seemed as of lately, her best friend wanted nothing to do with her, and only her master. it made her feel sick to her stomach, especially because padmé had reassured y/n that nothing was going on between the two of them, and the girl still felt this bothered by it.

but, she saw the way padmé looked at him. it was the same way y/n looked at anakin. but, she said nothing. its not like she would jeopardize her second term as queen, just for him, right? y/n was anxious, she was only falling victim to her emotions, right? anakin would remain loyal to her, there was no way he wouldn’t.

right?

“hey.” there was anakin’s sweet voice again, ringing through the chaos of her mind, the only thing she could see and hear clearly, “tell me what’s on your mind.” anakin leaned down a bit, trying to catch y/n’s dancing gaze before ultimately sighing quietly and tilting her head to look into his eyes again.

“you left me all alone, no contact. i could feel that you were here on the planet, why didn’t you immediately tell me when you came back like always? you were late, its early morning now, and you promised to be home before dinner and our lesson. can you really blame me for being so upset, anakin?” y/n gently breathed through her emotions, remembering her training despite her anxious and heavy heart. she pulled away from anakin’s touch, electing to cross her arms over her chest instead.

the general took a step forward, grabbing y/n’s wrist and tugging her forward, spinning her into his arms before he leaned in and cupped y/n’s face. he rested his forehead against her own, his free hand on her waist, “i’m sorry for being late, my love. will you let me make it up to you?” he whispered sweetly to her, placing gentle kisses all over her face. “let me make you something to eat, then i’m all yours for the rest of the day. i promise.” anakin ran his hand through her hair gently, being careful to not tug on her hair too harshly as he awaited her answer. y/n almost melted at the action, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the calming sensation. after a few moments, before she let herself be lulled to sleep while standing, y/n finally conceded,

“fine. but make my favorite.”

—

“what do you mean you’re stepping down from a third term? padmé, the people are advocating to change the law for you to be allowed a third term–” y/n asked her best friend in disbelief, her brows knitted together tightly as she processed what padmé was saying.

“i mean, that i feel like i’d be more helpful to my people if i were involved in more of the political side of things,” she answered, her tone unnecessarily rude. it almost startled y/n, as padmé was hardly ever short with her. but then again, y/n had noticed that the nature of their relationship started to change when she had become anakin’s padawan. but there was no way that was the reason their over ten year long friendship was rocky, absolutely no way at all.

y/n reminded herself of her training once more. only siths deal in absolutes, the words of master obi-wan kenobi as fresh in her mind as the day he’d drilled them into her brain, over two years ago: an off-the-cuff comment the day she was inducted as general skywalker’s padawan.

“what’s wrong, padmé? i feel you and i have been drifting apart, especially as of your last term. you never talk to me anymore, are you okay?” y/n asked, her tone concerned as she placed a gentle hand on the queen’s senator’s shoulder, the worry in her gaze evident. y/n’s worry was soon replaced with shock and a lightning strike to the heart as she watched padmé’s previously neutral expression be overtaken with disgust at y/n’s touch.

the padawan dropped her hand as if she had been burnt from padmé’s shoulder and she forced her heart to harden. the woman stiffened as padmé finally answered her question, “perhaps we simply don’t fit into each other’s lives anymore.” padmé being uncharacteristically rude and distrusting became something y/n could no longer bear. the pain of her friendship with padmé splintering became unignorable.

“what? what are you talking about? where is this coming from?!” y/n’s eyes were widened in shock at padmé’s ‘explanation’ of her sudden coldness towards her. “padmé, this doesn’t even make sense, talk to me like we’re still those little girls picking flowers in the garden together!” y/n pleaded, taking a timid step towards her childhood friend. the poor padawan sounded like she was close to tears, a heart-wrenching contrast to the queen who wore a blank slate as her expression.

padmé only remained silent, taking a step back as y/n attempted to close the distance in between them. y/n could feel her heart shattering into smaller and smaller pieces as padmé drowned her in the sound of silence. the young padawan let her hurt fester in her chest for a moment or more, storing the pain deep inside her mind as she’d be able to use it later in her training, hating that she had to treat the loss of her life long friend as a lesson.

“p-padmé…? are you not even going to say anything at all?”

y/n couldn’t take the silence anymore, regretting all the times she’d taken her friendship with padmé for granted. after a moment, y/n finally offered a simple, single nod to padmé.

“right, then. i can clearly sense you’ve made up your mind about this. i don’t know what i did to you, or what i could’ve possibly said, but, i wish you well, padmé. i hope we can one day fix this.” with that, y/n left padmé’s room, blinking back tears that begged to be set free from the prison that were y/n’s tear ducts.

later, y/n found herself in the training room, a bead of sweat starting to form at the edges of her scalp as she practiced using the force on the heaviest weights in the room. she’d been training for nearly an hour now, and once again, anakin was nowhere to be found. she checked his quarters, the council room, and not even the council knew where he was. reluctantly, back she traversed to the training room, electing to do something useful with her time instead of anxiously pacing around her quarters for hours at a time again.

she couldn’t even stay focused on her exercises, anakin’s absence weighing on her heavier than she was comfortable admitting. for a moment, she’d zoned out, staring at the tan wall across from her as images of her and padmé growing up together raced through her mind at several miles per hour. y/n felt a strike through her chest at the loss of padmé, letting out a loud grunt as she force pulled the weights about an inch in front of her foot from across the large training room. y/n let out a noise of disbelief, shocked at her new achievement. momentarily forgetting she was the only one present in the room, she grinned and turned around. disappointment washed over her in waves, the weight heavy enough to hold her down on the ground. her master wasn’t there, he hadn’t seen how much she had been improving.

anakin sighed, annoyance starting to spread through his body. of course, last minute, as he was on his way to train with y/n, master yoda had summoned him to the council room. he entered to see mace windu, yoda, and queen padmé present. “what’s going on here? why was I summoned?” the young general asked, fully aware of the fact that he was now running late. he hoped to the force that y/n would forgive him this time.

“there has been an attempt on queen amidala’s life.” mace windu’s words resulted in anakin narrowing his eyes. the jedi’s eyes found the queen’s, surprised to find her already looking at him. anakin’s eyes found master windu’s again,

“i see...but what does that-” anakin’s question was cut short as master windu spoke over him,

“it means you are assigned to be the queen’s bodyguard until further notice. you are to tell no one where you’re going, nor are you allowed to tell anyone your mission. the less who know, the better.” anakin’s eyes widened at the thought of being separated from y/n, his heart starting to race,

“surely my padawan will be invited along so i can continue her training in the meantime, right? and besides, she and the queen are lifelong friend-” queen amidala interrupted anakin this time, another wave of displeasure washing over him at the constant interruptions,

“we are not,” anakin took notice of padmé’s tone, not liking it one bit. he thought of how y/n would speak of padmé, her attitude not matching y/n’s kind descriptions of her. once again, he narrowed his eyes,

master yoda spoke now, anakin’s heart sinking at his words, “your padawan, continue her training with master obi-wan she will. worry, you must not, in good hands will she be." anakin wanted to argue but he knew it would only push him further from his end goal. with a sigh, he turned to padmé once more,

“tell me what happened in the attempt.” anakin crossed his arms over his broad chest, not even bothering to hide his obvious displeasure over his new assignment. he had to find a way to communicate with y/n before she thought he was abandoning her and forgetting about her again.

padmé seemed to be caught off guard by anakin’s demand, obvious from the way her breath caught in her throat and the way her eyes widened ever so slightly. the queen cleared her throat delicately before speaking, “well...i was in my bed room and i saw someone aiming at me with a blaster through the window.”

“that’s it…? nothing actually happened and now i'm being given the task of protecting you-?”

“watch your tone and remember who exactly you’re speaking to, young skywalker,” windu spat angrily, shaking his head at anakin’s blatant disrespect of the queen. anakin sighed loudly at the correction, rubbing his temples as he processed what was being said to him. he finally snapped his head up after a moment,

“when do we leave? can i at least tell my padawan that i-” yet another interruption, causing anakin to nearly roll his eyes. nobody ever let him express himself, not like y/n did, and quite frankly he was growing tired of it.

“you both leave tonight, we on the other hand will let your padawan know of your surrender of her training.” windu groaned, annoyed that like always, the young skywalker questioned everything instead of a simple nod and ‘yes, master.’ anakin’s eyes widened at windu’s words,

“i can’t have her thinking i willingly abandoned her.” his brows furrowed, his body growing more and more tense. “you’ll let me at least say goodbye…” he trailed off, almost surprised he hadn’t been interrupted this time.

“i think it would only benefit you to remember that jedi are not to form attachments to anyone, general. not even their own padawan.” mace windu’s words were a warning, or maybe a challenge, anakin thought to himself, before simply turning around and storming off towards the doors of the council room. “anakin!” mace windu called after him, soon realizing it was to no avail as the young jedi only continued to walk towards the door faster with no intentions of turning around.

padmé followed after anakin, lifting her dress to jog after him. as she approached him, they exited the doors together. anakin still hadn’t turned to look at padmé until they were at their assigned ship. something felt wrong about this whole thing, but then again, when didn’t anakin question the choices of others around him?

anakin stepped into the ship padmé led him to, his mind racing as he thought of y/n, closing his eyes in an attempt to communicate with y/n through the force. as soon as he felt y/n’s energy, the ship started to take off. his eyes shot open to the sight of padmé having booted up the ship, immediately noticing she typed in the coordinates to naboo.

“hey, wait a minute, I wasn’t ready yet!” anakin argued before he realized the ship was moving already, just slightly out of range of his padawan now. it almost seemed like something was trying to keep anakin and y/n apart. anakin swore he could feel it and he suppressed a growl,

“padmé.” anakin spoke her first name, “i told you I wasn’t ready yet.” with an annoyed sigh, padmé turned to anakin,

“well, maybe if you hadn’t stormed out of the council room like that, you would’ve heard that naboo is expecting us within the hour. why are you acting like this, ani? you’re never this disagreeable about an assignment.” padmé said with a frown, her gaze attempting to peer into the windows of anakin’s soul. with a scoff, anakin broke eye contact before shaking his head, the use of y/n's nickname for him for once igniting an angry blaze within his heart, disgust etching itself across his face,

“don’t look at me like that. i don’t like it, not one bit.” anakin insisted, ignoring padmé’s question. "and don't call me that, that isn't what i go by to you." a war was raging inside anakin’s mind, several smaller battles creating a mass conflict inside him. he felt like he was going to explode any minute.

he worried for his young padawan, he knew exactly how this was going to look to her and he despised it. he was furious he couldn’t explain to her what was going on, he could only imagine how much this was hurting her.

the thought that someone had found out about his and y/n’s secret caused him to stiffen before he forced himself to relax. he’d been on several missions protecting padmé as of recently, and before today he almost considered them friends.

anakin let his thoughts encase y/n, his lovely padawan. he hadn’t yet noticed that the queen was staring at him. his heart stung from the lack of y/n, his right side cold without her. he refused to tell padmé his feelings, he couldn’t. sure, his new assignment was to protect padmé, but his first priority was to keep y/n safe. he knew they’d both be forced into exile if anyone were to ever find out about their secret relationship, and that was anakin's worst nightmare.

padmé hated the silence she was met with and thought of some way, any way she could break through the jedi’s walls, get him out of his head and pay attention to her. padmé could tell what, or rather, who was on anakin’s mind, “if this is about me interrupting you earlier, i'm sorry. y/n and I had just gotten into a terrible fight shortly before you had arrived, my mind has been everywhere and nowhere all at once.” she spoke with an anxious chuckle. to her satisfaction, anakin finally looked her in the eyes at the sound of y/n’s name,

“what happened? is she alright?” anakin asked, his worry for y/n only growing. there it was, anakin’s weak spot, y/n.

“she’s been so different lately,” padmé lied, forcing a sad expression as she spoke about the woman she’d began to resent, “i’m sure its that man she’s been around lately, but she wouldn’t even listen to me, her childhood best friend!” anakin’s heart stopped at padmé’s words,

“what?” was all anakin could muster in reply, nausea rising into his stomach and chest. “what man?” anakin said almost bitterly, tasting the bile in the back of his throat.

a look of shock crossed padmé’s features as she covered her mouth, as if she could take back the words that she had already spoken, “she wouldn’t tell me who, but...she had mentioned to me that when she wasn’t with you or me, she was with him.” anakin almost vomited from padmé’s truth, having to force himself to take deep breaths.

anakin didn’t know how much time passed until padmé landed the ship, his eyes finally refocusing on the sight ahead of him, naboo.

—

“no, I refuse to believe that. anakin w-wouldn’t have left without at least saying goodbye, or telling me. something had to have happened.” y/n shook her head, unbelieving of the news she was being told. frostbite exploded across her chest, the warmth of shame and the icy truth of betrayal prominently battling within her, a moment’s weakness reminding her of the secret she had been forced to be, forced to keep. she felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest.

mace windu narrowed his eyes at the young padawan, “master skywalker, for your information, has surrendered responsibility of you to master obi-wan,” he extended his hand to the side where obi-wan sat, a much less jovial than normal tone as he greeted y/n with his usual,

“hello, there.” he waved awkwardly, deciding for himself to take over the explanation from mace, knowing it would be less harsh of an explanation to y/n if he told her himself. he took a step forward to be closer to y/n’s line of sight, “don’t fret, young one. this wasn’t due to anything you may or may not have done, you can relax. i can almost feel your fear,” obi-wan said lightheartedly, accompanied by a chuckle in an attempt to soothe the padawan’s nerves. “this was a decision made by the council, as anakin was sent away on a new assignment.” obi-wan’s eyes were soft and caring as he spoke, worried for the younger jedi in training, noticing her extreme upset.

obi-wan noticed she had little to no reaction at his attempt at a joke and he turned to windu, a nod in his direction, “anakin had told me of the plans he had for y/n’s training, i'd like to get a head start on that if you wouldn’t mind, master windu,” obi-wan watched as he mulled over the thought momentarily before waving the two off,

“you’re both dismissed.” as master windu spoke, y/n flipped around and stormed toward the door, the resemblance of her master’s actions mere hours prior not lost on him. windu clenched his fists before standing up from his seat and turning away to look out the window.

the doors to the council room flew open with a nod of y/n’s head as she channeled the force to swing the doors for her. obi-wan quickly gained on her, following her back to her quarters, “i don’t get it obi-wan,” y/n let out dejectedly, before he placed a hand on her shoulder,

“quiet now. we shall discuss this in private.” obi-wan communicated through the force, the sensation almost foreign to her, only used to this form of communication with anakin’s voice on the other side. y/n stiffened, only nodding gently. her fists were clenched by her sides and obi-wan pretended not to notice as he took the lead, walking them towards y/n’s quarters. together they entered, obi-wan shutting the door behind him as he entered her living space.

“so, what happened?” y/n asked, her words flying from her mouth before she could stop them, “why did he leave? where did he go?” y/n’s heart hadn’t stopped burning since she’d found out, the loss of anakin weighing heavily on her mind and body.

“the council seems to have sent him away on a mission to protect the queen. there was an attempt on her life. so with anakin, the queen is hiding on a different planet until we find who attempted to bring her harm.” obi-wan explained, his gaze sympathetic, “i know you’re upset because your training is going to be different now, perhaps you even thought it would be halted until anakin came back--”

you couldn’t be more wrong about what i'm thinking, master. y/n thought to herself.

“your abilities came to you later than most.” obi-wan spoke, his hands folded together in front of him. it was true, y/n hadn’t realized she were a force sensitive individual until she was roughly fourteen. despite that though, she’d always been playing games in the garden with sticks as weapons, pretending she was a jedi. it was what padmé was referencing when she told y/n she wouldn’t have to fight anymore, when she had been invited to be padmé’s lady in waiting.

with a single nod, y/n looked up at obi-wan, waiting for him to continue, “well, young padawan, come with me. the next part of your training comes now, as per request of anakin himself.” her eyes lit up,

“anakin’s request…? have you spoken with him? is he okay?” y/n forced her voice to remain steady despite her frazzled state, why hasn’t he reached out to me? y/n thought hopelessly.

“anakin’s fine. though, he is far more worried about his little padawan rather than the queen,” obi-wan said with a smile, clapping y/n on the shoulder, “he’s just fine, as is the queen. he wanted me to apologize on his behalf for being unable to explain his circumstances, but to trust him and me, and everything will be alright.”

the pit in her stomach that accompanied her anxieties returned in full force at the thought of anakin no longer being her master, and the fact that padmé’s life was threatened after their big fight. y/n hoped and prayed to the force for her emotions to stop warring within her. upon seeing the distress on her young face, obi-wan gently took her wrists in his own,

“y/n, you must relax. your emotion is radiating off you in waves. calm down, he’s going to come back after this assignment and be your master again, he promises.” obi-wan smiled at her reassuringly, “now come with me, the next step in your training comes now.” y/n’s brows furrowed in confusion and maybe a little worry,

“the next step? master obi-wan, what’re you-hey!” obi-wan only kept walking towards her door and out of her quarters. the young girl chased after him, following behind him quietly. y/n called after him again from the base of his ship before she walked up the ramp, following him inside “master obi-wan!”

obi-wan finally turned to face y/n now, inviting her to take a seat. for once, she followed orders without questioning them and sat down next to obi-wan as he began to start up the ship, “tell me, y/n, have you ever been to the planet lotho minor?”

her brows furrowed at obi-wan as the spacecraft lifted off, flying towards the sky and away from coruscant, “lotho...minor? the wreck planet?” y/n asked, perplexed as to why the planet was relevant. “never. master anakin always told me that only crazy people would go there, that’s where most, including naboo would leave their waste. why? what’s going on, obi-wan?”

“well, your master had plans to bring you there himself, as no one would visit to disturb you, but unfortunately since plans changed, now i'll be bringing you there myself.” y/n wasn’t sure she approved of this, only trying to focus on the fact that this was what anakin had planned for her next.

obi-wan and she didn’t really talk much during the ride there, mainly because obi-wan hadn’t known how to talk to the padawan, really. as obi-wan landed the craft, he then finally turned to y/n, “how have you been enjoying your training? has anakin been good to you?” from the tone of his voice, y/n could tell that he was being lighthearted, trying to get a smile out of her. y/n smiled and nodded softly in response,

“yeah. he’s always been great, in all senses of the word. i never realized how much i was ignorant of, he’s taught me so much.” y/n allowed herself to gush over him, glad that someone had finally given her a reason to praise her master in a respectful manner. obi-wan smiled, finally having something to talk about with his apprentice’s padawan.

“you should be careful when you use words like ‘never’ and ‘always’, padawan. things are rarely so absolute. you should be more precise. clarity of mind is important for a jedi.” obi-wan lectured her.

y/n mentally groaned before obi-wan spoke again, “yes, yes, i know only sith deal in absolutes,” must everything be a lesson? she thought to herself

with a nod, obi-wan folded his arms behind him, “come on now, young one. we have things to do, things to learn,” he barely gave y/n a chance to reply before standing and walking towards the exit of his ship. “anakin wanted to bring you here for a reason. as you know, you should’ve found and forged your kyber crystal for your lightsaber many, many, years ago, but due to your late blooming, you were never able to make it to ilum.”

y/n raised a brow at the recollection of her past and simply nodded, “right… and what does lotho minor have to do with kyber crystals?” the young padawan asked, keeping up with obi-wan’s quick pace, following him into a den carved into the side of a dirt mountain.

as y/n followed obi-wan inside, she looked around and realized that there wasn’t much, other than a plethora of what she could only assume were kyber crystals, never having seen one in person before. y/n raced over to the group of crystals on the dirt, her eyes blown wide with excitement and joy, the first good news in a while, the padawan thought to herself.

she reached down, closing her eyes and let the crystals call to her. as she made her choice on the crystal in the middle, obi-wan chuckled softly,

“gods, you look about as excited as anakin does when queen padmé enters a room, or when he gets sent away on a mission with her.”

y/n’s head flicked up to obi-wan as he spoke, her grip suddenly tightening on the crystal in her hand, “what?”

—

anakin was staring into the fireplace, his mind still racing. it hadn’t stopped, not since yoda had pulled him to the side on his way to training with y/n. it started to cause him extreme discomfort, leaving him with the feeling of being unable to catch a full breath. the young jedi’s mind was bouncing back and forth between right and wrong and what defined each. he found himself starting to question the jedi code, something that had been becoming increasingly more and more common for him. he missed y/n, even though he knew he shouldn’t have.

why did he have to be sent on this mission now? why did his training have to be interrupted? all he wanted was to be with y/n, hold her in his arms. he wanted to-

“anakin, you’ve been quiet since we’ve gotten here, since i told you about y/n.” padmé sat on the couch next to anakin, curling her legs onto the cushion underneath herself. “what are you so worked up about?” padmé shuffled a bit closer now, but anakin’s eyes were still on the flames crackling atop the logs in the stone fireplace.

“padmé, i’d really appreciate some alone time to think right now.” anakin grumbled, not once looking away from the flames ahead of him.

padmé frowned, moving a hair closer to him, “anakin, whatever it is, i’m here for you. if y/n can have someone like him to confide in, you’re certainly allowed to, too.” the queen almost pleaded, watching as anakin stood from the couch, now starting to pace in front of the fireplace.

“i said i’d like some-”

with a soft, annoyed, sigh, padmé stood as well, grabbing anakin by his wrist and pulling him close enough to take his face in her hands, pulling anakin’s lips into her own. she was smiling as she kissed him, but her smile quickly diminished and was replaced with shock when the jedi pushed her away from him,

“padmé, what have you done..?” anakin sounded horrified, wiping her kiss off his lips with his sleeves, fear filling his eyes and heart. y/n. his thoughts were only of her, his young padawan, who was going to be devastated when she found out.

“i have to go.” the jedi said worriedly, his eyes flickering around every surface in the room until his eyes landed on the spacecraft key.

“anakin, wait, i’m sorry, come back! wait!” the queen called after him. as 3po finally began to clamber back up the hill from the market, a basket of food in his arms, he saw his very angry master storming towards the spacecraft they'd all arrived on, the wind flapping his robes behind him. anakin was a threatening presence right now, even the droid could sense it.

“sir, i have returned with the--oh, where are you going?” the droid asked, turning to direct his question to his master as anakin stormed past the droid,

“3po, stay here with the queen until i or another jedi comes back.” was all that anakin said, quickly throwing himself into the ship's cockpit.

in that moment, anakin had made a decision.

he would no longer standby and let the jedi code dictate his every move, thought, and action. he was the chosen one, it was time to choose something for himself and what he held dear. he was done being a weapon of the republic.

he had to find y/n, fast.

