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kometqh · 7 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝

Viscount!Captain Rex x Maid!F!Reader The Viscount is a renowned bachelor, known for his kindness, his wits and his charm. Ladies from across the planet swoon over him, visit him, are denied by him. He is a respectable, well-known man. What nobody seems to know is his knack for venturing out into the night, returning home with treasures, jewels, drinks, and most of all, ladies of the night. What does one do when they are caught red-handed, by none other than a lowly maid? Word Count:3,474 Warnings: Descriptions of sexual activity, minor swearing, use of the word 'Master' in a non-sexual manner, also halfway unedited (will work on that). If I missed anything (pls im not good with tags) please let me know! ^^ A/N: This Rex fanfic idea took over my brain and I already have the whole story planned out and I'm in love <33

The evening burned so hot; the arid August air grazed through your lungs like gravel. The usually rackety crickets were unusually quiet, except for the occasional croak. The steady drip, drip, drip of water filled the still evening. And then, as your hands wrenched the dirty water from the rag, a hushed groan trickled from around the corner. It was quickly suppressed, but you had heard it. Slowly, you stood up from your crouched position, you abandoned the rug on the concrete. As far as you were aware, all the residents of the Viscounts’ manor were asleep. You took a step forward, craning your head in the direction of where the sound came from. Nothing. Just the occasional hum of crickets and your steady breathing.

With a few more steps forward, your heart leaped to your throat. It wasn’t nothing. Someone was there. Hidden behind the arched wall and doorway that separated the manor from the extensive, plush green, mile-long fields. Were they intruders? But the manor was so far out into the countryside. It would take hours to get there by carriage, never mind by foot. Who would bother going that far? But it was a possibility. An unlikely one, but still a possibility.

The grass was soft beneath your bare feet, cold and tickling as you inched closer and closer. Your thoughts were racing, and your heart was punching vigorously on your ribcage. What were you going to do, if they were in fact, intruders?

As you reached the wooden doorway you noticed it was slightly ajar. Enough to fit an arm through it, enough to not be seen by anyone unless they were standing directly in it, watching. The wood was harsh against your palm as you leaned against it, scraping warningly on your fingertips.

Your heart dropped. Your throat dried. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked up.

Breathy, desperate muffled moans, the ruffle of expensive silks and fine cotton, the rhythmic sound of skin against skin. It felt as though a bucket of cold water had been splashed in your face. This… You’d been hired as a House Maid. Previously you had worked in a number of different roles, so you had seen all the different kinds of dirty and awful in homes and manors alike. This wasn’t one of them. This was a situation you found yourself stunned at. Confused at. What were they doing?

The woman’s hair covered their faces, lending them some privacy in such an intimate, and yet such vulgar moment. Who were they? Servants? No. The clothing was too expensive, this place too hidden. All you knew was that this was deliberate. Whether you were meant to find them was a coincidence or not, you weren’t sure.

Unexpectedly, the woman leaned her head back. Her lips, coloured some finest shade of red, gaped openly at the sky above. You didn’t recognise her. But the male who had trapped her against the wall – you knew his face all too well.

He was your employer.

The Viscount.

A light gasp escaped you, realisation crashing into you like a carriage into a boulder. His head snapped in your direction.

Surprise gleamed in his eyes, but he continued his ministrations, his gaze locked onto you. As if he had casted a spell, you found yourself unable to move. Your feet were cemented to the ground, your lungs still as you held your breath. You were a mere statue, your gaze forever stuck on the pair before you. There was a glint of a warning in his irises, as if he was daring you to make a sound, daring you to interrupt him.

Your gaze wavered, straying to glance at the darkness behind.

The amber glow of a nearby lamp was the only source of light, the only thing that allowed you to comprehend what was truly happening. It flickered with each gentle breeze that passed, swaying alluringly on the burning wick. It burned warm, so warm you could almost feel the scalding, waxy trail of it across your skin. The fields behind were pushed away into the background, swallowed in complete and utter darkness, the forests looming in the far distance like a shadow. Whatever was lurking out there would have been a more welcome disturbance than what you were witnessing up close. You felt like a meagre, frightened insect tangled up and struggling in a sticky web you had no business soaring into.

The Viscounts’ voice snapped your attention back to him. No, it commanded you.

“Look at me.” He rasped out, and for a moment you faltered. You weren’t sure whether the command was directed at you, or the mystery woman. Were you beginning to get caught up in a fantasy you had no right to dream?