—

“it was…always her, wasn’t it…?”

“y/n, what have i told you about always and never, the more time passes, the more i swear you’re just like-” obi-wan’s eyes finally met the glowing crystal in y/n’s hand.

he drew his lightsaber out of pure instinct, his breath caught in his lungs, “y/n…” obi-wan whispered in disbelief.

y/n’s racing heart was ignored as she looked down at the red kyber crystal in her hand, her body on autopilot as she placed the crystal into the hilt of the saber, as if she had repeated the process multiple times in her life. the red of her lightsaber illuminating her face in the darkness of the cave.

y/n realized that obi-wan wasn’t breathing, her hand raised to use the force to expand his lungs out of pure habit, an action she'd learned from her master who had used the method on herself when she was panicking and couldn't breathe. she hadn't thought twice, fear overtaking her mind and body, “m-master? what does this mean?” the young girl was terrified out of her mind.

obi-wan powered off his lightsaber, the hilt of the saber placed on his side once more when he realized y/n wasn’t going to hurt him.

“run. run while i’m extending to you compassion that i shouldn’t.” obi-wan’s tone was sad, his heart pained for the young padawan. “i won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone, but you must run, y/n. i can no longer protect you.” y/n looked up at obi-wan, attempting to make eye contact with him, but he kept his gaze on the ground, unable to look at her.

“obi-wan, i-” y/n pleaded out softly,

“GO!” obi-wan yelled, turning his back to y/n, his fists clenched at his sides.

devastation filled y/n as she stood, forcing herself to her feet, “tell…tell my master i’m sorry i couldn’t say goodbye.” she mustered out before taking off deeper into lotho minor.

obi-wan heard her run off, his back still to her as she spoke. he found himself turning around to watch her frame disappear into the distance, swallowing his feelings. he watched for another moment more, even after she left his line of sight before heading back to his spacecraft,

alone.

when obi-wan returned to coruscant, he did not immediately report back to the council, instead electing to go straight to his quarters. he stared at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom, unsure if he was proud or scared of the man looking back at him.

—

upon anakin’s return to coruscant, he immediately found himself at the door of his padawan’s quarters. he knocked on her door, calling out her name quietly. he received no answer, only making his heart race faster. he closed his eyes, using the force to sense her, but he didn’t feel her presence at all, not on this planet.

had obi-wan and she already gone to lotho minor? he hadn’t even been gone a full week, and obi-wan had already taken her to forge her crystal. he was distracted from his thoughts when he heard footsteps behind him.

it was grand master yoda approaching him.

anakin walked towards the grand master, not even remembering to nod his head respectfully towards yoda, the worry for y/n entirely consuming all of his mind,

“where’s my y/n? where’s my padawan?” the young jedi’s voice was laced with worry. he ignored the taken aback expression on yoda’s face at his words, his fear only monsooning at the grand master’s words,

“heard from her, we have not. master obi-wan the last to see and hear from her, he was.” yoda answered.

“how long has it been since you’ve heard from her?” anakin asked, trying and failing to remain calm. he couldn't stop his voice from trembling.

“the day her assignment under obi-wan began, saw her, last we did.” the day anakin left coruscant?

i’m going to lose my mind, the jedi thought to himself.

as anakin ran off towards obi-wan’s quarters, the jedi ignored the grand master’s calls for him, only focusing on finding obi-wan as fast as he could. fear threatened to swallow anakin whole, the fact that no one had heard from y/n terrifying him.

everything anakin was doing was for her.

anakin didn’t even knock when he found obi-wan’s quarters, using the force to swing the door open as he stepped inside, “obi-wan!” he called out for his master, stepping deeper into the room.

obi-wan had been on his balcony, leaning on the railing and staring out at the sky as he heard anakin approach. he didn’t turn around or even acknowledge the young jedi until anakin stood at his side.

“where’s y/n? yoda said you were the last to hear from her, you were the last to see her! where is she?” anakin was a mixture of anger and anxiety, a fiery ball of emotion that scared obi-wan.

“anakin, please calm down.” was all the older jedi said before turning to face anakin, his face troubled. seeing the burden that obi-wan carried on him and feeling the weight of obi-wan’s stress in the force only forced anakin to speak, needing confirmation that his worst case scenario wasn’t coming to fruition,

“obi-wan, tell me where y/n is.” he said after a breath, his hands on the banister of the balcony, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as he gazed at obi-wan pleadingly.

“she…" a pause. "is no longer with us, anakin.” obi-wan said quietly, his gaze still not on anakin. anakin thought he was going to be sick, a cold sweat beading at the back of his neck and down his back.

“what do you mean, no longer with us, obi-wan? now really isn’t the time for jokes, i’d like to see my padawan and her new lightsaber that you two were supposed to go retrieve.” anakin's tone was one of deep denial, despite not knowing exactly what obi-wan meant by his words.

for a moment, obi-wan considered telling the young jedi that his padawan had died, to save him the pain of knowing that y/n was no longer a padawan, but a sith apprentice.

“she…” the words were stuck in obi-wan’s throat, unsure of where to begin in his explanation, “i think you should take a seat, anakin, perhaps we should go inside and-”

anakin slammed his hand down on the banister, the metal reverberating with a soft whine, “damnit, obi-wan, tell me what happened!”

“she belongs to the dark side, now, anakin.” obi-wan finally lifted his gaze to who was once his own padawan. “i brought her to the cavern on lotho minor like you asked of me, she picked up her chosen crystal, and i made a silly joke and laughed… by the time i looked up, she was wielding a red light saber. i’m so sorry anakin.”

“did you kill her…?” anakin asked, his chest constricting painfully as he looked away from obi-wan, “what did you say to her?!” it took all of his restraint to not grab obi-wan and throw him over the edge of the balcony,

obi-wan was silent for a moment, “no. i didn’t. i let her go, anakin. i couldn’t. she wasn't going to hurt me, that's why i let her go.” he took a deep breath before continuing, “she looked excited, beyond it, to set her eyes upon the crystals. i said something along the lines of her expression was similar to how you looked when the queen walked into a room, or when you were assigned on a mission with her, i thought she’d laugh. i still don’t understand what happened…” obi-wan shook his head, entirely oblivious that his poorly made and timed joke cost anakin everything.

anakin couldn’t stop himself before his hand found the hilt of his lightsaber, a desolate look on his face as he flicked the power button, the blue energy buzzing and whirring in the air alongside him.

anakin heard y/n’s laugh, pictured her smile in his head, his anger towards obi-wan only growing, i never even had the chance to tell her i love her.

“you turned her against me…”

obi-wan’s heart shattered at the sight before him, his hand hesitantly finding his own lightsaber, the blade still powered off as he spoke, “anakin, don’t do this. don’t let her twist your mind with the dark side!” anakin’s former master pleaded with him, his heart heavy already with the loss of a powerful padawan like y/n. he couldn’t bear to watch his own former padawan fall to the dark side too. “you’re my brother anakin, please-”

“don’t lecture me obi-wan, i see through the lies of the jedi, i do not fear the dark side as you do.”

obi-wan finally powered on his lightsaber, his own emotion threatening to consume him as he took on a defensive stance,

“then i will do what i must.” obi-wan whispered, unable to stop his emotion from breaking through.

"you will try."

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awkward-tension-art · 8 months ago

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Order 66 (tbb x Jedi!reader)

Ok, so i’ve had this idea in my head of the clones with a Jedi S/O during Order 66. I don’t mean they act on Order 66, I mean if everything sorta played out similar in canon (Chip doesn’t work)

Idk, I like me some protective boys.

CW: minimally proofread, jedi!S/O, Reader, Gender neutral pronouns, Order 66, violence, death, swearing, Hunter trying his best, Wrecker being a sweetie, Echo is ready to fight, Tech is the only one who is level headed, and Crosshair being somewhat emotional

You were following Caleb when the order came through. Your steps stumbled and your knees hit the cold ground. All around you, the Force was being ripped apart. Hands were on your shoulders.

your lover. You barely realized through the haze.

With absolute horror, you watched helplessly as clones gunned down Depa Billaba. “Run Caleb!” You heard her scream through the overwhelming grief and death you felt. The padawan turned, lightsaber ready.

“Get away from us!” he barked, calling your name, “Get up! Please!”

He was panicked, confused. So were you.

You managed to look up, seeing the clone troopers across the field standing over Master Billaba’s smoking corpse. They were prepping to kill you and the padawan next.

Without another word you bolted, grabbing Caleb’s hand and sprinting to the trees. You didn’t look back. You had to make sure the kid was safe.

Hunter

“Wait!” He’ll give chase before stopping at the tree line. He had never seen you look so devastated and afraid.

He’s going to follow you. Of course he is. He’s just as confused as everyone else.

Until Tech finally finds out what's going on

“The Jedi have been ordered to be executed.” “Which one?” “All of them.”

“What!? Why!?” Hunter is panicked at this point. The troopers behind him have orders to kill. They won’t show you mercy.

“Apparently they’ve committed treason.”

By the time he finds you, Caleb had already jumped across the ravine and was waiting for you. You turned, tears in your eyes.

“I can feel it…everyone is being killed.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” He’s going to try and calm you down, “I promise, we’re going to figure this out.” His arms are around you.

It wasn’t safe for you. Not anywhere near him and the others. He knows this. You know this.

The two of you come up with a hurried plan.

“Go to these coordinates. Once we know what's going on, I’ll come find you.” He’ll kiss you passionately, “Get the kid and hide.”

Hunter won’t go with you. He’s the squad leader. He can’t just go missing.

Despite the fear that you’ll be found out, he trusts you and your skills to stay alive.

Once you jump across, he’ll watch, make sure no one follows or tries to shoot at you.

Once he’s questioned on your whereabouts, he’s going to lie, “I managed to stab the kid and shoot the Jedi. both of them fell into the water.”

I will say, his nerves are shot until he gets to you again.

But in the meanwhile? He’s antsy. Anxious and a tad distracted.

Also a hairs trigger from snapping.

Crosshair badgers him at Kamino and Hunter barely holds back a punch.

Hunter loves you, so damn dearly. And right now he can’t protect you because he needs to figure out what the fuck is going on.

But, after finding the truth and getting Omega, he makes a damn beeline for the coordinates he gave you.

Plus side? Caleb and Omega become friends.

Echo

What the FUCK just happend!?

He sprints into the trees to keep up, ignoring how Hunter is calling his name.

“Echo, get back here!”

“No.” He will cut off his comms.

He’s an ARC trooper, he can track you to a degree. He’s not like Hunter, but he gets to the general area where you are.

He manages to get to a clearing where you and Caleb are hiding in the trees.

“Cyare!” Echo is clearly confused, worried and he swears he feels the same amount of death that’s overwhelmed you.

Once you reveal yourself, his helmet is off and his arms are around you so tightly.

“I don’t know what's going on, but I’ll keep you and Commander Dume safe.”

Hunter and Crosshair catch up to you, and once Crosshair aims his blaster at you and Caleb, Echo is ready to brawl.

He stands protectively in front of you, gun aimed at the sniper, “If your skinny ass doesn’t put the fucking gun away I swear to-!”

“Both of you stand down!” Hunter will have to get between them, because Echo is 100% willing to shoot Crosshair if it means you stay safe.

He’s not aware Crosshair doesn't exactly have a choice at the moment.

Really no one is aware.

But he’s lost domino squad, he’s lost Fives, he's lost legion, right now his former general is probably being killed…He’s lost so much already.

He refuses to lose you too.

So Echo pulls the trigger first, settling on stunning him and making a dash towards the ravine. Hunter has to keep up.

Once Caleb is across, he’ll get meetup coordinates from Hunter.

Echo goes with you. He doesn’t return to Kamino. The moment he's across the ravine with you and Caleb he’s a deserter.

He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want to lose you.

He’s a strong, determined guard, and one who didn’t let you or Caleb get hurt.

Wrecker

He casts a glance at Hunter before running off after you.

He has no idea what Order 66 is. Nor does he care.

The guy saw you so…out of it. So scared and confused.

His protective instincts have geared up to 11.

Hunter goes with him, while Crosshair is the one who remains behind to stall.

Once Tech informs everyone that the Jedi have been named traitors and should be executed on sight, Wrecker gets serious. Very serious.

He becomes so unlike himself, even Crosshair is surprised.

Honestly? I see Wrecker as someone willing to gun down any ‘reg’ if they’re threatening his squad or s/o.

Even this early into the Empire.

When he sees you, he’s immediately grabbing you into his arms which causes Caleb to attack.

Admittedly he’s gonna tackle Caleb, only adding to the poor kids terror.

“Wrecker, you're scaring him!”

But after a strong bear hug and an “Easy kid! I’m tryna help you!” The padawan calms down enough to listen.

He puts Caleb down, rips off his helmet and gives you one hell of a kiss.

He’s worried. He’s scared. And he wants to protect you.

Hunter will have to talk him down from running off with you.

The sergeant has to keep his squad together. It sucks but they need to figure out what the heck is happening at the moment.

Wrecker desperately wants to go with you but he can’t abandon his squad.

However, he feels much better once Hunter gives some safe coordinates to lay low and hide.

He’ll get you to the ravine and stand guard until you and Caleb are across and out of sight.

You bet your ass when he meets up with you again he’s not letting you go.

Tech

He isn’t as emotional as the others at the moment. He’s actually focused on gathering as much information in the least amount of time.

He waits, listening to the comm chatter. What is going on? why?

“Execute Order 66.”

After a second, he shares a look with Hunter.

“Tech, go after-”

No more words need to be said. Tech is gone and going after you.

He’s smart. He knows your patterns. He knows where you’d most likely hide. So he focuses on that.

Once he’s confident he’s in a broad area where you and Caleb are, he’s going to call out to you, “Cyare? There’s something called Order 66 on the comms.”

Tech gives you information first. He won’t make you reveal yourself if you don’t feel safe enough.

When Echo announces that the Jedi have been charged with treason, he’ll relay that to you.

“The comms say the Jedi committed treason against the Republic,” He’s going to keep looking around for you, “I know you. You’d never do such a thing. I’m here, Cyare. I can help you.”

Once you reveal yourself, Caleb behind you, he feels the biggest amount of relief.

He pulls off his helmet, giving you a small smile.

“Tech…The Jedi…” your voice cracks, “They’re being killed…I can feel it.”

“I know, Cyare…I’m sorry.” He tries his best to comfort you, but he knows he can never understand.

The amount of Jedi he’s worked with can be counted on one hand.

But he knows this is your family. Your friends. Your very life.

Once Hunter meets up with you guys, a plan can be put in place.

He gives you coordinates for a location to meet-up and hide. You’ll lay low with Caleb.

In the meantime, Tech will return to Kamino, figure out what's happening, and from there a better, more long term plan can be made.

Before you leave though, he’s going to give you the longest, most passionate kiss he's ever given you.

He’s well aware that there's a chance you can be found and killed.

Tech is the only one who has accepted that you may not make it out of this.

But he’s going to keep his mind occupied, distract himself until he’s by your side again.

Crosshair

As soon as the order goes out, Crosshair is under the influence of the inhibitor chip.

He just doesn’t know. No one does at this point.

He watches you run away with Caleb and the drive to hunt you down is hard to ignore.

He needs to find you to kill you, to protect you.

But, the sudden headache he has is damn near blinding.

Crosshair follows Hunter, keeping his comms on.

He freezes when Tech finds out the Jedi have been marked for execution.

The Inhibitor Chip in his skull is contending with his feelings for you.

He needs to execute save you.

When he spots you he pulls his rifle and aims but barely manages to stop himself.

He can’t hurt you. He needs to kill loves you.

Crosshair draws some sort of conclusion that Kaminoans had conditioned all clones to follow specific orders.

He doesn’t know of the chip. He just assumes it comes from the troopers' conditioning.

When his arms are around your body, for a brief moment he thinks of snapping your neck.

Good soldiers follow orders.

He hates orders.

This is the point where Crosshair knows something is seriously wrong with him.

But he’s not going to say anything yet. He can still fight if need be.

“You need to run…hide…get away from here.” it's a rare moment that he’s scared.

The sniper is desperate to shoot protect you.

The headache is persistent, and it’s somewhat distracting.

But he’ll power through.

Crosshair will wait for Hunter to come up with…something.

His eyes are on the area around you, gun set to kill in case any reg tries anything.

The plan? Clone Force 99 returns to Kamino while you and Caleb go into hiding.

You have coordinates. He can find you later.

But…well Crosshair doesn’t like that. At all.

Hear me out. Like Echo, Crosshair goes with you. He knows somethings up with him, but he trusts himself more than he trusts anyone else.

“Tell Kamino they killed me.” He instructs Hunter, “That I died trying to stop the Jedi and you managed to get justice.”

He crosses the ravine with you, only looking back to nod back to Hunter.

By the time Crosshair, you and Caleb safely get off the planet, his headache is a small annoyance that goes away with time.

Crosshair sticks with you until he reunites with his squad and notices Omega

Welp, you got Caleb, what's one more kid?

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cowboygenesis · 1 month ago

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11: super silver haze | kylo ren x reader

part 11 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: TONS of explicit language, loud arguments, smoking (weed) (like, a lot). word count: 6.6k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: holy shit you guys. this was a doozy, but we're finally climbing the precipice and inching toward the long-awaited CLIMAX. literally kicked my feet and giggled writing this, so ya'll. i pray i did this scene the justice it deserves. please let me know what you think, and as always, thank you so much for reading and supporting me ♥

Now Playing: Sunday Sermon - Booker T. & the M.G.'s

The room rolls with warmth, heavy with the scent of grape juice and resin. As you exhale, a thin stream of smoke flows through the dimness, rippling with technicolor.

“And what?” Poe utters lazily as you hand him the joint, his dark waves kept neat with a headband. “ He said no?”

“Dude, are you even listening?” Finn reprimands from the kitchen, shaking a pot against the stove. The smell of artificial butter fills the room, making your mouth water. “He said—”

“Not like this.” you cut your friend off, sinking into your velvet beanbag with an exasperated sigh as you recall those forbidden words. You’re uncertain if it’s sentiment or just the high, but the pit in your stomach makes you nauseated the second you’re reminded of the party.

You flip your head to the side, lazily meeting Poe’s gaze. His lips curl into that usual, half-hearted smile while he ponders your predicament.

“Such a romantic,” he finally shrugs, and you can’t quite tell if he’s being serious or not. His smile drops, and he looks at you in question. “Can I say that?”

You roll your eyes and tug at the strings of your sweatshirt. The broad hood contracts, trapping your scowling face within. “Whatever.”

“Whatever?” Finn echoes as he reenters the living room, holding a fresh bowl of popcorn. He sets it down on the low coffee table before joining you and Poe on the ground. When you peek your nose out to eye the men’s curious faces, you realize you’re not hungry anymore.

“I think I’m over it,” you finally sigh, leaning back against the beanbag as your friends begin shoveling into the kernels.

Poe snorts, chewing thoughtfully as you withdraw from your hood. “You’re absolutely not over it.”

“Uh-huh,” you scoff at his denial, mindlessly taking the joint from Finn’s hand when he passes it your way. Only a charred nub is left, but you bring it to your lips, anyway. As you inhale, you cringe at the heightened burn settling in your throat. “I want to be.”

The man quirks a brow, picking unpopped kernels from his palm and flicking them into the plastic trashcan. “Do you?”

The question settles into your swirling gut like a weight, making you groan in displeasure—because, after all, you don’t know the answer.

After finding out the story behind Sienna, you thought you had it all figured out. Kylo’s arrival, his inexplicable moods, and why he refused to be anything but a massive pain in your ass.

Except you knew that wasn’t all. This innocent crush you developed on your best friend’s older brother eventually blossomed into something completely untameable, and now? You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You craved the lingering gazes, the teasing, his bold touches. You wanted to be around him, become the object of his attention. But you didn’t love him. It was a strong, terrifying word that neither of you were ready for.

But you did hate him.

You hated how he’d treat you like a confidant, only to pull away just as you found joy in the position. How he smiled so wide, then scowled with twice the force.

You hated how he made you feel wanted, just to choose the other woman.

“When is he moving out, by the way?” Finn pipes up, knocking you out of your rumination. When you turn toward him, he gives you a raised brow. You must have been scowling.

“I don’t know,” you utter quietly, relaxing your expression to calm any suspicion. “He’s not made any progress.”

“Wait,” Poe shakes his head in confusion, leaning over the coffee table to reach for the rolling papers. “Remind me why he’s crashing at yours in the first place?”

You sigh, toying with the beanbag’s loose threads as your friend fills his plastic grinder. “He’s moving. Or, he wants to move.”

“Can’t blame him one bit,” Finn groans, leaning back against the front of the couch. “Can you imagine living with your ex after finding out they cheated? Seeing them every day?”

“It’s so much worse than that,” you explain, earning looks from your two friends. You bite your bottom lip, gaze dropping to your lap. “He walked in on them.”

Finn stops mid-chew, while Poe’s jaw drops in shock. He quirks a brow at you as if disbelieving in the disrespect. “Dude.”

“Yeah, dude,” you laugh joylessly, crossing your arms. The image of Kylo’s sunken features plagues your mind, replaying that same conversation like a hellish mantra. You’re unsure if the pit in your stomach comes from anger or sympathy.

“But, I mean…” Finn trails, scooping another handful of popcorn. “In their own bedroom, too?”

Your lips flatten, glimpsing into the distance mournfully as you nod. The two men shake their heads in joined disbelief.

“Christ,” Poe mutters, continuing with his new joint. “No wonder the guy’s such a jackass.”

“Poe,” Finn reprimands, making his friend raise his hands defensively.

“Sorry, but it’s true!” he utters dramatically, gesturing toward you with bud-stained digits. “No matter how bad you’ve had it, you don’t just… You don’t just get to shove your grief onto other people. That’s not how it works.”

A silence follows, filled only by the muffled sound of 90’s hip-hop emitting from a small JBL speaker.

You want to be mad, but inexplicably, you’re not. The pit in your stomach expands, blooming into something soft around the edges and gooey in the center. You know it’s not hatred.

“Oh, god,” Poe gasps dramatically, making you meet his gaze with confusion. “You don’t blame him.”

Your eyes widen, matching the frustrated scowl lining your features. You shake your head in denial, but it comes a second too late for authenticity. “Poe—”

“I think you might even be empathizing with that motherfucker,” he trails loudly, watching your lips tighten once more. You’ve got nothing to say in defense, and your friend catches onto that immediately with the emerging curl of his mouth. “Holy shit, don’t tell me—”

“Stop,” you groan, rubbing your face into the meat of your palms. “I’m serious, Poe, I can’t handle this shit ri—”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to make any progress,” Finn cuts you off, making the two of you stop your bickering and face him with quirked brows.

You sigh, curbing your frustration before speaking again. “Go on.”

“I think he means that—”

“What I mean,” Finn gruffs out, shooting a sharp scowl toward Poe, “is he wants to stay.”

The latter nods severely, eyes wide as he speaks through a mouthful of kernels. “With you.”

You scoff, head shaking as you scan their expressions. Somehow, the conversation has sobered you up enough to realize they’re not fucking with you.

“Nonsense, I mean—that makes no sense.” you chuckle sardonically, hands twitching at your sides. “Right?”

The two men look at each other knowingly, then you.

“I don’t know,” Finn shrugs, tapping to the rhythm of the song that plays. “He’s hot and stacked. I don’t see how he’d have an issue finding something suitable.”

Poe scoffs, licking the joint shut at last. “I couldn’t couch surf for this long.”

Just as you’re about to speak, Finn cuts him off with a burst of disbelieving chuckles.

“Dude, except you have,” he reprimands. “Remember your Eurotrip? Berlin?”

Poe sucks his cheeks in with a hum, thinking for a moment before facing his friend with a pointed finger. “Don’t talk to me about Berlin.”

You sigh, leaning into your beanbag once more. Your friends’ conversation melts into the background, letting you clear your mind.

“He rejected me,” you finally shrug, voice low. “Plain and simple.”

“In his defence,” Finn purses his lips, placing the plastic bowl to the side. You watch him shift onto the couch, hands locked. “You could interpret those words in a dozen different ways.”

“I haven’t seen him since the party,” you sigh in exasperation, flailing a hand in the air. “He’s completely MIA.”

Poe nods in acknowledgment, placing the filter between his lips and palming the floor for his lighter. The other man focuses on you, eyeing the nervous way you drum your thigh.

“Does Rey know?” he finally questions, making you knit your brows. As if.

“He doesn’t tell Rey anything. When he leaves, it’s a compl—”

“No, I mean,” Finn cuts you off softly, swallowing thickly as he ponders over an appropriate way to address the concern. Poe watches him curiously, burning the tip of the rolling paper off.

“Does Rey know about your…” The man on the couch begins anew, fiddling with his digits. “Problem?”

Poe scoffs between inhales, motioning toward you lazily.

“It’s not a problem, she’s just horny.”

“Ugh,” you scowl, feigning nonchalance as your cheeks burn red at the bold statement. If only it weren’t true. “Stop saying that.”

“What?” he taunts, bloodshot eyes narrowed as he curls his lips into a devilish smirk. “Horny?”

“Alright,” you raise your palms defensively, quickly rocking your way out of the beanbag. As you stand, the two men glance up at you with worry. “I’m out.”

“Hey, I was kidding!” Poe cries out, shuffling to stand up. He does so haphazardly, swearing under his breath as he loses balance and stumbles into Finn’s knee.

“It’s not that,” you explain quietly, the weight of your anxiety knocking all humor out of the situation. “I promised Rey I’d take her suit to dry cleaning. She’s got some company event next week.”

While spending quality time with friends was generally a great way to get over a dumb crush, you suddenly dreaded needing to answer more pressing questions. You needed air, stat.

“Is she out of town?” Finn questions, his sudden interest making you smile joylessly.

“For a few days,” you nod with a shrug. “Seeing family again.”

Poe mutters something under his breath as he finally stumbles upwards, meeting you with a wild grin. “So it’s just you and Kylo at ho—”

“Zip it,” you warn smoothly, pointing a digit his way. “I’m so serious.”

“Alright, alright!” the man raises his hands in a dramatic display of defeat, sighing to steady his posture. His face shifts into something more sympathetic, dark eyebrows high on his forehead. “Want me to drive you?”

“You’d be a health hazard in your current state.” Finn scoffs from the couch, earning a lazy eye roll from his friend.

“At least I have a license.”

“I’ll take the subway,” you reassure with a polite smile, approaching the foyer to grab your jacket from the hangers before another argument erupts. “It’s chill.”

Poe trails after you, one hand in his pocket while the other wields the joint. “Suit yourself, baby.”

You whip your head toward him with furrowed brows and a smile, head tilted as you slide your shoes on. Even in the most off-beat moments, you’re reminded of Kylo Ren. “Is that a Jersey thing?”

Poe quirks a brow, his eyes narrowing like he’s trying to interpret a foreign language. “I’m not Jersey.”

You shake your head with a tart chuckle, reaching to pat your friend’s stubble-riddled cheek. You lean back, issuing Finn a quick wave. “See you.”

You hitch your bag on your shoulder and walk out the door, hearing Finn snickering from inside. “Stay safe, you two!”

“Don’t make me come back in there!” you yell back half-heartedly, earning another fit of giggles from the two men before the door finally slams shut.

As you descend the staircase, your smile shifts into a deep frown.

୨ৎ

You watch the pristinely ironed pantsuit with narrowed eyes, peeking at you behind a thin layer of protective plastic. It hangs from the curtain rod, swaying in the soft breeze like a business-casual ghost as you lean your back against the balcony railing.

You inhale the bittersweet resin, letting it warm your lungs before hurling it into a swirl of smoke. The Meters play softly from inside the apartment, elevating your approaching high.

If it were any other circumstances, you’d reprimand yourself for choosing another joint over sobriety. But today was special.

You were mourning the death of your fixation.

On your treacherous way home on the subway, you thought about facing Kylo again. It was there, squeezed between two other passengers at rush hour, that you had reached an epiphany.

Even now, it makes your throat burn with acid as you strain your eyes against the doorway of your home.

While you haven’t seen Kylo in over twenty-four hours, something primal made you feel like the meeting was approaching steadily. Then, once it was time, you’d finally tell him your feelings.

You’d tell Kylo Ren you hated his guts.

You twist around, resting your elbows against the cold balustrade. Your quaint neighborhood lies just below, humming with occasional passersby. In the distance lies the heart of the city, looming brightly over the watercolor-stained horizon.

As you puff smoke through your teeth, the front door clicks open.

Your jaw tightens, eyes wide when you realize you’re left no time to prepare. The sun has just begun to set, meaning he shouldn’t be home for another few hours. You bite worry your lip between your teeth. This wasn’t at all according to—

You hear the rustle of keys being tossed onto the console in the foyer, followed by the deep sigh of a man shedding the weight of the day. He starts with his shoes, shoving them off by the wall. Then comes the hefty leather jacket, tossed haphazardly against the couch’s headrest.

Your eyebrows furrow, fingers curling tightly around the joint as you lift it back to your chapped lips.

Soft, measured footsteps come from the living room.

You exhale, watching the smoke billow into the air against a backdrop of blue and orange. The next breath, you hold.

The footsteps stop at the balcony doorway, replaced by a single, quiet hum. It’s all too familiar, and while you’re severely tempted to face him, you know it’d be a bluff. So you persevere.

“Good evening,” he calls smoothly. You’ve barely gone a day in its absence, yet the sudden reappearance of his hoarse baritone is enough to send a crisp jolt down your spine.

You extend your stiff arms against the balustrade, trying to remain natural in your silence. You think he’ll keep going and make a nasty comment about your half-hearted outfit or your drug habit, but he doesn’t.

Kylo stands there in silence, looming. You imagine he’s leaning against the doorframe with a hellish smirk, awaiting your next move.

But you’re so, so tired of the games. And this time, you want him to know.

“When’d you get so stuck up?” you bark out, head shaking to amp up the hostility.

Naturally, Kylo chuckles at your antics. The low, reverberating sound heats your skin and boils your blood, until you realize what you had planned to do.

Just as you’re about to twist toward him, the footsteps pick up again. You still in place, breath quickened as you feel his presence loom over your flank in a few, short strides.

You force your head forward, deliberately dodging his gaze when he arrives in your peripheral. Despite the blurry image, your heart thrums at the umber silhouette framing his porcelain mein.

Your nostrils flare as he leans against the balustrade, matching your position while maintaining an appropriate distance. Somehow, that very fact makes you all the more frustrated with him.

Pine fills your nose, and you clench your jaw. Instantly, your fog-addled brain is flooded by visions of the sidewalk, a half-finished bottle of whiskey, and Kylo’s lips so achingly close to yours.

And then comes the aftermath, with Sienna’s vixen smile and Kylo’s dreadful rejection. For a moment, you think you might hurl. That ought to prove a point, at least.

Then, you feel something brush against your knuckles. The movement is brief, and before you can turn to look, Kylo’s picking the joint from your fingers.

You whip your head toward him, breath catching in your throat at the sight.

The joint hangs loosely from his plush lips, trapped behind a bittersweet smile. The ember glows as he inhales, cheeks hollowing to drag the smoke out. His eyes remain locked on yours like two dark pools of oblivion, flickering over your face before he exhales. The scent of burnt resin and pine tar lingers in your nose, its warmth hitting you like a sly taunt.

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t remember offering.”

Kylo hums, tipping his head back.

“Are you avoiding me?” Kylo questions instead, his tone low and devoid of substance. Your eyes roll at the implication, already exhausted at having the blame pinned on you. If you knew better, you’d tear the joint from his hand, tell him to fuck off, and storm off—but instead, you dig your nails into your palms with a labored huff.

“Avoiding you?” you scoff as a trickling burn settles in your chest. “Some nerve you’ve got.”

He takes another long drag before passing the joint back to you. You take it from his hand slowly, prudent enough to keep a distance.

As you place the filter between your lips, you realize it’s still moist. You know you shouldn’t lose your mind over such a meaningless, juvenile thing, but the sensation makes you tense your abs with something indescribable.

“So you aren’t?” the man continues, and you sigh. Even if he’s just asking to torment you, you know that the quickest way out is through.

“No,” you mumble lowly, settling your gaze into the distance without a particle focus. “I’m not.”

Your answer is stern and simple, but seems to satisfy Kylo just enough for him to hum in acknowledgment. You feel him shuffle at your side, shifting his weight deeper against the balustrade.

“Are you upset with me?”

“You sound like a needy child,” you scoff again, but his question gets you thinking. While you wouldn’t use that particular word to describe your severely complex feelings toward Kylo, it’s a good place to start. “I’m always upset with you.”

He hums again, craning his neck to look at you. “Why?”

His voice is flat but not as empty as before. The lack of his usual dry humor lacing the edges makes you feel like there’s a semblance of authenticity to the question, yet you can’t bring yourself to give him that same courtesy.

Your eyes flicker toward him, taking in his lazy smile and lax eyebrows. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

He scoffs this time, nostrils flaring. “I think you like it.”

The accusation, albeit frivolous, carries stones into your stomach. You inhale sharply and turn away again, fists clenched tight as you brace to lie your way out.

“Then you’re wrong.”

Yet again, Kylo doesn’t trail on. The silence stretches taut, pressing against your ribs like a tightening vice. You feel his gaze on you, but he offers little else—no quip, lazy smirks, or lazy provocation. Something in your chest caves at that.

Your jaw clenches, and before you can stop yourself from turning the conversation petty, the words tumble out like sand. “How was it?”

Kylo’s fingers flex against the railing, lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line.

“The party,” you elaborate, pressing harsh emphasis on the words. You can’t hide the bitterness in your voice, no matter how hard you try to fight it. And he notices.

“Why are you asking?” he shifts toward you.

Your stomach shifts at his bellicose nonchalance, voice snappy when it comes. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, head steady as he fervently chases your gaze. You don’t give in, so he continues. “Maybe because you enjoy torturing yourself.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, finally shifting your attention toward him. As usual, there’s little for you to go off besides the occasional twitch of his lips. “Just drop the games.”

He huffs, inching his gaze away momentarily. You watch his lips tighten, and he finally faces you with a frown. “Is this about—”

“Why’d you say that?” you cut off, but the regret settles in almost immediately. Your nails dig into your palms, eyes narrowed as you curse yourself for following your curiosity. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

“What?” he questions quietly, slowly, like he’s giving you a way out. And despite everything you’ve sworn yourself to abandon, the next words fall from your lips unprompted.

“On the curb,” you croak, feeling your throat run dry. You’re unsure if it’s the weed or the bubbling whine threatening to rise to your mouth. “Why’d you say that?”

His breath is shallow like he’s just taken a hit to the ribs. His knuckles are white where they grip the railing, and for a second, you think you see something split behind his eyes. But it’s gone in a blink, swallowed up by that same infuriating restraint he’s been showcasing since the dawn of his arrival.

Your chest rises and falls, your own breath just as unsteady. The night air feels suffocating now, dense with the buzz of tension that’s been meandering between you for far too long.

"Say something," you demand, voice sharp and crackling.

Kylo shakes his head, bringing a palm up to rub his face. His eyebrows furrow microscopically, leaving small divots in his pale forehead.

“You were drunk.”

Your throat tightens, a bitter smile emerging at the curve of your lips. “And you weren’t?”

He doesn’t need to answer. Kylo had been drinking, sure, but not like you—not in a way that made his actions foggy or excusable. He had been coherent, steady, and calculating as always; whatever happened that night hadn’t been a mistake of impulse. There was no convenient excuse, no haze of intoxication for him to hide behind like you have.

And the worst part? He didn’t owe you anything. He never had.

“Not like you,” he mutters. His chin drops, gaze flickering downward like he can’t fully bring himself to look at you, as if facing your expression might be worse than whatever this is simmering between you.

A shaky breath flutters past your lips as you stare at him, blinking against the strain plowing through your chest.

In some perfect, utopian world, this would be comfortable. You’d get a clean rejection—a firm: ‘No, it meant nothing’, and that would be that. You’d nod, finish your joint on the balcony, then disappear into your room to cry for a reasonable amount of time for someone grieving their heartbreak. Kylo wouldn’t follow.

Things would settle—return to normal.

Or at least, as normal as they were before any of this ever saw the light of day.

But as you watch him now, your stomach knots with something sharp and agonizing curling beneath your ribs. Your eyes track over the little scar beneath his eyebrow, the dim smudge of stubble along his jaw, and the way his hair falls in reckless waves you want to touch, if only to see if they’re as soft as you’ve always imagined.

This is your moment. Your chance to let it die here and pretend none of it ever mattered.

And yet your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to move like it did. The words slip out before you can stop them.

“And if I wasn’t drunk?”

Kylo turns toward you, his expression breaking open with the first raw reaction you’ve seen from him all evening. His brows twitch upward, eyes widening just slightly at the bluntness of your words.

“What?”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, inhaling deeply. The joint in your fingers has nearly burned itself out, forgotten in the poundage of your conversation. A trim loss in the grand scheme of things, you think.

“If I wasn’t drunk that night,” you repeat, voice enduring despite the wildfire bursting in your stomach. Every syllable is carefully weighed before you release it into the air between you, smoke curling from your lips as you watch Kylo’s countenance flicker between flippant, indistinguishable emotions. “Would you have done it?”

Finally, you’d learn whether Kylo Ren’s glances, touches, and his infuriating, insufferable behavior toward you had ever held any merit. If you’re particularly unlucky, he’ll return your advances. You’re unsure of what happens, then.

You stare into each other silently, breaths mingling. Anxiety prickles your stomach, coursing through your veins like a silent harbinger of doom.

Kylo’s eyes darken, filling with something you can’t fully interpret, before they inexplicably narrow with scorn. You taste bile.

“Don’t be stupid.”

Your stomach drops.

You think it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Kylo’s always been a bastard with cruel words, knowing exactly where to stick the knife to make it bleed the longest; yet something about this particular dismissal feels like a death toll.

The pang in your chest weaves through your lungs, squeezing and tugging like a serpent. A scoff tumbles past your lips before you can stop it. You lower your head, shielding your eyes before they can betray your falsified mein. “Right.”

You hear the sharp exhale he lets out at your tone, stepping from one foot to the other. When you finally glance up, his face is turned toward the horizon, the ascending evening sky casting its glow over his features. Warm, golden hues spill across the sharp planes of his face, bathing him in the coming of spring. Your heart swells.

And somehow, it’s that quiet pang of adoration that sets you off most.

Without another word, you pluck the spent joint from your fingers, flicking it into the plastic cup on the table.

“Is it because of her?” you ask steadily, watching the ember fizzle out in the shallow pool of water.

Kylo stiffens at the sharp edge in your voice, his jaw tightening as he angles his head toward the sky. You watch the muscles in his throat shift as he swallows thickly, face cast in light and shadow.

“No,” he finally croaks out, voice low and treacherous as your heart threatens to give out. “No—No, I was—”

“Then why?” You cut him off impatiently, voice breaking under the heavy weight of his ignorance. Pulled in too many directions at once, your chest aches with the pressure pulse of a frenzied drum against your ribs. “Why do you keep doing this?”

Kylo inhales sharply through his nose, fingers clenching into fists at his sides. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze locked somewhere in the distance, and judging by the way his nostrils flare, you know he’s just as furious as you are.

“It’s complicated.”

A bitter, disbelieving laugh bubbles up from your throat at the banal excuse. “Why? It doesn’t have—”

“But it is.” his voice is unyielding now, laced with a cold that prickles your skin.

You watch him with parted lips, his eyes flickering over your features with something you pray isn’t contempt.

He huffs, leaning his stiff shoulders against the railing.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

The words punch the air from your lungs, making you inhale sharply. You swallow, trying to fight the emerging sting behind your eyes as the self-pity within you shifts into a trembling fire of disdain.

"I just want the truth,” you mumble, voice flattening with impatience.

He looks at you with curiosity, but the tone of his reply simmers with an undeniable edge of contempt. "I gave you the truth."

"No,” you reply through a joyless chuckle, head shaking at his apparent stupor, “you gave me scraps. You gave me riddles and half-answers and the bare fucking minimum."

You watch his lips press together, eyes unmoving as a looming shadow. His secrecy has always driven you mad, but now? It feels like you’re at your wit’s end.

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his dark curls. They cascade down his neck, a stray lock falling into his face to frame the acerbity of his mein. "I told you it's complicated."

Your stomach twists, urging you to push harder. He wouldn’t get to play with you like that without a proper explanation, even if it meant the end of your non-friendship.

"Bullshit!” you hiss, voice laced with venom and an essence of doubt. You pause for a beat, surveying him through half-lidded eyes and taking in the lackluster expression painting his face. Your forehead pulsates. “You’re a coward, Ren."

His eyes snap to yours, dark and perilous at your daring proclamation. He scavenges your body from head to toe, sizing you up like a predator does his prey.

"Careful."

"Or what?" you spit through a scoff, pushing off the balustrade and raising your arms in a losing battle. "You’ll push me away?”

His jaw clenches. You catch his nostrils flare, fingers twitching.

“Because news flash, Kylo.” you trail bitterly, voice edging toward a strained yell. He watches you with surprising patience, dark pupils mirroring the brilliant sky. “You already fucking did."

His throat bobs as he swallows, body going wooden like he’s pushing himself to keep still. His fingers twitch again—like he wants to grab you, shake you, do something to break this damned tension once and for all.

Instead, he lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You act like I had a choice.”

Your jaw tightens, watching him with utter incredulity. While your belly rumbles with anger, you know that to a certain extent, you can’t deny his words. You don’t know much beyond the fact that he was cheated on and forced to live with his estranged sister. You’ve never known the details of his situation, or what keeps him coming back to the woman who irrevocably betrayed his trust.

He’s right.

You don’t know him.

Yet, that can’t keep you from probing for answers.

“Didn’t you?” you utter breathlessly, making his lip curl just enough to infuriate you further. He shakes his head, shooting you a cold scowl.

“Right, of course,” he scoffs, folding his arms as he faces you, “You know everything.”

You exhale in disbelief, planting your fists against your hips. “I know enough to know you’re being a fucking idiot about this.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, looking off to the side like he’s trying to physically restrain himself from saying something much worse. “Sure you do.”

“Oh, fuck off, Kylo,” your laugh is sharp and humorless when it leaves your lips. “You love talking in circles, don’t you? Like if you’re vague enough, you can get away with whatever the fuck you want.”

He finally turns back to you, empty expression betraying his otherwise razor-sharp tone. “God, why do you have to make everything about yourself?!”

Your arms drop to your sides as a sore chuckle escapes your throat. “Right. Because this has nothing to do with me.”

He shakes his head wildly, regurgitating a strained, joyless chuckle amidst the spread of his arms. “No! It really doesn’t!”

Your mouth cracks open at his careless expression, tone dropping an octave in a challenge. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he continues asceribly, shifting side to side. “You’re always so fucking dramatic. Not everything is about you and yours! And—and if you’d just—”

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” Your voice pitches higher as you gesture wildly between the two of you. “You’re the one who starts shit and then gets pissed when I have the nerve to bite back!”

Kylo’s tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his patience wearing thin with every word you utter. You hear him mumble something before facing you with a strained gust. His sudden calmness scares you more than the initial storm.

“I start shit?”

Kylo takes a step forward, and instinctively, you take one back. You can feel the cool metal of the balcony railing pressing into your lower back, but you refuse to let that stop you. You wouldn’t back down from this, even if it meant getting your ass handed to you.

You cross your arms over your chest, chin lifting defiantly. “Yes, Kylo. You do.”

His eyes flicker over your stance, his lips twitching slightly like he’s resisting the urge to smirk—like this is all just some fucking game to him, while you’re over the precipice of losing your mind.

“You always do.”

He cocks his head, expression flat but demanding. The sardonic smirk emerging at the corners of his lips is hilariously ironic, like he’s proving your point without trying.

“Anything else?” he huffs with fabricated lethargy, striking you with a sharp glare.

Oh, fuck no.

Your breath shudders as the turmoil bubbles over, burning your throat as the words spill out.

“Yeah.” You exhale sharply, hands clenching into tight fists, though you’ve got nothing. Your body trembles with adrenaline, urging you to spit acid in any way you can. “Would it kill you to treat me with human decency?”

Kylo scoffs loudly, tilting his head back like the idea alone is too much for him to entertain.

“Right.” He takes another step closer, eyes hooded. “Because you’re such a sweet, innocent angel.”

Despite the venom lacing his tone, his choice of words makes your thighs squeeze. It’s an instinctive reaction that makes you shake your head, lips parting in utter disbelief.

“At least I try.” Your voice is sharp, eyes burning into his. You push forward, ignoring the heat rising in your body. “But—but every time I want to be a friend, you—”

“God—Will you fucking stop that for once?” Kylo snaps, cutting you off with harsh, unfriendly laughter.

Your brows knit together, lips hanging ajar at his hasty defiance. Your eyes scan across his features, taking in the odd glint in his eyes. Everything around you simmers with heat.