With another moan, she gripped the Viscount’s face, pulling it towards her. “Kiss me.” She uttered, looking up at him through a fan of thick, dark eyelashes. He was quick to oblige, leaning forward, pressing his lips against hers. His gaze slowly abandoned you, and so did the spell with it. Your feet no longer felt stuck, your hands no longer felt ice cold, and your breaths no longer felt suppressed.

Like a fawn, you scurried away, bunching your skirts in your hand. Your feet carried you as fast and as quiet as they could. Your sight landed on the wooden bucket you had abandoned, and with one hand, you reached for it. You couldn’t leave any traces behind. You couldn’t risk losing your job.

“What was I thinking?” You muttered to yourself as you entered the manor again, heading straight for the kitchens. How long had you spent staring and gaping at them? Surely long enough for the images to replay vividly in your mind, long enough for all the floors to dry up. The tiles sparkled like thousands of miniscule diamonds under the low glow of candles. Vases of ruby pink and white, carefully picked out roses littered the hallways, spaced exactly five metres apart until they stopped just before the kitchens.

One hand reached for the door, pushing on it with vigour.

In your hurry, you forgot one thing.

The doors creaked and protested loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls. You flinched, gripping the doors. You stopped them from moving, and warily glanced over your shoulder. Not a living soul in sight.

“Thank the lord.” You whispered, and silently slipped through the small space.

The door closed behind you with a soft thump, and you allowed yourself to take a deep breath. Through the nose, into the chest. You counted to three, holding your breath, before slowly exhaling. You repeated the motion as you emptied the bucket and hung the rags to dry. You continued it as you made your way to your small, closet-sized bedroom. Your steps were small, timid as you feared of walking past someone, anyone. Fear prickled at your skin; every sound of the manor caused goosebumps to flare up on your skin like a rash.

You couldn’t feel more relieved when the small, wooden door came into view. Gently, you twisted the doorknob, letting yourself in.

You let it stay open, just long enough to light a single candle.

The flame flickered as it grew, warmth extending from the wick to your fingertips. It engulfed the room in a fading orange glow as you closed and locked the door. The only sound in the room was your deep inhales and exhales, and the light creak of your bed as it dipped under your weight.

Your heart was pounding, blood thrumming deafeningly in your skull. Your stomach twisted in an unfamiliar knot, and a burning sensation settled at your core long ago. Your thoughts were quiet, replaying the sight like a melody on a gramophone.

You had stood there long enough to imprint the sight into your memory.

You could recount every second of the encounter, every drawn-out breath, every sound a scullery maid like you shouldn’t hear, as if you were a sinner in church.

“I’ll be lucky if I still have a job and a roof over my head in the morning.” You muttered to yourself as you stood up, readying for bed. You had a long day ahead tomorrow, to be sure.

But as you lay under the duvet, your mind couldn’t stop replaying the memory.

Those golden, dangerous eyes.

Morning rolled around faster than you had expected, your eyes snapping open when someone knocked loudly on your door. You scurried out of your bed, wrapping a stray blanket over your chest.

“Coming!” You shouted, searching for your shoes. You searched under your bed, and next to your small closet. They were nowhere to be found.

Two more knocks, and you moved towards the door. Screw it, you’d find your shoes later.

As the lock turned and the hinges swung, you were greeted with a surprising sight. The Housekeeper was at your door.

“Mrs Opal? What can I do for you?” You had asked, fighting hard to keep your surprise at bay.

The woman scorned you with a glare, her lips drawn into a thin line. She looked you up and down, her hands neatly folded behind her back. After a silent moment, she spoke up.

“The Viscount has requested your presence in his study… He says there is a matter he must discuss with you. Get dressed and make your way to the First Floor.” She said promptly, walking away before you had a chance to even think of a response. Confusion was clear on your features as you peered out, watching the Housekeeper disappear round the corner.

What did the Viscount himself want to do with you?

You shook your head, mumbling profanities under your breath. The door closed with a loud thud behind you as you began searching for your neatest piece of clothing. The best you could do was the violet petticoat given to every member of staff. Working as fast as you could, with practiced, experienced hands, you were dressed within minutes.

As your hand landed on the doorknob, your stomach churned. What could be so strangely important that the Viscount wished to speak to you?

Your footsteps were light and hurried as you made your way through the hallways, your voice soft as you greeted the other members of staff. The kitchens were already busy, with cooks and maids scrambling about to deliver breakfast to the family.

The footmen were at their stations, nodding lightly to you as you passed each one by. The rows of ruby pink and creamy white roses were a welcome sight, and a sense of calm washed over you. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been so bad. Maybe, possibly, you were about to receive the opportunity of a lifetime.

Your thoughts didn’t stray even as you made your way up the stairwell, the soft thud of your footsteps the only sound coming from the lower floors.