“What?”

He shakes his head incredulously, raking a hand through his hair again. When he speaks, his voice is tighter than ever, loud and final like a stray bullet.

“Trying—trying to act like we’re fucking friends.” He gestures vaguely between you, devoid of tenderness. He meets your gaze, eyebrows low on his forehead as he hisses your name. “We’re not friends. Never will be. At best, we tolerate each other, and even that comes with its shitty fucking surprises.”

Your heart slams in your chest, pulsating in your ears. Your mouth moves before your brain has the chance to catch up, filling the buzz of your sermon with unforgiving bite.

“God forbid someone gives a shit about you.”

Kylo’s expression blackens. His whole body stiffens a margin, towering above you like a rage-filled statue splayed in hues of orange and red. His scowl says it all. You know you’ve hit a nerve before he even utters.

But then he leans in, barking through gritted teeth and a labored breath:

“I don’t fucking need you to.”

Your breath catches harshly, scraping your vocal cords. You force yourself to hold his gaze. Heat and electricity simmer between you, raising the thin hairs at the back of your neck.

You moisten your lips, meeting the man’s gaze with half-lidded eyes. Pressure builds within your chest, fluttering through your arms and legs like a powerful, undeniable current.

“Good,” you start quietly, toying an ill-tempered smile against your lips, “Because I don’t.”

You take a step forward, straightening your back and sizing him up. He watches keenly, nostrils flaring as you poke a digit into the firm plane of his ribs. Kylo’s breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in quick, erratic beats.

You lean in, your voice faint, razor-thin, and laced with a fatal malignancy.

“I fucking hate you, Ben.”

Birds cry into the setting sun, cars honking in the distance while Shuggie Otis croons through the speakers inside. A soft spring breeze blows through the balcony, tousling Kylo’s dark locks as he peeks at you through dark lashes.

A bitter smile curves at the edge of his mouth, taunting you as always.

“Say it again.” He murmurs, unhurried and nearly cruel.

Your pulse slams against your ribs, matching the beat of percussion. His eyes are locked onto yours, dark and penetrating with this simple, impossible dare.

You swallow thickly, shifting your digit into a full palm. It lingers against his chest, sinking into the rhythmic thrum as you furrow your brows, bearing a fearless step closer.

You flare your nostrils, pushing up slightly onto your toes.

“Kylo,” you trail quietly, his breath hot and moist on your cheeks. You part your lips, trembling, preparing to nail the coffin shut forever under the slow, percolating flicker of his eyes as they survey your eyes, cheeks, the parting of your lips.

He hums. Your heart roars beneath your ribs, pleading in agony.

“I hate y—”

Kylo’s lips crash hungrily onto yours.

His hands gently clamp around your jaw, fingers threading into your scalp as his mouth slants over yours for easier access. The air between you vanishes, swallowed by the sharp, heady collision of lips and teeth scraping in a desperate dance.

The taste of him floods your senses with resin, smoke, and something hauntingly sweet and tender that you lap up with discomfiting greed. He nips at your bottom lip, pulling and kissing.

Your fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt instinctively, nails scraping against his chest as you push up against him—desperate and thoroughly enraged at the audacity of his measures.

A groan tumbles deep within his throat, low and sultry as it vibrates against your tongue. His grip tightens, pulling and all-consuming, like he wants nothing more than to brand you with his touch.

And for a moment, you think you’ll let him.

“Kylo,” you mewl, feeling his large hands roam over your cheek and neck. It snakes to your waist, inching under your tank top and splaying over the small of your back.

“Shh,” he hushes, his mouth sloppily ghosting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat. His teeth graze against your skin, lips chasing the mark with something almost worshipful. His palm slides higher beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing your ribcage, coaxing a shudder from your body as he holds you tightly against the railing.

You whimper softly, throwing an arm around his neck and leaning your head back to grant him access.

You should stop this, you think—push him away. But instead, your fingers tangle in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, greedily wanting to feel more of him.

Until something shifts.

You’re caught up with his hold on you; like a porcelain doll, delicate and too precious to allow a break. His breath stutters when his lips brush over your pulse like he’s breathing new life, unraveling something irrevocably powerful.

It feels like giving in.

And suddenly, your resolve crumbles into nothing. Your body washes over with palpitating regret, urging your breath to catch at his tender nipping as he bucks his hips into yours.

Your hands flatten against his chest. “Kylo—”

He slows, lips lingering near your collarbone. His breath is heavy and warm against your skin as you give him a push, eliciting a soft moan from his plush lips.

A second passes. Then another.

He pulls back, dark eyes searching yours, obscured by something mildly animalistic. His grip loosens, sliding away from your body like he’s afraid of what he might do if he lingers.

The space between you stretches with a crackling silence. The city beyond hums with life, but all you can hear are your heavy breaths intermingling, lingering with the taste of each other.

You take a step back. Your throat tightens with the thousand things you want to say.

“I can’t,” is all you can utter, the whisper barely audible over the pounding in your ears.

Kylo exhales sharply, running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. His lips are swollen with the semblance of your kiss, eyes burning with a plunging, living fire that penetrates your heart like hot daggers.

He calls your name. The word is sweet and languid on his tongue, lined with the kind of softness you’ve never been the fortunate prey of. His hand tenses mid-air, fingers flexing at the devastating sight of your gaze sinking away from his.

And then, without another word, you turn and slip inside, leaving him alone in the woeful finale of your favorite song.

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vizslasaber · 1 year ago

Text

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── i.

summary: after landing on the umbaran surface, you butt heads with your fellow general—but get along swimmingly with your temporary clone captain.

pairing: captain rex x female jedi!reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: combat/action, mentions of injury + death, krell being a bitch, reader with a name instead of y/n because i hate it

a/n: it’s back!!! previously i posted this series on my main, @brrmian, but i changed that blog’s username and have mostly shifted over to fanart and general SW content. i’ve decided to dedicate this new side blog’s content entirely to fic writing under my old username, posting reader insert on here and everything else on ao3! this fic will be updated sparsely but definitely more often than it was on my main. i’ve changed a few things regarding the plot of this series specifically, and i like it a lot more now!!

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You hadn’t wanted to leave the Temple behind—you still don’t, even lightyears away from the Core.

When the Jedi Council had first made you aware of the plan to have you and a Master you’d never met capture an Umbaran airbase with troops that were not your own, you had put up something of a fight. What right, you demanded, did the Chancellor have the right to simply pull a Jedi from their sacred duty for a trivial air-to-ground assault?

The Council had either not wanted to answer this question or had not known how to, so now you stand on a transport gunship with two clone troopers and an intimidatingly tall Besalisk Jedi Master by the name of Pong Krell. Both of you are holding onto the grab handles hanging from the ceiling; you’re gripping the handle so tightly your knuckles are slightly pale, but Krell looks perfectly steady.

Of course he is, you think bitterly. He has four arms.

The atmosphere of Umbara is breathable but strangely thick—fog seeps through the blast door openings, and the lights inside the gunship’s passenger bay seem to have dimmed. Your lightsabers bump against your hips and you wince slightly as sounds of frantic gunfire reach your ears.

This will be your first campaign.

You have seen death before, on missions as a Padawan before the war—but never on this scale, if the reports of your already-knighted friends from the Temple are anything to go by. You only hope that you will be assigned your own battalion soon, so you don’t have to go running around replacing wayward Generals.

It’s hard, standing at the side of an imposing Master, not to feel like a Padawan. The skin behind your right ear burns with the memory of the braid that had been there just last week, waiting to be sheared off as you prepared for your ascension to Knighthood.

While your battalion assignment is pending, Master Windu told you as you stood in the center of the Council Chamber, the Senate has requested that we send two Jedi Knights to replace Skywalker on Umbara.

Master Krell is already on-world, assisting Master Kenobi, but he will need another Jedi’s help if he and the 501st are to take the capital in Skywalker’s stead, Master Plo explained, his hologram flickering as he called in from some faraway world.

All due respect, Masters, you remember asking as you willed yourself not to tremble, but why me? I’ve never been anywhere near the front. I wouldn’t be much help.

Believe in your potential, we do, Master Yoda said. An opportunity for you to do good, the Force has given you.

And that, it was decided, was that.

Even now, after meditating on your anxiety for practically the entire journey through hyperspace, your nerves feel impossibly frayed. The transport jostles, but you only sway slightly, arm already holding onto an overhead handle for balance. There’s a shiny new military-issue commlink attached to your right vambrace. A morbid thought, of calling in a medevac for injured soldiers with this very communicator, crosses your mind—but you let it dissipate.

The gunship suddenly makes a sharp dive, and your stomach swoops—you must be about to land. You spare a glance at General Krell, who has now let go of the grab handles and has crossed all four of his arms over his chest. For a moment, you’re almost tempted to ask how he manages to stay so balanced while the ship is moving, but then the blast doors slide open and the gunship lands in shadowy darkness.

The first person you see is Anakin Skywalker. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger—despite having been knighted several years earlier, as one of the first Padawan victims of the Jedi Military Integration Act. Your Master, ever traditional even when the Order began to stray from its centuries-old teachings, did her best to keep you apprenticed for as long as possible, but even that eventually proved futile.

In the end, you and Anakin are practically of the same age, and yet he has infinite more experience than you. Uncertainty wheedles its way into your chest and slips a pin into your lungs; you’re holding your breath as you follow Krell off the gunship.

Being far shorter than the Besalisk, you have to jump down. When you hit the ground, you shiver at the misty atmosphere, watching as bioluminescent specks of dust fly up underneath your boots.

As the two of you approach, you hear the troopers of the 501st legion mutter amongst themselves, but you push it aside and focus on the pleasantries.

“General Krell. General Neridian,” Anakin says, smiling graciously. “My thanks for the air support.”

“Indeed, General Skywalker,” Krell replies, bowing politely. “The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated.”

“We managed to get here in one piece, though,” you add jokingly, and Anakin smirks, his eyes twinkling. You gesture to the troopers unloading the gunship behind you. “And we brought ration resupplies.”

Anakin nods appreciatively, then raises one eyebrow after a moment, looking slightly confused. “But—that’s not the reason for your visit.”

“No,” Krell admits. “The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately.”

“What?” Skywalker demands. “Wh-why?”

“The Chancellor...” you pause, searching for a word, before you settle on, “insisted that you return. The Council had no say on the matter.”

“That is all they would tell us,” Krell adds, though he doesn’t sound displeased.

“Well, I—I can’t just leave my men!” Anakin protests, and for the first time you notice the trooper standing at attention beside him.

He’s identical to all the clones you’ve met, of course, except for one detail—his hair is blond. You wonder vaguely if it would be polite to ask him whether or not it’s natural as you survey his armor. The pauldron on his left shoulder indicates a position of command, but he carries a sense of individuality in the Force that, despite your inexperience with working with them, you’ve come to realize every clone has. His helmet is painted with a distinctly Mandalorian sigil, but it’s not one you recognize.

His gaze is pointed directly ahead; he makes no eye contact with you. Probably just as annoyed at the change of plans as Anakin is, you realize.

Krell moves to speak, jolting you from your thoughts. You recognize Anakin’s agitation, however, so you calmly move to intercept.

“The Council would not just leave your troopers to fend for themselves—not that they aren’t perfectly capable of doing so, of course,” you add, which merits the barest hint of a smile from the trooper standing beside Anakin. “It’s just… well, the Senate needs a Jedi to be at the head of every campaign, and I guess they figured subtracting one of you would mean—”

“—adding two other Jedi,” Anakin says with a snort of derision. “Yeah… sounds like the Senate. But you guys’ll probably get it done faster anyway.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, sir,” interjects the trooper, and Anakin looks to him. “We’ll have this city under control by the time you’re back.”

“Generals, this is Captain Rex, my first in command,” Anakin says fondly, and you see something like pride show itself in Rex’s eyes. “You won’t find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you affirm earnestly.

“Yes, that is good to hear,” Krell agrees, then places a large hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “I wish you well, Skywalker.”

Anakin simply nods at him, then stops beside you and says, “I hear you passed the Trials.”

You gesture to your hair, now void of a Padawan braid. “Apparently so,” you reply. “Funny, I didn’t think you were one to get swept into the rumour mill.”

A grin, boyish and bright, springs to Anakin’s face. “Nah, I’m always one for good gossip.” His expression turns softer, then, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, though… congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you say, but he’s already approaching the gunship and taking hold of one of the grab handles. The ship is off within seconds, and you can’t help but feel apprehensive as it flies away, up into the fog.

Taking a moment to gather yourself, you turn to Rex and offer a polite nod. He returns it, then says, “It is an honour to be serving with you, Generals.”

“The honour is all mine,” you return graciously, and Rex looks like he’s about to say something else, but stops when Krell begins to speak.

“I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honour,” he begins, then—almost as an afterthought—adds, “for a clone.”

Silence.

Your eyebrows shoot up, and as Rex stares at Krell in shock, you feel your armored chest tighten—with frustration or shock, you don’t yet know.

“Stand at attention when I address you,” Krell snaps, turning to face the other troopers, and as Rex obliges, you narrow your eyes and step forward.

“Master Krell,” you start, your jaw tightening, “I do believe it would be far more... prudent to show respect to the soldiers who have so graciously agreed to undertake this mission with us.” You tilt your head questioningly, sending your ponytail swaying. “After all—we are the ones who just arrived.”

A ripple of white-hot anger moves through the Force with lightning speed, but it’s gone before you can take time to process it. Now, all you can feel is something akin to gratitude, trickling like a cool waterfall from where Rex stands, back straight and eyes ahead.

“They agreed to nothing,” Krell counters, and you blink as his wide upper lip curls back to reveal a row of dangerously sharp teeth. “Do not forget, young one, that we are the Generals they serve under at present.”

“I...” you pause, momentarily at a loss for words, then clasp your hands behind your back and force your jaw to unclench. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I also haven’t forgotten that the only way to succeed in this endeavour is to work together.”

“And with what experience do you so kindly bestow this advice upon us, Knight Neridian?” Krell asks, and the question is like a bucket of ice water down the back of your robes.

You swallow, and search for the words to say, but none come. Cheeks burning with shame, you stare determinedly at the ground.

The tension in Krell’s Force signature disappears, as sudden as the crack of a whip, and he draws in a deep breath. You look up as the pouch-like piece of flesh under Krell’s chin grows in size and he begins to pace.

“Nevertheless,” Krell brushes off, acting as though none of your words register with him, “there’s a reason my command is so effective, and it’s because I do things by the book.” He walks past a soldier in an ARC Trooper uniform who has the number five tattooed on his right temple. The trooper doesn’t move as Krell passes him, but you can see a vein on his forehead bulge.

“And that includes protocol,” Krell puts in. He turns to you. “Have all platoons ready to move out immediately.”

You bristle. “I—I thought we were to make decisions together,” you protest, raising your chin defiantly.

Technically, there’s nothing to defy, seeing as you hold equal rank with Krell—but the Council specified in their briefing that this was supposed to be a learning experience, an introduction to combat before receiving your own battalion. And something about Master Krell demands respect, or at the very least obedience, despite the fact that you’re starting to want to do everything you can not to give it to him.

Krell simply huffs and turns around, his yellow eyes flashing, and walks away, leaving you surrounded by a platoon troopers.

You frown after him. “Well, now I know why Master Venn wished me good luck,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Some of the troopers snicker, but you hardly notice.

Your former master, Esya Venn, had pulled you aside just before leaving. The look on her face had been nothing short of concerned, but you’d shrugged it off in the moment, even when she’d told you to be careful, Padawan. She never told anyone to be careful—it was simply a reflex to think twice about your actions around Esya.

But now you understand.

Scrubbing a hand over your tired face, you take a deep breath and turn to Captain Rex. “Shall we set off?” you ask, and he nods, promptly putting on his helmet.

“Move out, soldiers!” he shouts, starting down the path after Krell. “Come on, let’s go!”

You give Rex a grateful smile, and though you can’t see his face, you know he’s returning it. With one last glance at the battalion, you hurry to the front and fall into step next to General Krell.

It’s silent for some time. Krell doesn’t deter, no matter how dark it gets, and after a while you begin to grow uncomfortable next to him. The anger you’d felt in the Force earlier is dormant, but certainly there, and it makes chills erupt down your spine.

"I’m going to check on the Captain,” you say, and Krell only nods when you turn around and quickly find Rex, who’s walking about two meters behind where you previously were.

The Captain salutes briefly. “General.”

“Captain,” you reply politely, before glancing back at Krell. “I can’t help but notice that there’s—” you pause for a moment. Do these troopers know enough about the Force to have conversations with you about it?

Knowing Anakin, you realize, they probably do, so you clear your throat and continue. “I get a strange feeling from Master Krell,” you say quietly.

Rex’s shoulders relax just slightly. “How so, sir?”

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I don’t know, exactly,” you reply, then gesture vaguely in front of you, where Krell is half-visible in the murky fog. “The Force around him is unclear. It’s... hard to explain.”

“Hard to explain, as in it’s a Jedi thing?” Rex guesses, and you grin widely.

“Yes,” you say. “It’s a Jedi thing.” Reaching up, you curl a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I may not be a Jedi, sir,” Rex says after a moment, “but I think I know what you mean by strange feeling.”

“Quicken that pace, battalion!” Krell suddenly shouts over his shoulder, and you jump. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino.”

You sigh and raise your voice, turning to the troopers. “What General Krell means,” you call, pointedly shooting a glare at the Besalik’s back, “is that we must continue to make good time. Keep up the good work.”

Krell gives no answer, but you feel a ripple of frustration coming from his direction. There’s another thread in the Force, one of gratitude, but you can’t tell where exactly it’s coming from. You latch onto it nonetheless and file the feeling away for later, letting yourself make an easy pace just ahead of Rex.

“He certainly has a way with words,” you hear one of the clones say, and when you glance behind you out of the corner of your eye, you can see that the source is someone with similar armor to Rex’s. Another ARC, or someone of similar rank.

There’s a sigh. You think it’s from Rex. The troopers obviously don’t know you’re listening, so you direct your gaze ahead, keeping your pace steady.

“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex explains, voice hushed and sounding a bit sheepish.

"By raising everyone’s ire?” the other trooper grumbles.

“Either way, he’s in charge,” Rex protests. “And we’ve got a job to do.”

“She’s in charge, too,” hisses the trooper, and you purse your lips, knowing he’s pointing to you.

Another sigh, again from Rex. “Just—treat them both with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”

You’re about to turn around when your neck stiffens. It’s an instinctual reaction, like the Force tapping you on the shoulder—one that you’ve learned to interpret as a warning. Less than a second later, a loud screech echoes above your head.

“Ready your weapons!” Rex shouts, at the same moment you draw one lightsaber.

Faster than your eyes can process, a winged creature swoops down and grabs a trooper—but you don’t need your eyes. The cyan beam of your lightsaber casts a glow on the shadowy ground, and you jump upwards, landing on a large plant that allows you to swing from a vine and graze the blade across the wing of one of the creatures. It falls to the ground with another screech before flying away, relatively unharmed.

One to go.

You’re about to grab hold of a second vine and swing towards the other creature, but a flash of blurred blue and green makes you pull back—Krell beats you to it, landing on top of the creature and wrestling it to the ground.

“Wait—stop!” you shout as he draws his lightsabers, but it’s too late. He’s already skewered the creature mercilessly, and it lies dead on the ground, life blinking out of the Force in an instant.

You jump off of the large plant, landing on both feet, and hook your now deactivated lightsaber onto your belt. “Why did you kill it?” you demand, pushing past several onlooking clones.

“It is nothing more than a violent inhabitant of this area,” Krell dismisses, and you feel your jaw drop.

“But…” you start, at a loss for words. “The Code decrees—”

“The Code,” Krell says coldly as he turns to stare at you, “allows for self defense.”

You draw yourself up to your full height, switching off your lightsaber with a snap-hiss before hooking it back onto your belt. “That’s not what—”

Krell’s lightsabers deactivate loudly, cutting you off, and he returns them to either side of his belt before turning away and continuing on the path. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”

No one answers, but you feel your fists clench as if of their own accord.

This is going to be a long night.

Umbara’s plant life is fascinating. Observing the bioluminescent life forms is the only thing that serves a proper distraction from both the grumbling clone troopers and the pit of apprehension in your stomach. You’d been walking for twelve hours, give or take, and every time you’d tried to suggest a break to Krell, he’d snapped at you.

This can’t be allowed, you think bitterly, skipping over a glowing pink tree root, boots skidding on the dark purple ground.

You chew on your bottom lip and glance at the clones behind you. They are understandably worn out, and even with the extensive survival training Master Esya drilled into you as a Padawan, you were starting to get tired, too.

“Sir,” says a voice from behind you, and you jump, expecting in your exhaustion to see Krell—but it’s just Rex.

“We’ve been keeping this pace for almost half a rotation,” Rex points out, sounding vaguely nervous. “The men are... starting to tire. General Krell is...” he tilts his head, expressionless visor unreadable. “You know.”

You muster a smile, hoping you look at least a little like Master Enya, and nod.

“I know, Captain,” you say, and he shifts slightly, as though his blue-painted pauldron is uncomfortable. You can’t blame him. Running a hand over your ponytail, you blow out a breath and frown at the puff of air that appears in front of you. “Let me talk to him. Tell the men to start searching for a good spot to camp for a few hours.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Rex giving an affirmative thumbs up to the troopers behind him, but by then you’re already approaching Krell, clasping your hands tightly behind your back.

“Master Krell,” you start, and Krell turns his head just a bit. “I’ve told the men to scout for a place to rest. I reviewed the mission plan on the way here, and we can spare three hours without being delayed, possibly more—”

“The men don’t need rest,” Krell interrupts, and you feel your cheeks flush with anger. “They need resolve to complete the task at hand.”

“Apologies, Master,” you say, squaring your shoulders as frustration heats your neck and face. You breathe deeply. There is no emotion, only peace. “But I don’t think the men will be on their best game when we reach the capital if they don’t take some time to gather themselves.”

“That they need to ‘gather themselves’ is a sign of weakness,” Krell cuts in, stopping and turning to face you with a sneer. “That is not what these clones were bred for.”

Not far away, many of the soldiers bristle at Krell’s choice of words, but you keep your focus on the yellow eyes staring you down for the second time that night.

“They weren’t bred to be mindless droids, either,” you argue, crossing your arms over your chest and making sure to keep your voice even. “And in case you’ve forgotten, even battle droids need to recharge. If we march on the Capital without any sort of break first, I promise you, this mission will not go as planned. Exhausted and underfed soldiers are a guaranteed disadvantage.”

Krell studies you, a sneer forming on his lips. “I see you take after your Master’s incessant need to get the last word on anyone she disagrees with.”

You scowl. “I beg your pardon, but Master Venn is—”

He ignores you, cutting past where you stand and walking away. “Do what you wish, Neridian,” he dismisses, then walks away to stand by a glowing tree.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you close your eyes. It’s becoming harder and harder not to snap at him—but you know what the Order’s teachings require of you. Emotion, yet peace.

You grimace as Krell retreats to the back of the line, then turn back to the troopers nearby and give Rex a nod. The captain returns it in what you hope is a grateful manner, then calls for the men to make camp at the top of the ridge your group has been climbing.

By the time you gather all the troopers together, the battalion has put together a hasty campsite, with half the troopers having fallen into a fitful sleep and the other half keeping watch while eating as many rations as the limit allows. You frown and approach the trooper you heard Rex talking to earlier, his Force signature familiar from when you were eavesdropping. His helmet is now sitting in his lap, being meticulously cleaned with what little supplies the battalion has on hand.

You study the soldier. He has a tattoo on his right temple, and upon studying it, you realize it’s the same ARC trooper who’d been glaring at Krell when you stepped off the gunship. You wonder what significance the number five has to him.

Taking another step forward, you clear your throat. “Trooper,” you begin, and the soldier looks up curiously before abruptly shooting to his feet and snapping off a salute. You wave a nonchalant hand. “No need for that. I only wanted to ask a favor—can you gather troopers to stand watch? Six at a time, tops, and make sure they take turns so everyone can rest. That includes you.”

“You got it, sir,” says the trooper, and you smile.

“Sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name...” you say, then, and the trooper blinks.

“Oh, uh—it’s Fives, sir.”

“I see,” you reply, gaze flickering to his tattoo and back again. “Thank you, Fives.”

You retreat to your own tent soon after, shrugging off your vambraces and arranging them neatly next to your bedroll. This wouldn’t be the shortest sleep cycle you’d had, what with the nature of your apprenticeship at the temple—but not the longest, either.

From what you can hear inside your tent, the camp is silent. Slowly, you poke your head through the canvas flaps to find exactly six men—as you’d requested—sitting in the center of camp. Farther away, at the outskirts of the circle of tents, sits Master Krell’s hulking form. In spite of yourself, you frown.

“General?” asks a sudden voice above you; letting out an involuntary yelp, you scramble backwards before stopping at the sight of Rex standing near the entrance to your tent.

Embarrassed, you stand up, brushing off your cream-coloured robes. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I could swear I’m not usually so jumpy, I don’t know what—” you look up and stop short.

Rex has removed his helmet.

His blond hair isn’t a surprise this time around, but close up, you’re struck by how tired he looks. There are smile lines at the corners of his eyes, but his face is cast in exhausted shadows.

You wonder if a full night’s sleep is something he’s ever had, or if the training regiments on Kamino prepared him and his brothers for this kind of halfhearted sleep cycle. Curiously, you study him.

Rex’s eyes are golden-brown in the dying light of this shadowy planet. They’re the same shade as all the troopers in the immediate vicinity. And yet, as you stare into them, something in you stirs as your Force signature brushes against his—something you know you’re not supposed to feel.

“Er, General,” Rex repeats, jolting you from your faraway thoughts. “I just wanted to let you know—the scouts are detecting a clear journey from here on out. We have approximately four hours to kick back, as predicted.”

Hurriedly, you turn away and clear your throat awkwardly. “Very good, Captain,” you mumble. “Thank you. You’re—erm, free to go and rest.”

For a moment, Rex looks surprised, but he composes himself seconds later. “Thank you, General,” he says. “But I—”

“Not up for debate,” you interrupt, holding your hand up. Bemused, Rex blinks, so you shoot him a reassuring smile. “You said it yourself: the soldiers need rest. You’re a soldier, yes?”

Rex opens his mouth, probably to say something about him being a Captain, but you lower your hand to rest it on his shoulder. The kind gesture seems to quell him, so you continue. “Don’t exclude yourself in that. Rest well, Captain.”

When you turn and reenter your tent, you don’t catch the way Rex’s eyes linger on the closed flap for far longer than they should, heat prickling up his neck as the remnant of your touch burns itself through his pauldron.

“You too… General.”

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wanderinginksplot-writes · 1 month ago

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Hunter + Separated

Hunter x fem!reader, established relationship

This was written to answer @leotawrites request from... like a year ago: They get separated during the battle on Tantiss and find each other again after it's all done.

I realized way too late in the process that I didn't need to write what she was doing during the battle itself. 🤦 But this got me through the worst of my writer's block, so thank you!

Word Count: 3,100

Warnings: Spoilers for the series finale of Star Wars: The Bad Batch, references to battle, mentions of torture and myriad injuries, guilt, and grief.

Masterlist

---

Hunter scanned the dark treeline over and over, calling your name as loudly as he dared.

“Shut up!” Crosshair hissed, shoving at his shoulder. “You’ll give away our position.”

Hunter glared at his brother. “Pretty sure those bolts mean they already know our position.”

Crosshair gave him a mulish look. “Not exactly. They have an idea, but everyone who actually saw us was neutralized by Wrecker’s new friend.”

“Wouldn’t call it a friend,” Wrecker muttered, gripping his shoulder. The unknown beast had done its best to take a chunk out of him before Wrecker could fight it off. Even through the cover of his helmet, Hunter could tell that Wrecker was wincing.

“She’s gone,” Hunter told them both, not needing to explain who exactly ‘she’ was. You were the only unknown in the situation outside of Echo and Omega. And the Batch was closing in on their location as quickly as possible.

“I saw,” Crosshair agreed. “She went after Rampart.”

Wrecker scoffed, glancing out at the forest. “Rampart? He’s not gonna last ten minutes out there with those things.”

Hunter could feel the look Crosshair gave Wrecker, just as he could sense Wrecker’s sheepish regret. “Not that she won’t- She can take care of herself. She’s fast.”

“I can find her,” Hunter insisted. It wasn’t a lie, or even an exaggeration. The two of you had been dating for some time - well, as much as anyone could find time to date around the horrors of fleeing the Empire. He knew your face, your voice, your scent, the vibrations of your footsteps.

He knew where you were at that very moment. Not an exact location, since there were a lot of people in these woods, but he could get within a few yards of your trail and track you from there.

Even as Wrecker and Crosshair glanced at each other, Hunter scowled behind his helmet. He could find you with his eyes closed, even on Tantiss, but there just wasn’t time.

“But we’re here for Omega.” The gravity of the situation dripped from Hunter’s tone, mingling with frustration and a tinge of defeat. “We need to get her out of there while we still can.”

“You two track her and I’ll go get Omega,” Crosshair offered. “You can get past the creatures and Wrecker can guard your back from the reinforcements that were sent out.”

Wrecker froze. “Wai- What? No. We need to stay together.”

You were getting further away. Hunter could feel it, sense the way your footsteps were heading deeper into the forest. He listened until the sound of his own heartbeat covered the sound of yours. It seemed… empty without the steadily echoing thump of your heart behind his.

“Clone Force 99 died with Tech,” Crosshair snapped, and Hunter pulled his full attention to the conversation at hand. Crosshair was… offering to go retrieve Omega. Without backup. He would be totally alone, all so Hunter could search for you with Wrecker along for backup.

“No,” Hunter refused, drawing on the familiar authority he’d held when he was the sergeant of the squad. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but he slipped into the old role like it had never left him. “Omega needs us. All of us. So we’re doing this together.”

Hunter glanced between his brothers, seeing the ghost of a goggled face among them. “Let’s go get Omega.”

—

You were so sick of Rampart.

The man had never been anything other than a thorn in your side, but you had agreed that capturing him was your best chance of finding Tantiss’s location. That didn’t mean you had to like him.

Still, you weren’t willing to let him run off and die horribly… or, as a bigger concern, tell the Empire about the Bad Batch’s location. That would be exactly something he would do, you thought grimly, give up everyone else in a last-ditch effort to save his own skin.

And then you had to try really hard not to think about parallels, because you watched a group of troopers capture him, and you did nothing to help. You reasoned that there wasn’t much you could do against a whole platoon, but you really didn’t feel guilty in the slightest as you watched them attach the binders to Rampart’s wrists and march him roughly onto their waiting transport.

At least you had done your best to recapture the asset.

You turned, fighting the urge to literally dust your hands free of the situation, but you froze soon afterward. You… had no idea where the rest of the Batch could be. Rampart had run in a reasonably straight line, but there weren’t many distinguishing marks in the forest. You had no idea whether you could find the others and, even if you could get back to the right clearing, whether anyone would still be there. It wasn’t like they could wait around forever.

Traveling with the Bad Batch had honed a lot of your skills, especially in choosing a path and executing the right steps for it, but you froze for a moment as you weighed the pros and cons of the different ways you could handle the situation.

A loud, horrible crack drew your attention toward the mountain. You had half a moment to wonder whether the Empire would be stupid enough to build their ultra-secret laboratory into an active volcano, but a rush of sound told you something else was happening.

You picked your way through the trees, moving gingerly to avoid the hyper-alert troopers. Eventually, you made your way to a ridge tall enough to look out over the mountain. There, so far around the other side that it was nearly out of view, you could see an interruption in the otherwise-uniform silhouette of the mountain’s slopes.

Squinting didn’t help much in the dim light of the moon, but you tried it anyway. Was it a landslide? That would be an incredible coincidence, and you were starting to doubt that those ever truly happened.

Your eyes widened when you finally saw the towering creature fighting its way free of the mountain. You hadn’t the slightest clue what it was or how it had gotten there, but it had to have something to do with the Bad Batch. There wasn’t enough coincidence in the entire galaxy to explain that away.

At first, the giant hole in the side of the mountain seemed like an ideal place to get inside, but then you saw a swarm of troopers descending on the area.

You ducked for cover as an approaching ship hovered lower and lower until it gently came to land in a nearby clearing. The doors opened, releasing another platoon. Every trooper took up a position, aiming into the forest. You held your breath to cut off all movement, but you noticed that they weren’t aiming at anything in particular.

“Make for the entrance, men,” the leader ordered, his voice slightly rough through the distortion of his helmet’s external speakers. “We got warning that some of the insurgents are trying to infiltrate through it.”

One of the other troopers piped up: “Sir, we don’t have the men to build a formation big enough to-”

“Then we’ll start a partial formation,” the leader said grimly. “Our backup can fill in the gaps when they arrive. Understood?”

A chorus of ‘Yes, sir!’s met him, then they clattered their way off through the dark forest toward the smoking ruin that formed a large chunk of the mountain’s base.

You eyed the now-empty ship. There was a pilot onboard, and you didn’t think you could do anything as wild as capture a transport before he alerted the chain of command about what was happening. But you could sneak on, especially since he was only just starting to prepare the ship for takeoff.

A low, scurrying run wasn’t elegant and you knew that Crosshair would mock you mercilessly if he ever saw it, but it got you to the ship before the doors closed, and the pilot didn’t seem to have seen you. There were holorecorders in the main section of the ship, but their activation happened fairly late in the pre-flight process and you were pretty sure the pilot hadn’t gotten there yet.

The small corridor built for droids would work to shield you from the holorecorders, as well as anyone who might board the ship. If you were lucky, you could get off the ship between landing inside the mountain and the next group of soldiers getting onboard. And if you were unlucky, you could ride comfortably in the corridor. It wasn’t pressurized, but you would be fine as long as the ship didn’t break atmosphere.

However, when the ship landed, the pilot powered down the ship and left. You sat huddled in the droid corridor for a count of three-hundred, but didn’t hear any sounds. Not on the ship, anyway - distant explosions echoed through the hangar.

Finally, you emerged, checking carefully that you were alone. You were, but you hesitated before you left the dubious shelter of the LAAT/i. It wouldn’t be impossible for the Batch to blow up Tantiss entirely, in which case, it would be smartest to take the ship and leave.

But they could also need your help. And if they did, you couldn’t bear to leave them behind and risk them being injured or worse.

So you stepped off the ship, reasoning that they wouldn’t have had time to evacuate all of the troopers yet. Still, there was an extra energy in your step as you raced toward the action. You needed to make sure they knew you were there so they didn’t leave you behind.

When you were close enough to smell the smoke, a skull emerged from the shadows.

You gasped, freezing in place with your hands raised defensively. With more than a split second to look ahead, you could see that it wasn’t a skull at all, but a dangerously emaciated clone trooper.

He was watching you, sunken eyes wary. You kept your hands where they were, though you were less concerned about ghosts than you were about the DC-17M blaster rifle the trooper held pointed at your heart.

“Who are you?” he demanded, a reedy edge to his harsh voice.

You gave your name. You were only dimly aware that there were other troopers approaching behind the one with the rifle - your entire focus had narrowed on the muzzle of the blaster and the wild eyes of the clone trooper. “I’m with-”

“Stand down, trooper,” a more familiar voice ordered.

“Echo!” you greeted gratefully. A glance to the side made your smile grow. “And Omega! Good to see you both.”

“What are you doing here?” Omega asked, watching the unfamiliar clone trooper lower the blaster.

“Looking for the others,” you explained. “I lost them outside of the mountain. Have you seen them?”

“Captured,” Echo said grimly.

Your heart squeezed with fear and horror. Some of that must have bled through to your expression, because Omega gave an encouraging nod. “Don’t worry - we’re going to save them now. We just need to get these injured clones to a ship.”

“There are a few LAAT/is in the hangar,” you remembered, hooking a thumb back over your shoulder. “That’s how I got here.”

“You can fly a LAAT/i?” Echo asked.

You shook your head. “I stowed away.”

“I can,” one of the other troopers volunteered. “I can fly any ship in the Republic fleet. Just get to me to it and I can do the rest.”

There was a sinking feeling in your gut at that. Sure enough, Omega was watching you hopefully when you turned around.

“Omega, I-”

“We need you to,” Echo interrupted firmly. “I’ll take a volunteer group of troopers to go save them, but we need you to get these men to a ship.”

“I can’t just leave,” you argued.

“No one said you have to leave,” Omega corrected. “Just take them to the hangar and get them on a ship. Then come find us. You have Echo’s comlink frequency. Track it and that’ll show you where we are.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Echo said, looking uncomfortable at the idea of bringing someone new into whatever situation he expected to find.

Omega shrugged up at him. “We need all the help we can get.”

Echo’s sigh only served as a wordless agreement.

“Fine, I’ll see you both soon,” you decided. “Everyone else, follow me. I’ll get you to the hangar.”

The process of guiding the troopers wasn’t quick, but it was remarkably efficient. They had already figured out who was well enough to help the others and who should be at the front of the group to help set the pace. That was especially convenient, since it allowed you to help the troopers who were struggling the most without having to leave your place leading the group.

At long last, you had helped everyone load onto a LAAT/i and passed along the coordinates Echo had sent to get them to a safe system. The instant you were safely off the ship, the pilot deftly flew the ship into the pouring rain and you rushed back into the belly of the mountain.

Echo’s comlink frequency wasn’t moving.

That wouldn’t have been too concerning, but it continued not to move for most of the time it took you to reach it. You sent up a prayer to whatever gods were listening that he had simply dropped the comlink. The idea of something worse happening was enough to send you into near-panic.

The sound of your name being called behind you made you freeze. “Hunter-?”

When you had passed the large door, it had been closed. You hadn’t actually known that it led outside, but with the door panel standing open, you could see the long path to a landing platform fading away behind sheets of rain.

More importantly, Hunter, Crosshair, and Omega were just inside that door, dripping wet and looking exhausted.

“What happened?” you demanded, rushing to them. “Are you hurt? Crosshair, your hand… We have to go! Hemlock could be here any moment-”

“Mesh’la,” Hunter cut in, grasping your shoulders so you would pay attention. “We don’t have to worry about Hemlock. Not now. Not ever again.” He took a shaking breath and hugged you close. “We’re finally safe.”

You cradled him against you, nodding in acknowledgment as Omega gestured that she was going to find a ship. She and Crosshair moved around you both, headed toward the hangar.

Hunter smelled like sweat and electricity, his body trembling like a leaf. He pressed his face beneath your jaw and took a deep breath. You could feel the heat of tears against the skin of your neck. Even there, in the horrible aftermath of a long and painful battle, you found a moment to soak each other in.

Later that night, you jolted awake in your bunk aboard the Havoc Marauder. The lights of hyperspace flashed beyond the viewport covers, but that wasn’t what had jarred you back to consciousness - the bed was empty.

It didn’t take long to find Hunter; he was in the cockpit. There wasn’t any manual flying to do, since you were in hyperspace and would continue to be for hours, but he was staring through the viewport as if he was concentrating intently.

“Hunter?” you asked gently.

With his enhanced senses, there was no way he hadn’t heard you approaching, but there was something odd about the set of his shoulders. You wouldn’t risk startling him, not after he had been through so much so recently.

He hummed softly in answer. You took that as an invitation and stepped into the cockpit.

When you were sitting in the copilot’s chair, you let yourself look over at Hunter. His eyes were aimed out of the viewport, but they weren’t as sharp as you thought they would be. Instead, he seemed to be staring through the transparisteel blankly, his focus clearly aimed at his own thoughts instead of at the stars rushing past.

“Are… are you okay?” you asked, fully knowing how silly the question was but unable to articulate it any other way.

“I don’t know yet.”

The answer was quiet and soft, more thoughtful than dismissive. You nodded understandingly.

“It’s hard to believe it’s all over.”

“Is it over?” Hunter shook his head. “Every time I think about… about today… I have to wonder if there isn’t something else going on.”

You frowned. It was hard not to ask too many questions, especially when he was saying things that made you worry. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hunter sighed lightly, little more than an exhale through his nose. “Not much to talk about. The Kaminoans could break us down and put us back together by the molecule. Hemlock had to do it the hard way. Shocks, beatings, psychological reprogramming. He wanted to turn us into his own soldiers.”

Your throat went tight at the dismissive tone he used. You reached out, closing the distance between your chair and his to hold his hand. Hunter accepted the touch easily, slipping his fingers through yours and giving a little squeeze.

“You want to know the worst part?” Strictly speaking, you weren’t sure that you did, but you nodded anyway. “There were others there that were Hemlock’s soldiers. He had a team he used to capture us and I couldn’t stop thinking… What if he did that to Tech? What if one of those men was my own brother?”

Hunter’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, his voice tight. You stood, wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage. Even as he returned your hug, Hunter choked out, “How can things be over if Tech could still be out there?”

“Let’s get everyone to safety first,” you suggested slowly. “When that’s done, we can go wherever you want. We’ll find him.”

“And Omega?” he asked, almost desperate. “She finally has a chance to be a normal kid. How could I take that from her?”

“Stars, Hunter, we have contacts across the galaxy.” You stroked gentle fingertips through his hair. “We can gather leads from Pabu and, if we find something solid enough, we’ll go check it out. You can decide then if you want to get anyone else involved or not.”

Hunter’s laugh was teary but sincere. “How do you make it sound so simple?”

“Because it is,” you reminded him. “We’re together and we’re alive. We can figure out anything else.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your palm. “We’ll figure it out. Together. I love you, mesh’la.” “I love you too, Hunter,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. “Everything will be okay. We’ll make it okay.”

---

Author's Note - As you can probably tell, I lean toward the theory that Tech isn't perma-dead. We'll see!

Thank you for reading, and thank you to everyone who made requests and is being so so patient while I work through my insane number of wips.

#star wars #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #sw tbb #tbb hunter #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #echo #omega #hunter x reader #hunter x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #star wars fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #fic requests #ink's fics

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spooky-daggers · 2 months ago

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Perfect- Oddball x F!Reader

AO3

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 8,369

Summary: You're a mechanic and droidsmith that works among the 212th Attack Battalion. During your time among them, you've fallen in love with clone commander and pilot, Oddball (Davijaan). Tonight, you've planned the perfect dinner date, but your plans go off the rails when Oddball sees you in your new dress.

Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Intimacy, Idiots in Love, Gift Giving, Kissing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Romantic Gestures, Date Night, Established Relationship, Sex, Blow Jobs, Making Out, Making Love, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, 2nd person POV, No Y/N, Reader with a clone-gifted nickname, Multiple POVs

#star wars #sw tcw #tcw #the clone wars #clone x oc #clone x reader #commander oddball #davijaan #oddball #clone romance #oddball x reader #cc-2237 #clone pilot #clone pilot oddball #spooky writes fanfics #clone fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #spooky daggers #reader insert

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k8s--space · 29 days ago

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AO3 Master List

IN-PROGRESS STORIES:

"More Than Empty Servitude”

Captain Rex/Female Reader TCW timeline slow burn

Rating: Explicit

Part I Chapters: 79/79

Part II Chapters: 1/?

"The Rain of Kamino"

Commander Oddball/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 3/?

FINISHED STORIES:

"Call Signs"

Commander Oddball/Female Reader

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 4/4

"Ode to the Regs"

A remembrance for those whose stories still deserve to be told.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

"New Armor, Old Memories"

Post TBB story. Rex bestows Echo with a surprising set of armor.

Rating: G

Chapters: 3/3

"Wim and The Warrior"

Skeleton Crew "What-if" story featuring Kix.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

"Camaraderie Amidst Chaos"

A glimpse into the Battle of Ryloth from Echo’s POV.

Rating: Teen

Chapters: 1/1

"Let it Out"

Kix encourages Echo and Fives to open up about Domino Squad.

Rating: G

Chapters: 1/1

SOCIALS, UPDATES, & THANK-YOUS:

Kofi

Instagram

Banner art by @rackcty

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ireadwithmyears · 1 year ago

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even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do.

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough.

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls.

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room.

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved.

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew.

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night.

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.”

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.”

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away.

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his.

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?”

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall.

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth.

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood.

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him.

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth.

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision. The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated.

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that.

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests.

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear.

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight.

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh.

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers.

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted.

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat.

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp.

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper.

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize.

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place.

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh.

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward.

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed.

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sinfulsalutations · 2 years ago

Text

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly.

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

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slut-for-hayden-christian · 7 months ago

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Friends with benefits~

Summary~ Anakin just got out of his long term relationship with his childhood love papme. To help get over his heart break he starts a fwb relationship with his best friend's little sister. Unfortunately the reader falls for him (who wouldn't) she tells him and he blows up at her ending the relationship. Until a few weeks later they end up at the same party.

Warnings~ smut~mdni~ anis an ass-hole what's new~i love to cuss~ lots of mentions of sex~self deprecation~ ooc anakin~ porn with plot~ cream pie~ no condom (please wrap that shit!) this is so un proof read it’s actually crazy

Anakin sighed contently, rolling off the heaving girl beneath him. Anakin had just been dumped by his childhood love, padme.