And, as you reached the first floor, you were greeted with the sight of the Housekeeper and the Steward moving animatedly, deep in discussion. They seemed to be… Aggravated. No, perhaps quarrelling.

They stopped as you approached slowly, your hands entwined together at your front.

“There you are. You look presentable.” Was the highest appraisal Mrs Opal could lend out. You gave a curt nod, thanking her quietly. The steward remained silent; his bird brown eyes trained on you. “Now follow us. The Viscount shouldn’t be made to wait.” She continued, leading you down the hallways. More light flooded the upper floor, and you couldn’t help but admire the view of the windows from afar. The ground floor and basements lacked natural light or windows, and it was more common for you to be scrubbing something during daylight hours.

Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged no more words in your presence, choosing to remain distant and silent. Their footsteps remained as light as a phantom’s, almost floating on the soft, teal carpet. They served their purpose; chilling you to the bone with anticipation and uneasiness.

The air felt cleaner up here, you noted. More windows had been opened, allowing fresh, countryside air to waft in. Along with it came the harmonious chirps of songbirds and insects alike. You rubbed the material of your skirt between your fingers, doing your best to wipe any sweat off as the doors to the Viscount’s study came into view. As the three of you came to a stop, Mrs Opal and the Steward exchanged glances, before turning to you. This time, the Steward spoke up

“When in the presence of the Viscount, you do not speak unless spoken to. You do not look at him, unless you are requested to do so. You do not sit unless you are permitted to. And last of all, we refer to the Viscount as ‘Master’. Are we clear?” His voice was like a nail under a tool, sharp and unrelenting as he hammered the rules into your skull.

“Yessir.” You answered quietly, not looking up.

“Wonderful.” He responded, and inched closer to the door. He raised a gloved fist to the door, and knocked three, distinct and perfected knocks, as if the rhythm and consistency of a knock varied from situation to situation. The doors opened before him, the hinges silent, unlike the ones on the ground floor.

“Come in.” A soft voice instructed, and the three of you walked in in a single file. The Steward led at the front, Mrs Opal stationed in the middle, and you at the end. The doors were closed behind your figure, and you failed to hide your jitteriness as you jumped slightly. However, you did succeed in supressing the urge to look back. Your head remained tilted downwards, your sight focused on the diamond-patterned carpet beneath your feet. A short-lived relief surged through you as you remembered; you had lost your shoes. You were essentially barefoot on the Viscount’s expensive carpet. The morning had already had a rocky start, what was next?

“This is the House Maid you requested to see, Sir. Is there anything else you need, Sir?” The Stewards’ voice softened, his stern posture shrinking under the gaze of the Viscount.

He must have whispered or something, as you were caught by surprise when both the Steward and Mrs Opal stuttered in confusion, and you once again had to fight the urge to look up.

“Must I repeat myself?” The Viscount asked, his voice deep and gravelly. Someone must have had an early morning, you thought to yourself.

The Steward shook his head, gesturing for Mrs Opal to follow him.

The doors opened, the sound of a few pairs of footsteps retreating reached you, before they swung again.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, flapping wildly like the wings of a hummingbird. Were the two of you alone? If so… Why?

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat, rubbing the pads of your thumbs on the cotton material of your skirt. Why was he so quiet? Were you meant to look up? No. The Steward – you really should have asked for his name – was stern on telling you to avoid doing so.

So what was the Viscount waiting for?

“You may look up, little one.” His voice was coarse, finer than the most miniscule, smoothest grains of sand on Tattooine. Heat rushed to your face, and you questioned whether it was from the uneasiness you felt or embarrassment. As your eyes met his, recognition rushed through you.

Those golden eyes. Stern, solid and unrelenting. And yet… There was something else. Something you couldn’t quite decipher as your heart leaped into your throat.

“Recognise me?” He asked softly, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Should you lie? Should you be truthful? Which option would ensure you’d keep your job?

A soft laugh bubbled in his chest. Your gaze wavered, and you found solace in focusing on the cedarwood desk separating him from you. You decided on the latter.

“Y- Yes, Master. You’re the Viscount, my e- employer.” You stuttered out softly, wincing as you seemed to be doing everything but looking confident and calm. Surely, this was some cruel joke. You were sure you had dreamed up the events of last night after collapsing into your bed from exhaustion. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be real.

You allowed yourself to look up at him once more, and your chest tightened at his expression.

He seemed to be amused by all this.

“Let us not beat around the bush, and get straight to the point. I know what you saw, little one. But do you know what’ll happen to you now?” He questioned once more, challenging you to look away. He was relaxed and yet domineering, confident, his form leaning against the chair, his legs spread wide open. He was the one with all the power here, as much as you wished he wasn’t.