Anakin lit a cigarette while he watched y/n stumble around his room, trying to hurry and get dressed. “Hey ani” she asked as she pulled her shirt over her head, “hmm” he hummed, lazily looking over her body, her lower half still being naked.

She took a second to build her confidence before she asked “can i talk to you before i go” as she waited for his answer she found and started to pull up her panties. “Yeah i guess” anakin shrugged, exhaling smoke.

y/n smiled at him shyly, “well i just, what i want to say is, i know that our agreement says no feelings, but um-” anakin sat up quickly startling y/n and cutting her off. “No fucking buts thats the only way this continues” he glared at the startled girl.

y/n sighed “ani i have feelings for you…” y/n was relieved to get that off her chest. Anakin stood up towering over y/n. “I still have feelings for padme y/n!” Anakin raised his voice, the volume making y/n flinch.”oh” she tears up knowing where this was about to go.

Anakin pinched the bridge of his nose “dont fucking cry! We made a agreement- no fucking strings” he passed the room “ i have been keeping my end of the deal, what the fuck!” he looked over to y/n glaring daggers at her. “ i pretend your padme y/n, everytime”

y/n's eyes widened “what..” she asked, wishing she had just kept quiet in the first place. He stalked over to her, causing her to take a few steps back. “You heard me, I pretended you were padme.” y/n's whole body went frigid~ she could handle him still being in love with padme, but what honestly hurt her was that.

y/n looked down slowly and quietly grabbing her things, she didn't wanna talk she just wanted to leave and never come back. y/n pulled her pants on and opened the door to leave, he paused when anakin called out to her. “y/n. This is over, don't ever come back, call or text me again”

y/n nodded before leaving the room, quite sobs escaping through her lips. How could she have been stupid enough to fall for him, to believe he might have had feelings for her!

Two weeks came and went, but y/n wouldn't leave her room, obi wan was worried for his little sister, not understanding why she was acting like this. Obi wan could only assume it had to be a boy who left his sister depressed.

Obi wan had been explaining this problem to Anakin, who sat across the table at their favorite bar. Anakin felt shots of pain through his whole body anytime Obi wan would bring it up. Anakin felt like shit knowing he was the reason behind her suffering, and she was a really good freind of his before he fucked it up, not only that but she was his little sisters best friend! How could he do something so vile.

“I'm sure she will be fine, obi, she's a strong girl” anakin told obi wan as well as himself. obi wan nodded “trust me i know she's strong, bit she needs to get out of her room she hasn't eaten all week” obi sighed, he was really worried for her, having never seen her have this reaction to a boy before.

Anakin shifted in his seat, “she hasn't been eating” anakin was really starting to get worried. Obi wan just nodded his head solemnly. “I-im sure she will get better soon” anakin reassured his friend and also himself.

y/n decided that she was done letting anakin bitch-walker get the best of her. Padme was having a party tonight and y/n was going to it! And she was not leaving until she got laid. Why be caught up on a man who never even liked her when you can go to a party and be with someone who does.

y/n called asoka, patiently waiting for her to answer. “Hello!” came Asoka's hyper voice. “Hey soka i'm going to padme's party tonight, you coming” y/n heard a loud crash on the other side of the call, “duh, wanna come over and get ready” y/n froze, “actually how bout you come her this time” asoka agreed, saying she would bring alcohol to pregame.

y/n opens her closet wondering what she should where, y/n pulls out a black lace top she had originally gotten for anakin.. His loss she shrugged. She set the top on her bed. Then she pulled out a cute skirt, it was plain black but matched the vibe perfectly. To accessorize the skirt she pulled out a black chain belt. Happy with the base she then pulled out long black heeled boots and the rest of her accessories.

y/n and asoka blasted music in y/n's small bathroom as they got ready excitedly. Asoka looked hot, the colors she picked complementing her skin tone perfectly. “You look soooooo hot soka” y/n squealed, asoka giggleed “i look hot~ girl have you seen yourself” they both checked themselves out “were bad bitches” y/n smiled, asoka nodded “oh one hundred present”

“Grab the boos and lets get the fuck out of here” y/n yelled more then ready to go out for the first time in weeks. Asoka happily did just that, grateful that her best friend was out of her room. Asoka grabbed the boos before following y/n out to the uber y/n had called.

Anakin stood next to obi, slowly taking sips from his cup as his eyes scanned the area. After the break up with Padme he had felt this strange emptiness, that he somehow made worse when he ended things with y/n.

He was looking for Padme, hoping he might be able to mend their broken relationship. He loved her, or at least the thought he did, he wasn't so sure anymore. Finally anakin makes eye contact with padme, “i’ll be back obi” anakin mumbled to obi wan before walking over to where padme stood.

y/n and soka finally made it to the party, separating at the entrance to find who their going to fuck tonight. y/n was honestly hoping that Anakin wouldn't be here, but she knew that was really unlikely seeing as this is Padme's party, and Anakin only cares about her..y/n rolled her eyes at the thought.

y/n honestly never wanted to see anakin again after what he said, but that simply isn't possible, anakin was her brother's best friend and her best friend's brother. It honestly all felt like some kind of cruel joke.

“Hey beautiful~” an unfamiliar voice said from behind y/n, she turned around, met with a strikingly handsome man, “hi handsome” she smiled seductively. The man had the bluest eyes hse had ever seen, and that's saying something when comparing to Anakin's blue eyes. He had short brown hair and a cute crooked smile.

“My name's tom-you?” he said over the loud music. y/n thought he was really handsome~ someone she could one hundred percent see herself fucking.. “y/n” he smiled “your name’s as beautiful as you are” tom put a hand on y/ns lower waist, gently tugging her closer. y/n giggled, deciding she found who she was going to be with tonight.

“Hi padme.. How have you been? "Anakin asked, sliding up next to her. Padme smiled kindly at Anakin, “ hi ani.. I've been good, how bout you” anakin smiled and the fucking beautful girl.

“I'm not going to lie i have missed you a lo-” anakin's words died on his lips, hi eyes now focused on y/n and one of his teammates, y/n’s head was thrown back, a genuine laugh falling from her lips.

Anakin's thoughts trailed to y/n, the way her lips felt, how her hair always fell into her face when she was concentrating on something, the way her eyes would light up as a song she loved came on, her laugh was literally the most beautiful in the world, how fucking funny she was.

Padme's eyes followed to where Anakin was looking, a knowing smirk forming on her face. “Anakin” she said softly, breaking Anakin out of his trance. “Shit sorry, as i was saying” padme held her hand up stopping him, “i know what you were saying ani, but i truly think you only think you still love me cause.. Your scared of change, i see the way you look at y/n”

Anakin shook his head “y/n..no!” Padme sighed “anakin skywalker, do not be stupid we both know you love her” padme snapped gently, anakin was about to shake his head, but the sound of y/ns laugh drifted over.. He looked back over at her, how long had it been since he made them laugh like that?

Too long.

Anakin frowned as he watched y/n bat her eyelashes and grip Tom's bicep, anakin wasn't fully sure what he was feeling, but he knew he didn't like it one bit. “Go get her before it's too late” Padme whispered to Anakin, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Anakin looked at Padme one last time, before taking long strides over to y/n.

Anakin scanned y/ns outfit- she was fucking breath takeing. He hated that some other guy was the one y/n was flirting with. By the time Anakin had reached her he was practically drooling, how could he ever think he was in love with someone else.

y/n spotted him and glared, it stung a little, but anakin shook it off. As Anakin past y/n he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the stairs , then up them and into a random room, ignoring her protests.

“Shit anakin, let me go” y/n seethed trying to escape his grip, he wouldn't budge. She sighed, yelling back to Tom that she would be back, following Anakin into one of the rooms. Anakin locked the door behind them, “what the fuck anakin!” y/n yelled pulling her arm from his grip angrily.

y/n tried to side step him and leave, but anakin stood tall in front of the door. “I really need to talk to you,” Anakin pleaded. “No! You're such a dick- I can't believe you!” y/n started to tear up in both frustration and sadness. y/n couldn't believe the nerve of anakin.

“Fuck i know, just please, please let me talk” anakins voice was slightly raised, begging with y/n to let him talk. “Fuck you” she tried to push past him again, but he stoped her, gripping her shoulders. “No! y/n… im in love with you” he looked deep into her eyes trying to portray all of his feelings for her with just a look.

y/n stopped thrashing, tears forming in her eyes. “This is cruel anakin” she whimpered. Anakin sighed, wiping the tears falling from her eyes, resting his hands on her cheeks before he talked. “I'm sorry I ended things..i didn't realize how i felt, i still don't fully understand, i kind of just realized.. But i do understand that i'm in love with you, and that seeing you with tom killed me, i can't stand it” anakin whispered, he was done yelling..

y/n let out a sob.”how am i supposed to believe you anakin! You imagined Padme in my place- that's not something you do to the person you're in love with” y/n hit his chest. Anakin grabbed her wrist softly before she could hit him again, taking his free hand and pinching her chin softly making her look him in the eyes.

“I lied, I never pictured Padme in your place, I was just so sure I was still in love with her so I was scared! But I'm not in love with her, I'm in love with you. Anakin didn't break eye contact with y/n for a second. “Fuck your so beautiful” anakin whispered.

y/n blushed “you're really in love with me?” she asked softly, a glimmer of hope in her shaky voice. y/n was finally starting to calm down. Anakin leaned down, faces now inches apart. “I'm so in love with you it hurts” he said before finally connecting their lips in a soft passionate kiss.

Anakin slowly pulled y/n to the bed in the corner of the room. He pulled away from the kiss looking into her eyes tenderly. “We don't have to do anything,” he whispered. y/n opened her eyes, “i want to” she said back, pulling him in and reconnecting their lips.

Anakin smiled into the kiss, slowly sitting down pulling y/n with him. y/n landed on his lap, their lips only leaving each other for a brief moment. y/n pulled at anakin's shirt, hinting that she wanted it off.

Anakin broke the kiss, keeping eye contact as he pulled his shirt off, y/n grinded down on Anakin's growing erection. They both moan quietly. Anakin gripped the end of y/ns shirt looking into her eyes, silently asking permission.

y/n nodded, making ani pull her shirt off, throwing it somewhere behind him on the floor, anakin admired y/n's red laced bra before quickly reaching behind her and taking it off. Her red bra followed y/ns shirt.

Anakin tightly gripped her hips, guiding her grinding motions. His lips trailed down her neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of dark hickeys. y/n threw her head back, savering the feeling of his fully hardened cock rubbing against her clit.

Anakin lifted her to her knees, she hovered above him while he pulled down his pants and boxers, he kicked them off before pulling y/n back to his lap. y/n went back to grinding, needing friction desperately. She moaned at the freeling of his fully freed cock against her lace panties.

Anakin swiftly changed their position, laying y/n on her back, while he hovered over her. Anakin's fingers working on her belt, before hooking under her skirt and panties, pulling them down in one swift motion. He discarded the clothes somewhere in the room.

“God you are so beautiful” anakin mummerd, taking in y/ns now fully bare body. y/n grabbed Anakin's face pulling him into a soft lingering kiss. Anakin's right hand travel down her body and to her pussy, starting to rub slow circles around her sensitive nub”

A moan leaving y/n's lips forced them to pull away from the kiss, her head falling back on the pillows. Anakin groaned at the feeling of y/ns wetteness, he pushed two fingers into her tight pussy, cock twitching at her tight walls clenching around his fingers.

Anakin worked y/n open with deliberate thrusts of his fingers. y/n moaned gripping anis shoulders to ground her. “Ani, need more” y/n whimpered, leaning up and leaving hickeys wherever she could reach.

Anakin pulled his fingers out, making y/n whine at the empty feeling. Anakin connected their lips once more, before slowly dragging his cock down her pussy and positioning it at her hole. “Are you ready?” he mumbled against her lips, excitement coursing through his veins.

“Just make love to me ani” she moaned against his lips, bucking her hips in a futile way of getting some kind of friction. y/ns eyes rolled back as anakin slowly pushed his cock into her, pausing when he fully in.

“Move” y/n demanded. Anakin slowly pulled out, before pushing back in softly. This was different from all other times the two people had sex, anakin didnt wanna fuck y/n, he wanted to make love to her, slowly and passionately.

Anakin hoped y/n could feel his love, his longing, in the way he was fucking into her. y/ns back arched, anakin leaning in and taking a nipple into his mouth. y/n moaned.

Anakin's hand reached back down to her nub, going back to rubbing soft circles. She was reaching her peak, and fast. “ani..mm…fuck” y/ns hands moved to anis back, digging in and leaving long scratch marks.

y/n felt a familiar coil start to build in their lower stomach. “Ani i-im about to cumm~” she attempted to get out. “Me to” anakin grunted in her ear- biting the lobe.

Anakin's thrusts started to get sloppy, as y/n's eyes rolled back, seeing stars on, clenching Anakin's cock hard. Anakin gave a few last sloppy thrusts before cumming inside.

The two lovers took a moment to catch their breaths. Before Anakin pulled out slowly and carefully, not wanting to hurt y/n.

y/n and anakin snuck out of the poor strangers room. “I'll see you tomorrow after school, love” Anakin said, kissing her before running back over to obi. y/n happily took a second to watch her boyfriend, sighing happily.

y/n turned to honestly uber home, y/n blushed as she made eye contact with ahsoka. “Oh hey soka” y/n said nervously, “ew your fucking my brother” ahsoka fake puked. y/n blushed. “No but seriously, are we going to be sisters? If not ill go talk some sense into that asshole” y/n laughed.

A\n~ can you tell I was writing the smut like 😳🫣 lol!! I promise I’ll get better one day…maybe.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen character #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin smut #sw anakin #obi wan and anakin #anakin and padme #star wars #star wars reader insert

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cowboygenesis · 8 days ago

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14: dry down | kylo ren x reader

part 14 of the "bump it, cool it" series: masterlist. | playlist

pairing: [modern!au] kylo ren x reader chapter warnings: explicit language, smut (cunnilingus, fingering), mild angst word count: 3.8k series summary: when your roommate’s older brother needs a place to crash, you begrudgingly offer up your couch— only to realize he’s the most insufferable, entitled asshole you’ve ever met. the worst part? you can’t seem to stop thinking about him. notes: shorter chapter today, y'all. enjoy me being horrible and pulling the rug again, hehe

Now Playing: Girl - Men I Trust

Morning rolls in like a soft, white dove, swirling into your room with a warm wind smelling of pollen.

Your eyes flutter open to your sheer curtains, flailing through the space like a ghost of last night. Light pours in warm, and you wrap the covers tighter as the soreness between your thighs settles in like a small blessing.

And when you spot him there, arms snaked tightly around your nude waist, you think you might have died and gone to a blashpemous heaven.

Kylo’s body is a furnace behind you, arms heavy around your middle, the coarse hair on his forearms brushing your tender skin. He shifts slightly, his nose burying into the crown of your head with a soft, content hum. You sigh with him, lips curling into a wide smile that you hide into the softness of your pillow.

You feel him shift against you, a soft groan fleeting his lips just beyond the shell of your ear. You know he’s awake before he even utters.

“Morning, sunshine,” comes a groggy, barely audible din, shuddering down your spine. You feel his face nuzzle your neck, nose poking against the base of your skull.

“Ugh,” you reply through a bleary-eyed joy, stretching your legs and letting them smooth against his. “I kind of hate that.”

He hums out the shadow of a chuckle, sighing out with sleep as his arms wrap tighter around your waist. Birdsong fills the room in tandem with his sigh. “Morning, asshole.”

You match his amusement with your own laughter, letting it soak into your pillow as he drums a soft, rhythmless beat against your belly. It doesn’t dawn on you like you thought it would, this intimacy. His touches are gentle and kind, and instead of pulling away, you feel sucked in. Worst of all, you don’t even attempt to resist.

“Much better, weirdly.”

He laughs again, this time loud enough for you to hear. His fingers dig into your skin again, soft but demanding, and you catch the hint immediately. With a tired groan you shift your body, rolling in his arms until you catch sight of a dark mess of locks and plush, sleep or kiss-bitten lips. His eyes are closed, dark eyelashes brushing the speckle of his cheeks when a smile erupts on your face unsolicited.

Your silent admiration is promptly interrupted by the rumble of Kylo’s chest, speaking blasphemy through a crackless mein. “You snore, by the way.”

You grin even though he’s not looking. “Liar.”

“Swear on my life,” his eyebrows lift, cheek smushing into the pillow you’ve apparently been sharing all night. “Full-on chainsaw. I actually woke up in a sweat.”

You chuckle, placing your hands against his pecs. The skin is smooth there, lined with those same freckles that start at his temple. “How?”

“From fear, obviously,” he shrugs through the constraint of sheets, popping one eye open just a smidge. “And that’s not all.”

You lift an inquisitive eyebrow, watching him study your face for a beat through that little crack of his eyelid. You press your chest into his on instinct, suddenly aware of the nudity you don.

“You drool.”

Your jaw hangs with shock at the proclamation, but the man’s gaze is nowhere to be found again. He shoves his face into the crook of your arm, yet you feel the curl of a smile as it presses into your skin.

“Excuse me?” you counter through a faux scowl, pushing at his chest. “That’s impossible.”

“You do. Little puddle, right here on my arm,” he elaborates into your elbow before shifting to face you again. You watch patiently as his eyes crack open, both this time, glazed with sleep yet unmistakenly staring through you. He’s still smiling, nearly grinning now. “I’m honestly traumatized.”

You scoff, eyes rolling in attempt to hide the giddiness rising through your chest. “You’re dramatic.”

He arches an eyebrow like a dare, then moves in one fluid motion, all muscle and menace combined. Before you can squeal out a protest of any kind, he rolls, flipping you onto your back and pinning your wrists to the mattress on either side of your head. His weight hovers just enough not to crush you, but certainly enough to make your breath hitch with the dominance.

“Oh my god—get off me!” you wail, squirming just a bit as breathy, giddy laughter fills the air between you.

Kylo’s hair is a mess, black waves cascading over his cheekbones, revealing that pair of dark eyes that glare down at you in full alert now.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Never!” you spit back, eyes as wide as your smile when you spot how blown-out his pupils are above you.

Kylo clicks his tongue in reply, dipping down just slightly to let a gust of breath graze against your face. “Then I’ll be forced to carry out a punishment.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk, but you can see it now—that feral little glitter of his eyes that promies chaos more often than not.

“Yeah?” he murmurs again, voice dropping thick with menace.

Before you can bite back with something familiarly snarky, he moves.

Kylo lets go of your wrists, only to trail one large hand down your arm, your side, until it hooks beneath your knee and hitches your leg up over his hip. The weight of him shifts with it, pressing you down into the mattress with no way to run. Your breath stalls, simmering.

He dips down, brushing the tip of his nose along your jaw, then lower still to the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. His mouth follows promptly, lips warm and lazy as they press into your skin.

“Oh, I dare,” he says, voice muffled by the softness of your skin.

You shiver, and he hums smugly at your willingness. His kisses drift lower down, teeth grazing any skin he can, and just enough to make you jolt in anticipation.

“Kylo—” you half-laugh, half-gasp, letting your fingers threat through the unruly curtain of his hair.

“What?” he says innocently, even as he sucks a mark into your collarbone to dispute his tone in an instant. “This is just part of what I promised. You did slander my good name.”

“You don’t have a good name,” you mutter, but it comes out far too breathy to even remotely land as an insult. You’re barely trying anymore, it’s out of habit more than anything. Kylo laughs low and throaty, vibrating against your chest.

His lips are flushed when he lifts his head, cheeks tinged with a soft pink that mirrors your own distraught state. His gaze flickers over your chest, marvelling at your softness, but ultimately he focuses on your face. Your eyes.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful,” he says.

You raise a brow, raking one hand through his hair absentmindedly. You already feel drunk off his affection, and as much as it should scare you, the feeling is too large to escape as you face it head on. “That’s what you call mercy?”

He leans in again, this time pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “You don’t want to see what unforgiving looks like.”

You shoot him a half-daring look, tilting your head in slight challenge even as something primal tugs at your gut. It’s been minutes since you’ve awoken, and yet that deeply-rooted fire from last night still sparks down your thighs.

“I might.”

Kylo inhales sharply, something untamed flashing through his half-lidded eyes. Immediately, you know you’ve lit a fuse, and now, it was just a matter of fanning the flame into completion.

“Careful,” he warns lowly, holding your gaze as he lowers to plant a slow kiss against your lips. “It’s still early.”

You hum against his mouth, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, your lips parting in slow invitation. He tastes warm, sleep-sweet, with just the slightest hint of last night. It makes your stomach flutter with anticipation and something else entirely.

Then, with a devil-may-care glint in your eyes, you slide your hand down the plane of his chest. Slow fingers trace every dip and ridge like you’re mapping out a coastline, down hillsides and ravines.

“Early?” you echo, voice dulcet-soft as your palm flattens against his abdomen, just above the waistband of his briefs.

He exhales hard through his nose, muscles going taunt against your palm with a sudden flex. Your free hand rises, cradling the back of his head and dragging him in close. Your fingers thread into the thick mess of his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat.

He kisses you with his whole body, mouth urgent and chest pressed flush to yours, hips twitching forward like he’s chasing your touch without even meaning to. One of his hands slips under your thigh again, squeezing, while the other roams up your side, dragging the sheet with it and letting the material bunch at your waist.

“You’re not getting what you want,” he mutters between kisses, voice gravel-rough and vibrating against you.

You smile, breathlessly tipping your head back as his lips begin their slow descent down your jaw and across your neck. His teeth graze a particularly sensitive spot just below your pulse, and your hips jolt into his involuntarily.

He chuckles against your skin, teeth flashing into a crooked grin before he kisses his way lower, grazing your collarbone again. “Still not sorry?”

You look down with lust-drunk eyes, matching his smile with your own. “Not even a little bit.”

His grip tightens around your thigh, holding eye-contact as he slides his mouth up the hill of your breast.

“Good.”

He latches on, tongue swirling against the perked peak of your nipple and making you release a deep, suffocated moan into the air between you, smelling of sex and spring. His hand drops from your thigh, urging up your waist and settling atop your other, lonesome breast. He palms the flesh, squeezing and pinching while his teeth graze your areola.

“Ah, shit—” you hiss, bunching your fists into the pillow. Kylo responds promptly, nearly impatiently, releasing the mound with a soft ‘pop’ before beginning his assault on your sternum. The saliva-slick spot cools rapidly in the air as he traces down your midsection, holding his grasp tight while he descends further down your belly. Your head tilts back and you close your eyes, letting his peppering kisses lull you into oblivion.

“Sleepy?” he rumbles against your hipbone, making you groan at your own stupidity. You’ve allowed yourself to succumb to Kylo’s antics, and once again he’d be the one calling the shots while all you could do was squirm and call him names.

On second thought, that didn’t sound so bad.

“Thought this was supposed to be a punishment,” you manage to tease, voice grasping air as he kisses the dip toward your thigh.

“It is,” he growls. “And I’m taking my damn time with it.”

Sunlight streams through the curtains, painting golden stripes over the tangled sheets and limbs as he inches toward your folds. His breath is hot over your clit, a soft, concentrated stream of air making you flinch at the surprising sensitivity that jolts up your spine.

“What are you—”

His mouth sinks against your pussy, warm and hungry. You lift your arm over your face, biting down on your forearm to stifle the sudden outburst of moans that leave you unsolicited.

It’s a repeat of last night in terms of pleasure, yet his pace is anything but. There’s languidity in place of fervor, passion in place of desire—his hands wrapping tightly around your thighs, holding you in place as he licks a slow, wide strip up your slit. The feeling is electric, and makes you whimper softly.

“Oh,” you mewl, arching your back slightly as he catches your clit. His movement is stable and consistent, alternating smoothly between soft licks, then suckling again. “Oh, Ben.”

He squeezes your legs tighter at that, but the ministrations never pick up pace. He lies between your thighs, worshipping your pussy so softly and gracefully, giving you everything just to hear you call his name into the walls of your home.

You’re relaxed and at complete ease. For a second, as he settles into an even rhythm, you think you might fall back asleep.

But then you feel his arm leave your right left thigh. Before you can check understand, something slender smooths down your entrance, and your eyes widen at the newfound sensation. You look down at your dark-haired lover, his half-lidded gaze stuck hard to yours as he prods not one, but two fingers against your pussy.

He searches your face for permission and you nod vehemently, lip caught between your teeth.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh as he slides in with ease, digits squelching with slick upon entry. A soft, trickling wave of pleasure washes over you like a precursor, making you sink into the mattress with a dazed sigh.

“Feel good?” Kylo questions between the gentle flicks of his tongue, letting his digits curl inside you almost instantly and when you choke out a strained moan in reply, he begins to move. You feel a pressure against the soft ridge of your canal, cascading through your belly and thighs in a wave of deep, pulsating ecstasy as he continues his assault on your clit.

It’s good. It’s painfully, unbearably wonderful, and you’re sure he knows it. It feels like hours when it must’ve been just minutes, yet his slow, slow affections leave you melted into a dopamine-stuffed puddle, body taut with an impending orgasm that never really peaks, keeping you at the delicious precipice until you’re left begging.

“Kylo,” you trail languidly, less like a warning and more like a quiet plea. You look down, the sight of his dark eyelashes as he stays latched onto you making you groan out pathetically. “Kylo, I can’t—”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, his half-lidded eyes watching your glowing, sweat-slick face with complete, soft amusement.

“Mhm,” he hums in acknowledgment, the vibration filling your belly with another wave of pulsating pleasure. His fingers keep working, too, pressing against your sensitive spot without missing a single beat even as your hips begin bucking into it.

“Hey,” you mewl again, this time firmly enough to catch his attention. His tongue slows just a bit, licking up your slick folds with a final stripe. You shudder, locking a palm around the arm holding your thigh down. “Come here.”

When you thought he’d acquiesce, you see him hesitate. Something glitters in his eyes, and his lips leave your pussy without as much as a ceremony, the two digits stirring within you coming to a sudden stop. He watches you for a beat, then two, and when you finally moan out in protest of his passiveness, it’s tight and pathetic.

“Ben, please.”

His body rises. Within seconds, he’s got you pressed against the bed again, the weight of his body balanced on one elbow while his other palm holds still against your pussy. Something burns in his eyes, and this time, it stays long enough for your heart to stutter.

Your mouth parts slightly, his hot breath mingling with yours as you exchange wordless, meaningful stares. “I—”

His lips crash against yours before you get to finish, making you whimper. He tastes sweet and lactic, his tongue prodding against yours before you can think anything at all, your breasts pressing into his strong chest.

And then his digits move again, pushing deeper and hitting an angle you never thought possible.

It’s devastating, and you make it known with a guttural groan against his lips. Yet that only urges him to hum, the swirling within you continuing in small, concentrated presses that knock the breath from your lungs. Your hands snake up his back, around his neck, holding him tight and close as if the heat of his body alone was enough to make the rubber band within you snap into bits.

“Oh, Ben,” you sigh against his lips, letting him take the lead on your animalistic, saliva-slick kiss when you feel your resolve crumbling with the pulsating pleasure of his palm on your clit. “Ben, baby, I—”

You feel him drop your kiss with a sharp inhale, his fingers picking up pace just as your eyes dart open.

He’s looking at you through a thick band of lashes, lips plush and wet with your slick, eyes darting across your face with something like madness. You realise you could have no other name for the wild, delirious splay of his pupils, the arm holding his balance snaking under your back to press you even closer together.

It’s the proximity of his body that breaks you.

“Fuck,” you whine, your hands sliding to either side of his face. You grasp him tightly, feverishly, holding him close as you feel yourself approaching the precipice, once and for all. “Fuck, fuck—Kylo, Ben, I’m cumming, I’m—”

You see his throat bob tightly, lips pressed into a line as his gaze penetrates your very soul. You hear him mutter something under his breath, something insignificant, probably, but the gust of his breath on your cheek combined with the devilish speed of his digits against your sweet spot makes the bundle in your belly uncoil in a wild, uninhibited burst.

You squeeze your eyes shut and cum hard, his forehead pressed to yours as a stray tear rolls down your climax-heated cheek. The pleasure flows through your muscles, your heart, brain, and when you breathe out a cry, Kylo catches it with a hot kiss that sears your soul.

He lets you ride your high out on his fingers, pressing ever so gently as your breath heaves with his. He withdraws one finger when your eyes open, then another.

The world fitlers back in slowly with distant birdsong and the soft creak of the mattress beneath you as Kylo shifts his weight. His fingers, slick with your unraveling, trail idly along your thigh before he wipes them on the sheet absentmindedly. Something about that gesture stirs your gut.

You’re still catching your breath, lips parted and eyes hazy when he speaks again.

“You alright?” he asks, voice rasped and thick with sleep, or something else. You think it might be the latter with how red his cheeks burn.

“Better,” you hum, nodding lazily, still stuck somewhere between Earth and Cloud 9. A faint smile tugs at your lips, curling on one side. “You’re kind of annoyingly good at that.”

Kylo huffs a low and pleased laugh, yet no smile lines his features. There’s something else there, but it flickers in and out, running out of reach before you can even think to catch it.

“Yeah, well. You’re a really good motivator.”

You both laugh softly, the air warm and sweet between you. He doesn’t move yet, hovering close with his eyes fixed on you with a look that borders on something dangerous. But maybe it’s just softness, and you’re not yet used to it.

You think it might be the afterglow, or the fact you’re sharing this quiet morning together, his thumb tracing circles into your hip like he’s done it dozens times before. Or maybe it’s just your anxiety, rising to your throat unfiltered but undeniably delicate, spilling out before you can think to stop.

“I’ve never felt this way with anyone.”

But you don’t even realise the weight of your confession before the air between you stills.

Kylo blinks. The tenderness in his face doesn’t vanish, but it tightens, freezing before your very eyes like cracked glass. And you get stuck with him, eyes searching for something explanatory that never comes.

He shifts off of you first, face flat but ruminating as the sheet slips from his waist. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand to rub over his face, dragging his fingers down like he’s trying to scrub something away. Then he exhales through his nose. It’s sharp and quick, and with a growing knot in your chest, you watch as he stands, half-naked in the early light.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly as he reacher for the clothes he left in a pile on your bedroom chair. You’re propped on one elbow, sheet wrapped around your body like armor, even though you’re sure you’re already bleeding beneath it.

Kylo steps into his trousers, pulling them back on with his broad back to you. “Nothing. Nothing, I just… forgot I had a meeting.”

You blink as a frown settles on your face. “A meeting?”

He nods once, still not looking at you as he throws his shirt on next. Instinctively, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, checking the time.

5:43 AM.

There’s a handful of missed calls from Rey, timestamped between yesterday evening. Your brow knits, realising most of your night was spent in bed, tangled in a world that was now threatening to collapse in front of your very eyes.

“It’s not even six,” you plead, voice gentler than you’d planned.

Kylo rakes a hand through his already-tousled hair, nodding once again. Your gut suddenly bubbles with a familiar rage, listening to his threadbare excuse without a single instinct to face you head-on. You’ve kept it harbored somewhere deep for the night, blinded by his effortless affections. Briefly, you realise you should have known better.

“Okay,” you muster a brittle little smile, and offer it to no one but yourself. He’s still looking away, after all, stood in the doorway, hand on the frame. You can see his fingers tremble even at a distance.

Still, for a second, hope flares stupidly in your chest. You think he might turn around. All it’d take is a second, a word, a smile, absolutely anything to seize the endless spiral of chaos barging through your brain, harmonizing in a helpless song of: what did I do wrong?

And you hope he might feel your desperation, that strong, pleading pull. Because before he leaves, he looks back over his shoulder, his dark eyes piercing you with that same tenderness you saw as he touched your body and soul.

“Lock the door behind me,” he says.

His footsteps echo down the hallway steadily, and then a bit uneven. You stare at the open door as the silence swells around it like heavy bloating, still holding onto that thread of hope, of the possibility that—

The front door shuts with a click.

Your throat closes in tandem, bleary eyes flooding with wetness. The tears slide down your cheeks before you can think to stop them, slipping hot and quiet in one blink. Then comes the rest. You curl into the mattress and palm at the pillow and sheets where he just lied. You think they might hold some vague shape of his arms or face, but they don’t. Not at all.

You muffle your sobs against the corner, every exhale shaking your ribs like a living, breathing creature clawing at your ribs. There’s no dignity or grace in it, just a raw, fresh grief that blooms too fast and stupid to contain.

You fall back asleep in a pool of your own grief, wild-pine clinging to your skin that bruises with the memory of his lips.

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awkward-tension-art · 1 year ago

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Darkness on Umbara Chp.6 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

The Gorge

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DN

Airbase.

That’s the priority. That's why the 501st had retreated away from the capital.

A fucking airbase.

You could see it in the distance from where you were. The tall tower was clearly marked by a bright pillar of light that reached towards the clouds.

As Fives, Krell and Rex inspected the area on a cliffside, you and Kix weaved around the men, treating any injuries you saw. Sadly, painkillers were getting to low levels, so you decided to use them for the truly brutal wounds. For those you had to deem were suffering beyond comprehension.

You regretted using them on yourself.

But, everyone else…well, they were big boys. They just had to handle it. Judging by the uninterested look that Hardcase had while Kix stitched up his shoulder, you were confident that the men weren’t going to complain.

Your gaze swept over the battalion. The dark, tentacle-like trees had fanned out from the jungle, allowing an easier view of the soldiers. You counted the silhouettes, their white and blue armor stark against the ash colored ground.

By the end you were right. A majority of the battalion had been injured in some way. Wounds were expected. But this many…It was getting hard to keep up, and judging by the way Kix swayed slightly when he stood, he was feeling the same thing.

“Alright men, we’re splitting the battalion,” Rex called, getting everyone at attention, “Half of you will remain here. The other half, follow me down to the gorge.”

You sighed and watched them go. Your tired steps were about to go to your medical speeder, but Krell halted you, “Doctor, you will be going with them.” He stepped between you and your goal, which was to resupply.

“Respectfully, sir,” you looked up into his small yellow eyes, “I think it would be better if I remained here and-.”

“My orders are for you to go with the platoons down to the gorge.” the besalisk crossed two of his four arms, surprisingly, he wasn’t yelling at you. Instead, his tone was icy and yet uninterested, “I’ve seen how you are during battle, and your expertise is wasted as a backline medic. You will be with the men on the front.”

You blinked and nodded. Was that a compliment?

“Understood, sir.” you saluted with your uninjured arm and followed the platoon. At this point, arguing with him about your training would only result in a bad outcome.

You found your position next to Kix, who looked very unhappy to see you, “please don’t tell me…”

“He complimented me,” you gave a sarcastic smile, “Said my expertise was wasted by not being on the front.”

Before Kix could respond, Rex began to speak, getting all the attention onto him, “Alright listen up!” His voice held authority with every word, “We’ll assemble the squads into two divisions. We’ll move straight up this gorge to the airbase on the far side.”

The medic beside you snapped, “The casualties are going to be high!”

Tup scoffed, “Is Krell trying to get us killed!?”

“You know, I wasn’t sure that Krell was crazy before.” Jesse snarled, helmet in his hand. He practically glared at Rex as he continued, “But now, I’m positive!”

“We had to retreat from the capital because the general pushed a flawed strategy!” It was Fives’ turn to argue, “Now this?”

Hardcase raised his heavy weapon, “I don’t know! Could be fun.”

“Well, I, for one, agree with the general's plan.” Dogma chimed in, seeming much more confident than anyone else.

“What plan?” You turned to face him, “Blindly rushing into the unknown without a care for the costs isn’t a plan!” Your words might’ve struck Rex, truthfully, you couldn’t look at him to find out.

You had all the faith in him. You just had no faith in Krell or his tactics. But arguing would seem like you were against your lover and not the temporary General.

“We are running out of time and this is the best option!”

Jesse spoke up again, royally pissed, “No recon? No air support? We don’t know what we’re up against!” He waved his helmet in the air in frustration, “They have weapons we’ve never seen before!” To punctuate his point, he tapped his helmet to his head a couple of times.

The 501st captain stepped forward, attempting to reason with everyone, “A few of General Skywalker’s plans seemed reckless too, but they worked.”

His words did little to ease the rising tempers, “Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front not bringing up the rear like General Krell!” Fives stepped towards Rex, riling up everyone else, “A full frontal assault would leave us too exposed!”

The other men rose up in dissatisfied chatter. They were clearly unhappy with the plan.

“We have to look at other options!”

“It's going to be a meat grinder!”

Rex sighed, frustration clear, “Fives.” He commanded the ARC trooper to follow. The two stepped away, out of earshot.

“What supplies do we have?” Kix turned to face you, “This…is going to be difficult.”

Wordlessly you took off your pack and knelt to go through the packs you carried. Luckily the both of you stocked up as well as you could from everything on the medical speeder. But it never hurts to check.

Bandages and bacta were the most needed, and hopefully, you had enough to see this through.

You attempted to get your pack back on by lifting it with your bad arm, only to drop it and hiss in pain.

“Damnit.” you swallowed, feeling the very bone pulse in agony. It’s only been a few hours since you were shot. Your arm was nowhere near healed.

Kix put a hand on your uninjured shoulder to hold you steady, “Take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, adjusting your pack, “The men have survived worse than this. How would it look if I burst into tears every time I get hurt?”

“Nearly getting your arm blasted off isn’t just ‘getting hurt’. If you need a break, the others will understand.” He argued softly.

You shook your head, “And what about you? You’ve been unsteady on your feet from exhaustion for hours and yet you still run around helping those who are wounded.”

“Only because you’ve been taking a majority of them.” Kix responded, though he didn’t argue with your point.

“Are you two done?” Dogma snapped from his position, “We’re about to start moving.”

“Hey, Dogma, have you considered shutting the fuck up?” An ARF trooper, Jumper, leaned forward on his AT-RT to silence the ground soldier, “How about you don’t pick a fight with the two people keeping all of us alive.”

“Hey-!”

“Everyone, enough.” Jesse finally stepped in to get everyone quiet, “Now is not the time or the place.” A mere minute later instructions were given.

You’d go with Rex and his half of the platoon. Kix would go with Fives and Hardcase and their half.

Splitting up…wonderful idea. There’s no way that could ever go wrong.

You hung back, keeping your position behind a majority of the men. Noct and Nax, however, were walking on either side of you. As if they were intending to guard you from threats. Your nod to them was in appreciation as both platoons marched forward slowly and carefully.

Three of those flying beasts that attacked on the main road flew overhead. They didn’t make a dive or move towards anyone on the ground. Instead, you’d think they were fleeing something.

A rapidly approaching rumble cut off your thoughts. The ground was shaking, and it was only getting worse. Nax grabbed your wrist to keep you steady as the vibrations got stronger and louder. Even the AT-RT’s were unstable from the sheer power of the sway.

You raised your comm and began to speak, “Kix, what is going-.”

In the distance, you heard the commotion. Shouting. Booms. It sounded like something was…howling?

Everything around you was shaking violently, and Kix finally responded, “We’re under attack!”

Without wait, Rex diverted off the original path to aid his brothers. You all ran as quickly as you could despite the dark, dense plant life that hindered your movements. Once you made it over the ridge, you paused, taking in the battle.

Chaos. Chaos and mayhem. At the center of it all, was a tank in the shape of a centipede, marked with blue lights. It roared before slamming down, killing all soldiers under its massive body.

“Get those rocket launchers down there! Move it troopers!” Rex commanded, pistols in hand and immediately running to aid the soldiers.

The blaster guns that ran down the centipede tanks back were firing in all directions, making it difficult to maneuver or navigate. Still, you managed to get close enough while remaining behind the cover of a massive tree and its roots.

One of the green shots hit Jumper’s AT-RT, killing him in a burst of neon flames.

Another name to your list.

“Watch out!” The ARF trooper next to you called as another tank shot up from the ground. He was hit almost instantly, knocking down from his vehicle. immediately your hands were on him and dragging him behind cover.

“I got you, Dia.” you reassured, pulling off his helmet.

Pupils uneven. Head injury. Concussion. Watch for seizures or signs of stroke. Traumatic brain injuries were difficult to deal with in such a chaotic environment, but you did what you could with the supplies you have.

One of the tanks swung its massive head, slamming into one of the troopers that had a much needed rocket launcher. He hit the ground, but curled his body to protect the precious weapon. Once the Umbaran tank turned to continue its destruction, Kix leapt out from the black and red foliage. Thank whatever gods decided to keep him alive!

He grabbed the trooper just as Hardcase got the rocket launcher. You rushed out to join him, taking hold of one of the troopers shoulders, “Follow me!” You shouted, leading the medic to your position of cover hidden in the dense trees. When you returned, there were already several more injured that were taking refuge.

Behind you, there was another explosion. The now headless tank roared before it melted into a screech. Its massive silver and blue body twisted and spasmed as every section burst into flames and destruction. You spotted Fives and Hardcase sprinting to avoid getting hit by its thrashing legs.

Rex called out, tone commanding yet anxious, “Everyone regroup, now! Take cover!”

The platoons scattered, fleeing into the dark and foggy forest. Luckily the thick trunks and roots of the red, glowing trees were condensed enough the tanks couldn’t push through.

“Move it! Move it!”

“Let's go!”

“Go! Go! Go!”

You swallowed and looked up at Rex. He was breathing heavily, but still standing. However, you didn’t miss the blood on his wrist.

You reached into a small pack on your thigh and took out clean bandages as you approached. He would always opt for bandages and not bacta. At every battle, if he got hurt, he’d reject the medicine, saying ‘save it for the next soldier you treat.’ So you’ve learned to just accept his selflessness and use standard first-aid supplies if the wounds weren’t so bad.

“We’re safe for the moment, but they’ll be coming around any second,” He continued to lead the men, not stopping even when you grabbed his wrist and began to bandage it up, “Bring up the launchers, spread detonators along that corridor. Trap them in the bottleneck.” The captain nodded in appreciation once you finished your work. He continued, “We’re going to blow those things sky high.”

Fives rushed past you to a soldier, Hana, who carried explosives in a large pack. He grabbed several of the bombs before running with the other to the narrow part of the gorge. Several others followed the ARC trooper.

You remained with the injured, just like Kix. Your focus was on the trooper, Hek, in your arms working to stem the bleeding on his chest. However, no matter what you tried, he slipped away under your hands.

Hek. One more death to blame on Krell.

Your priority shifted to Silk, who had sat down and waited patiently with a bleeding, smoldering neck and shoulder wound. Either he was the most patient man in existence, or mentally gone. It didn’t matter though, because you began to patch him up, using whatever you could to save him.

After a few moments, the ground shook violently again, causing you to hold him close to your chest to protect. From the direction of where the men placed bombs, you heard the booms and crackles of their explosives detonating. The tanks they destroyed howled and wailed as it sounded like they crashed into one another, ripping each other apart.

Soldiers had run back to your position to take cover from the resulting explosions. Hardcase dove to your right, getting behind the massive root protecting everyone from the fire. Rex, who was thrown from the force of the bombs, landed on his front right next to you and Silk. Fives and Jesse stumbled, also hitting the dirt after getting shoved by the burst of heat and flames.

It was a few seconds later when your ears were blessed with silence. Seemed everyone was waiting for…something. Another attack? Or just appreciating the brief moment of calm.

The captain got onto one knee, turned his head to you, and his shoulders slumped slightly with relief, “Good job.” he stood, addressing his men, “Be ready to move out in five.”

Five minutes to rest.

Hardly enough time for you and Kix to tend to all those that were sporting injuries, but you could at least handle the more serious cases. And in those five minutes, despite your best efforts….

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo.

You added a few more names to the list of the dead.

#reader insert #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #star wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #the clone wars #star wars tcw #umbara arc #pong krell #arc trooper fives #clone trooper kix #clone trooper jesse #tcw x reader #tcw x you #sw tcw

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wanderinginksplot-writes · 3 months ago

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Gar Cyare Chapter Twenty-One

The trial of Akridia Brid is mercifully short... for you and Alpha, at least.

Alpha-17 x fem!reader (no reader description, no use of 'Y/N')

Word Count: 4,800

Warnings: Fake courtroom drama stuff, accusations, victim blaming (kinda), vague threats, misunderstandings, suggestive conversations

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

Burk’yc Urcir (A Dangerous Meeting)

Your shirt itched terribly.

The seat at the front of the court was uncomfortable - even more so because you were currently in the middle of being cross-examined - but all that kept running through your mind was how itchy the shirt was. Not for the first time, you envied Alpha his armor. It probably wasn't comfortable, but at least it was protective. You could use a little protection just then.

“Administrator,” Brid’s lawyer reprimanded sharply. “I asked you a question.”

She had, actually. In fairness to you, though, you had already answered the same question multiple times.

“No, I didn't think it was overly strange that Brid didn't contact me about the additional help that was coming to Kamino,” you repeated, striving for patience. “Our previous communication had been strained, and I believed that she was trying to avoid contacting me directly.”

The lawyer, Myndel Sall, didn’t seem to appreciate your attempts to be gracious about the repeated questions. “So rather than do the slightest bit of investigation on your own behalf, you chose to believe that Ms. Brid had neglected her job duties in favor of relegating tasks to her own supervisor?”

You were so tired of this line of questioning, but a glance around the courtroom treated you to the sight of a silently fuming Alpha. Abruptly, you were struggling to keep from grinning. You turned back toward Sall, who was still watching you expectantly.

With a shrug, you admitted, “Yes.”

A stifled laugh went around the courtroom. Brid was not well-liked, and much of the trial had taken place before you were brought in.

Sall’s lips parted in a sneer and you braced for whatever rude question she would pose next, but she was interrupted by Dedric Trosteld, the lawer speaking on behalf of the Senate. “Objection, your honor and all members of the court. The administrator is not on trial here. I move to strike this line of questioning from the record as irrelevant.”

Sall interrupted before the judge could speak. “I would posit that the administrator’s choices are relevant, as we are here to assign blame for the attack on Kamino.”

“Counselor, we are here to discover whether or not your client knowingly and maliciously allowed outside forces onto Kamino,” the judge stiffly reminded Sall. “The administrator is not on trial.”

“On the contrary,” Sall insisted, “the fact that the administrator didn’t question the absence of her direct supervisor is a large part of the reason that Kamino was unprepared for an attack-”

“Counselor Sall,” the judge said, voice severe. “I will not correct your conduct again. Counselor Trosteld, your objections are sustained. This line of questioning will cease immediately. Counselor Sall, do you have any further relevant questions for the administrator?”

“No, Your Honor,” Sall admitted begrudgingly.

“Very well.” The judge looked to Trosteld. “Your witness, counselor.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Trosteld tucked his hands behind his back and paced steadily in front of you. “Administrator, how well do you know your supervisor, Akridia Brid?”

You considered that for a moment. “Not well. We never worked together prior to my assignment on Kamino. The contact we had was short due to the unreliability of long-distance transmissions and limited strictly to work-related matters.”

“I see,” Trosteld said with a nod. “And did you notice anything in Ms. Brid’s behavior or work that would suggest that she was disloyal to the Republic?”

“No,” you answered honestly. “As I said, I didn’t work with her closely enough to pick up on anything about the quality of her work.”

“And how about her behavior?”

Hm. That was more difficult. “Nothing stands out too strongly, but she did start to get more impatient as I continued writing the report. She accused me of wasting time on Kamino instead of working.”

Trosteld nodded. “In your written testimonies, both you and Captain Alpha-17 claimed that Ms. Brid tried to eject you from Kamino. Can you describe that incident to me?”

“Of course,” you agreed, taking a deep breath to remind yourself that impartiality was the most important thing. “Supervisor Brid was unhappy that I missed a deadline for my report on the Kaminoan cloning process. She asked me to resign. I believed she meant to remove me from the project and I initially accepted, but she attempted to have me resign from the Senate workforce altogether. I refused.”

“On what grounds?” Trosteld asked.

“My hours were far beyond what the Republic considers acceptable overtime,” you explained. “I offered to send my logged time to a Republic investigator as proof that the original deadlines were impossible, but Supervisor Brid didn’t seem to think that was necessary. She also opted not to request that I be removed from Kamino by the Senatorial Administration Office.”

“Why?”

You blinked. “I… I can’t begin to guess why Brid didn’t follow up on replacing me.”

“Forgive me,” Trosteld requested with a small smile. “I meant: why did you fight to stay on Kamino?”

“I believed that I could make a difference through my work on Kamino,” you told him, nonplussed. “How could I leave?”

Another glance around the courtroom showed smiles and approving nods from onlookers and the jury. Alpha gave you a warm look, smiling with his eyes alone, but you were distracted by a man at the back of the courtroom. He was standing beside the large doors, as if he had only stepped inside for a moment. He seemed to be wearing… armor under his long cloak. The single line of armor that was visible through the parted front of the cloak glinted golden in the light of the courtroom.

When the man saw that he had caught your eye, he offered a shallow tip of his head. The motion looked somehow familiar, but you couldn’t begin to place it.

“Esteemed members of the court, I have no further questions for this witness,” Trosteld announced, sweeping away from the raised booth where you sat. The judge dismissed you and that was that.

Since you and Alpha had both finished testifying, you were ordered to leave the court. You did so gladly, hurriedly changing into comfortable clothes at the hotel. Alpha lounged on the bed. He hadn’t seemed overly concerned about the trial, but now that it was over, you could see the way the near-invisible tension had melted from him.

“Do you think they’ll get her?” you asked, collapsing onto the bed beside Alpha. Even with the full force of your body hitting the mattress, he was barely jostled.

“Dunno,” he said, shrugging up at the ceiling. “Didn’t seem to have much of a case, did they?”

“Nora warned us about that, remember?” you reminded him. “She said that we would only see part of the case. Brid’s law team brought us there to prove that there were other people who wanted to destroy Kamino, but I’m sure the legal teams have other arguments.”

“I hope so.” Alpha turned slightly onto his side so he could watch you. “I want her in prison, but it should at least be a fair fight.”

You stared silently at the ceiling, considering that for a moment.

Brid was, in Alpha’s words, a di’kut. She had always been a di’kut, and trying to push blame for the attack on Kamino onto you? Well, if you had believed that you couldn’t think less of her, you had been mistaken.

But something about the situation didn’t feel right. You had gained a fine sense of when someone was taking advantage of a victim for their own ends, and that sense was tingling. Brid would be a terribly convenient scapegoat, and she hadn’t made many friends during her time at the Senate. With no one to side with her, Brid was vulnerable. And if she hadn’t orchestrated the attack on Kamino, the Republic wasn’t searching for the real perpetrator.

Before you could even start to articulate that, Alpha’s stomach gave a loud grumble. You grinned over at him. “Hungry?”

“Always,” Alpha agreed, rolling off the side of the bed and standing in the same motion. You would have been more impressed, but he had explained that it was basically the only way to stand up while wearing full armor.

“Come on,” you invited, standing in a less flashy way. “A lot has changed since the last time I was on Coruscant, but I’m sure I can track down something tasty, cheap, and filling for dinner.”

Alpha barked out a laugh. “How could I say no to an invitation like that?”

Skeptical as he was, you had managed to do exactly what you had promised. The street cart was nearly abandoned and it admittedly looked less than sanitary, but you had spent your time on Coruscant learning which carts were trustworthy and which were better to avoid. Somehow, this one met all your standards and you convinced Alpha to try it.

The cart boasted an assortment of skewers, each one with a variety of vegetables grilled to perfection. The vendor, a human female from Castilon, had briefly lamented to you that Coruscant’s seafood selection was so poor.

“There’s nothing like rokkna meat roasting over a wood fire,” she claimed, eyes bright with fervor. “But Coruscant is so far from a good ocean…”

You nodded sympathetically. With so many people in such a confined space, meat of any kind was uncommon on Coruscant, but seafood was especially rare. The nearest ocean planet was still too far for easy access, and most of the fishers on those planets charged a premium to the wealthy of Coruscant. Accordingly, seafood was a rare indulgence for the rich. The Coruscanti poor had no chance of affording it.

“Have you tried-?” you started, but Alpha’s fingers brushed your elbow before you could finish the thought.

“Neverd’ika,” he said lowly. “We need to go.”

You glanced around, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Still, you trusted Alpha, so you nodded, offering your thanks to the vendor as you started back in the vague direction of the hotel.

“What’s going on?” You had waited until you and Alpha cleared the square where you’d started, but you couldn’t stand the uncertainty any longer.

Alpha took a moment to answer, scanning your surroundings with a grim set to his mouth. “Thought I saw someone I know.”

“One of Obrim’s men?” you asked. When Alpha gave you a strange look, you shrugged. “That’s who was following Maze and I yesterday. Apparently, I’m a flight risk.”

Despite the tension in his posture, Alpha smirked. “That so, little one? I’m glad you warned me now. I’d hate to wake up one day and find that you’d stolen a transport and disappeared.”

You smiled back. “Could happen, but I hope that you wouldn’t make me disappear alone.”

“Never.” Alpha’s expression sobered as he looked around again. “Let’s continue this conversation when we get back to the hotel.”

For a large man, Alpha could move when he wanted to. He did the hard part of clearing a way through the crowd, even with his head ducked to help him blend in. All you had to do was stick close to his heels and get through the crowd before the halves re-merged behind him.

There was a noticeable decrease in the number of people as you approached the hotel. The area was mostly commercial zoning, so there were few housing complexes in the area. And apparently, not many tourists wanted to stay in the legal district.

When you and Alpha were two streets away from the hotel, a figure pushed steadily away from a wall. You could see it in silhouette - tall and lanky, but bulky in a way that seemed both familiar and utterly alien.

“Alpha,” you breathed, trying to keep the warning as low as possible.

“I know, neverd’ika,” he soothed, fingertips brushing over your forearm. “Keep an eye on ‘em - I have one back here, too.”

You eyed the figure nervously. “Do we stop?”

“Do anything but stop,” Alpha told you sternly. “Get to the hotel room and lock the door, even if I’m not with you. Don’t stop or wait for me. I’ll meet you there.”

“Alpha…”

“No time,” he hissed.

He was right. By that point, you were close enough to the figure ahead of you to see that it was wearing dark armor and a visor.

You did your best to skirt around the figure, clutching Alpha’s arm hard enough that your nails bit into the skin beneath his body glove. He slowed behind you just as the person reached out to grab your wrist in an iron grip.

“We need a word.” The modulated voice came from the helmeted face, sounding vaguely humanoid, but you didn’t recognize the tone. The accent was precise, almost polished, but dripping with menace and threats left unspoken.

It was hard to pinpoint when the change happened, but your mind was abruptly taken over by all of the training you had done with Trem. You let the figure keep a grip on your wrist, barrelling into their chest hard enough to knock them off-balance. One of your legs was planted slightly behind one of theirs, and when they stumbled backward, they tripped on your calf and fell heavily to the ground.

Initially, the figure didn’t let go of you, but working around clone troopers had left you with a keen understanding of armor and its weak points. With their arm extended upward to keep their hold on your wrist, their unarmored armpit was exposed. You planted the toe of your shoe against that unprotected joint and their grip faltered long enough for you to pull free.

“Su cuy’gar, Alpha,” someone greeted from behind you.

You were beyond the point of caring who these people were, tugging at Alpha’s arm so insistently that his shoulder joint probably hurt just as badly as that of the figure on the ground. Alpha, however, stopped short at the friendly voice.

Alpha’s solid body stopping halted you as well, if only because you had such a strong grip on his elbow. You collided heavily against Alpha’s chest and he caught you almost absent-mindedly, already turning to face the other person.

This one was much shorter. They were also wearing full armor and a helmet, though the gold plates of that armor were partially hidden behind a long cloak. Something tickled at the back of your mind, but the rumbling of Alpha’s voice through his chest distracted you before you could seize it.

“Skirata,” he greeted flatly in return.

You stared from the figure to Alpha and back again. “Skirata?”

“Alpha. Administrator.” The helmet inclined slightly, as if Skirata was eyeing the figure on the ground. “Alpha, my boy, you aren’t going to let an old man lie helplessly on the sidewalk, are you?”

A pang of guilt burned through the pit of your stomach. An old man? You had knocked down an old man? Armor or no, you were suddenly terrified that he had been hurt. Reflexively, you started forward, but Alpha’s hand on your shoulder stopped you from getting too close.

Instead, he glanced down at the man lying on the ground in his black armor and gave a loud snort. “Weren’t expecting that, were you, Vau? Suspect some of your boys would pay good credits to see you get taken down by a civvie.”

“I never did like you, Seventeen,” the dark-armored figure spat out, pushing himself up to his feet.

Alpha watched him, unimpressed. “The feeling is mutual.”

Skirata cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Sorry to interrupt your evening, son, but I heard the two of you were going to be on Triple Zero and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet your charming friend.”

“I’m not your son, Skirata,” Alpha dismissed. “And my friend is no business of yours. Let us pass.”

“Oh, but she is,” Skirata insisted, reaching up to remove his helmet. His freshly revealed face wasn’t as old as you had expected from his statement about Vau, but you weren’t truly surprised. Skirata carried himself with an aura of capable menace that warned he was still well able to fight. The features were schooled into an expression of kindly consideration, but you weren’t entirely fooled. There was a glint in his eyes, one of both keen interest and deadly focus.

“Kal Skirata,” he said, by way of an introduction. You had already braced yourself for his opening salvo when he added, “My boys tell me that you read all of of Ko Sai’s notes on genetic manipulation.”

The mood turned to something dark and frozen. You could feel the way Alpha was getting ready to tear into the older Mandalorian man, but you couldn’t let him. This was nothing more than a bluff. An incredibly high-stakes bluff, but nothing more than that.

With your most professional smile, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Skirata, but I think you were misinformed. I never read the notes, just saw that they existed. I was able to see the note headings briefly using my Kaminoan administrative password, but I never accessed any of the actual files.”

“That so?” he asked, sounding unsurprised by your denial.

“Sadly,” you agreed. “I tried to warn your boys not to try slicing into the files, but I couldn’t convince them to listen before they set off the self-destruct feature.”

“They’ve always been hasty,” Skirata agreed with despairing smile. “Comes with the accelerated aging, is my guess. They know how little time they have, so they’re more likely to jump into things with both feet. Can’t really blame them, can we?”

The casual tone of Skirata’s voice was belied by the staggering intensity in his gaze. He was testing you, probing to see whether you knew more than you were letting on. Unfortunately for everyone, you didn’t. You had technically seen Ko Sai’s notes, but for all that you had understood, you may as well have been reading Huttese.

So you deflected, not with another lie, but with a truth so deep and close to your heart that there was nothing more honest you could hope to give this stranger.

“I can’t blame them at all,” you agreed, emotion tightening your throat until your voice sounded almost painful. “The only ones I do blame are the Kaminoans. It’s a cruel and heartless thing, to give life but make sure it’s short as well as being painful and frightening. If I ever found a way to reverse the accelerated aging, I would risk everything I have to get it out of Kamino and to the right people. That’s the reason I agreed to help your sons.”

Alpha’s hand skimmed over your forearm, settling just below your elbow with a light squeeze. You took a shaking breath, relaxing your muscles and expression with effort. There was a fine line between fervor that would convince someone like Skirata, and giving him ammunition to have you locked away by the Republic if you made a move he disliked. You had likely crossed back and forth over that line several times so far, but you couldn’t pretend it wasn’t the truth.

“I feel the same way,” Skirata said when you had collected yourself. “I wish more people did, but more people see the clones as expendable than as living beings.”

“They’ll learn someday,” you insisted. “They’ll have to. This war won’t last forever.”

Skirata’s expression grew sad. “We’ll see.”

Alpha cleared his throat. “We won’t see anything if someone reports us talking and the Republic decides to pay closer attention to what we’re doing on Kamino. We should go.”

“Pragmatic as ever,” Vau admitted, scanning the area around you all. “And a good point. Let’s wrap this up, Skirata.”

“Alpha has always been able to cut through to the point,” Skirata told you, leaning in as if Alpha wouldn’t be able to hear him from a yard away. “I’m as proud of him as I am any of my boys.”

Alpha rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

“It was nice to meet you,” Skirata said, offering his hand in a firm shake. “Always like to get the measure of the people my boys work with, especially when they say someone is trustworthy.”

You tilted your head at that, but returned his handshake. If the Nulls found you trustworthy, you would think it was a shock, but you decided against saying it. Instead, you stared into Skirata’s face, attempting to get a sense of him in the same way he was trying with you.

He wasn’t as kindly and paternal as he pretended to be. You had realized that almost immediately. And now that you had spoken with him, Skirata’s air of harmlessness was laughable. He made you wary. He was a good man who loved his sons as fiercely as any parent you had ever met, and he was willing to do anything to keep them safe. If you were ever in the way of him doing so, you were as good as dead.

“Nice to meet you, too,” you agreed. “Always nice to see the ways children take after a parent.”

The corners of Skirata’s lips curled up in an appreciative smile. He seemed like a man who liked to speak plainly when possible, but he also seemed the type to enjoy a good verbal spar. “One last piece of advice? It’s a little harder to make changes from outside the system, but not impossible. And it takes care of any privacy agreements you may have signed. Working in the private sector means that you can rally the public to your side when you need to.”

“How-?”

You had stopped yourself before fully admitting that you had gotten a job offer from Nora, but Skirata still gave you a knowing smile. “It pays to have friends in strange places.”

“I’m sure she appreciates career advice from a mercenary,” Alpha interrupted, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “If you have any other wisdom to pass along, comm us.”

No one got in the way as you and Alpha left, but you didn’t exactly give them the chance. Your quick steps didn’t stop until you reached the safety of your hotel room, and you locked the door the moment you and Alpha were inside.

“How much of that was a threat?” you asked in the artificial silence of the room.

“Plenty,” Alpha said shortly, checking the locks on everything from the windows to the hatches covering the climate control vents. You watched in silence, antsy from the heavy tension of the room.

Sure enough, Alpha turned expectantly to you when he had finished. “Something you need to tell me?”

You took a breath to steel yourself. “After you left the restaurant last night, Nora told me about a group that might be interested in hiring me.”

“Are you going to finish the report first, or leave immediately?” he asked and you flinched at the blank expression he wore. Even his tone was flat, distant. “Are you coming back to Kamino at all, or do you want me to pack up your things and ship them back here for you?”

“No, Alpha,” you pleaded softly. “I’m not leaving. That’s the point. I wanted to talk to you about this myself after I knew a little more-”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

You stared at him, aghast. “I just found out about this last night! And we were a little busy today. But I would have said something tomorrow or the next day. Don’t forget, we have another three days on a transport to get back to Kamino.”

Alpha didn’t join in with your nervous laughter. “I don’t like that Skirata knew before I did. And Czajak - did she purposefully wait until I had left?”

“No…” you said uncomfortably, but you couldn’t let the lie stand. “Well, yes, but not because you weren’t supposed to be part of my decision. She just wanted me to have the chance to turn it down without anyone else weighing in. And I have no idea how Skirata knew about it.”

Alpha’s spine was painfully straight as he turned to check the locks on the window again. It took a long moment before he spoke again. “I would never force you to stay on Kamino. You know that, don’t you?”

The raw vulnerability in the question made your heart ache.

“Of course I know that, Alpha,” you reassured, starting toward him. You stopped when you saw the way he tensed even more at your approach. “Nora was trying to look out for me, but she doesn’t know how our relationship works. I’ve been terrified about finishing the report for months. Now I have a chance to stay on Kamino - to stay with you - if I play my cards right. I want that so badly, but I don’t want to get your hopes up in case they don’t want to keep me.”

“They would be di’kuts if they didn’t keep you,” Alpha said with a scowl.

You smiled despite yourself. “You don’t even know who they are.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. He sighed a moment later. “I’ve been worried about you finishing the report, too.”

You did an inelegant double-take. “You were-? You never said anything.”

Alpha shrugged. “It wouldn’t have helped. You were already worried. You didn’t need me making it worse. Who wants to hire you?”

“Some group called Sentient Rights,” you explained haltingly. “I haven’t heard of them, but Nora said she works with them quite a bit. They’ve read my report and they like that I treat the troopers as… people. They want to use some pull to keep me on Kamino as a way of preventing any violations of your rights.”

“We’re clones,” Alpha reminded harshly. “We don’t have rights.”

“Right now, the Senate hasn’t made any ruling on you except that you can be used as soldiers in the Grand Army of the Republic,” you countered. “Until they make an official decision, you don’t have rights, but you don’t not have rights.”

“That makes no sense,” he grumbled after a long moment of trying to find a gap in your logic.

“The Republic rarely does,” you agreed. Alpha’s lips twisted in a suppressed smile.

“What’s your plan?” he asked instead of remarking on your opinion of the Republic. “Work with them and hope they can keep you on Kamino?”

“I’m hoping to get confirmation that I’ll stay on Kamino before I submit the report,” you admitted. “I want to comm them before we leave Coruscant in case they want to meet in-person. I know the Kaminoans will kick me off-planet as soon as the report is done, and I don’t want to give them a chance to bar me before I get a permanent post.”

“Smart,” Alpha said with a nod. “Just as smart as hiding from Skirata that you read Nala Se’s notes.”

You grimaced, sitting heavily on the bed. Your knees felt a little weak at the reminder. “Hopefully, the misdirection was enough to throw him off. He definitely seemed suspicious.”

“He won’t waste time chasing down a lead like that if he doesn’t believe it’ll pay off,” Alpha reassured, sitting down beside you. “I don’t think you have to worry about him. At least, not in that way.”

“Good,” you said fervently.

There were ways to recapture information that a human or humanoid had seen, even if they couldn’t consciously remember it. But those ways were never pleasant and they were frequently dangerous. No sane being would willingly submit to the process. Unfortunately, it often happened to beings who were less than willing. If nothing else, Skirata seemed like the type who wouldn’t necessarily care about little things like ‘coercion’ or ‘war crimes’.

“Don’t worry, little one,” Alpha said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing as if he could hear your internal worries. “I said I would always keep you safe and I meant it.”

“I know, Alpha,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck and smirking when he shuddered a bit.

“Keep that up and you’re going to be in for a night,” he warned lowly, voice rumbling delightfully next to your ear.

“I know, Alpha,” you repeated, smiling as you pressed another kiss to his neck.

It was impossible to know how full the hotel was, but your neighbors - if you had them - probably weren’t thrilled at your pleased squeal as he flipped you onto the bed.

---

Author's Note - Hey, friends! I'm going to start with a few disclaimers in case anyone is upset.

No, Brid's trial is not going to be a major plot point moving forward. It and the outcome will be mentioned in passing, but only in relation to other changes. This story is already running longer than I meant it to and we have other places to be.

Walon Vau is a certified badass, not a feeble old man who could be knocked down by a civvie. We're chalking it up to him expecting Alpha to cause problems and momentarily shifting his focus away from the administrator, who he expected to be rather helpless.

Kal Skirata is not someone to be fooled by an impassioned speech from a stranger, but he and the administrator were speaking their own little language in that scene. It was less about what they said than about getting the measure of each other, and giving the right impression in return.

The next chapter will be a spicy one, and I intend for it to be out next week if I can get my life together long enough to write it. It's been a busy few weeks (also my excuse for why this wasn't posted on Wednesday like I had originally intended).

Thanks for reading! I'll see you all soon!

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