You took in a deep, shaky breath before replying.

“I’ll be removed from my position as House Maid immediately, Master.” Your voice was steady as you maintained eye contact, your breathing method calming you down.

He remained quiet, observing you like a hawk watching its next meal. His thumb caressed the plush softness of his bottom lip in slow, circular motions.

“If I may be dismissed, Master, I shall go and pack my belongings.” You tried again, before you paused. You broke Rule Number One. Do not speak unless spoken to. The Viscount betrayed none of his thoughts at your mishap, though he quirked a curious brow at you.

But what did it matter if you were about to lose your job anyway? And with that, you went against your better judgement once more.

“If I’m honest, though, you shouldn’t be so… Intimate with a strange woman at late hours of the night in your back garden, Master. At that point you are begging to be caught. So, technically speaking, it is not my fault,” You paused, pursing your lips, “If it were any other servant, the whole manor would know by now.”

Kriff. What were you thinking?

He gave a soft hum in response, his posture straightening up.

“You dare speak to your employer so… Callously?” He questioned, but you didn’t grace him with another smart-ass response. You had dug yourself a deep enough grave already, you might as well forget your headstone.

“To ease your confusion, I wasn’t aware that any servant would be working at such late hours of the night. I also own this manor, and do you know what the word ‘own’ means?” He questioned, quirking a brow at you, again. “It means it belongs to me, it means I can do as I please, with whomever I please, wherever I please. Does that aid you in your confusion?” He rounded his desk, his footsteps light and calculated right until his chest was inches from yours, his figure towering over you. Your breathing stopped completely, your eyes almost bulging out from their sockets as your heart raced faster than a horse. You had royally, majorly pissed him off, haven’t you?

Unexpectedly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The crease between his brow eased up, and for once, the Viscount looked relaxed.

“I admire your confidence, little one. No one has ever spoken to me so… Plainly. Rudely, even. But I’d reign it in a little, for future reference. I’m not going to dispose of you, no.” He whispered, searching your eyes with his own, as if there was a lost treasure buried deep within the vibrant colours of your irises.

“You’re… Not?” You asked again, swallowing harshly. Clearly he wasn’t too bothered by your obvious disregard for the rules he imposed on the servants.

He shook his head, still smiling down at you.

“No. I’m instead promoting you. You’ll work as my personal servant, after all, I can’t have you be free to gossip about my nightly endeavours to anyone. Wouldn’t you agree, little one?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing you up and down.

Heat rushed over your face like a flame, burning and scalding until you were left as nothing but ashes. Why was he so relaxed? So calm? What was going on?

You blinked once, then twice, before remembering to breathe. His scent flooded your senses, until all that you could think of and feel was the Viscount himself. He smelled like a warm, wet spring day, of pine needles and steady streams of water. Was this man anything but perfect?

His fingers gently cupped your chin, tilting your head upwards until he had your entire attention focused on him.

“What do you think?” He inquired again, dissatisfied with your lack of response.

You fought your way out of his touch, shaking your head.

“W- What?”

Tags: @actuallybarb <33

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floffytofu · 9 months

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Reader : stop doing that

Anakin : doing what?

Reader : you making kissy face

Anakin : kissy what?

Reader : the disgusting face when you see padme like you want to kiss her or something, you both just like master and cody. eww

Anakin : hey i'm not─ wait... MASTER DID WHAT?!!

#codywan #star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone wars #padawan reader #child reader #anidala #inccorect quotes #clone wars incorrect quotes #star wars incorrect quotes #anakin x reader platonic

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curlygirlybitchachos · 1 year

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Padawan Reader

(Christmas special)

*Obi-wan drinking his morning tea peacefully*

*Y/n appearing from their room with a present*

Y/n: Happy Christmas.

Obi-wan: oh dear you don't have to.. . Oh! What a lovely mug! But why it says "Second best Dad"?

Y/n: you tried.

* Cody watching them with his "Best Dad" mug, drinking caff*

+Bonus

Anakin with an "Okayest brother figure" shirt in his hands: PADME! THEY DID IT AGAIN?!

(Take this little thing as my Christmas present. Happy Christmas to you guys!)

#star wars #clone wars #star wars incorrect quotes #clone wars incorrect quotes #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padawan reader #commander cody #codywan #padme amidala #anidala #anakin x padme #christmas #y/n is a little bitch

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anakiinhighwalker · 2 years

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Star Wars Boys and how they are in relationships!

> Obi Wan Kenobi 🪐

Loving is a word that can definitely describe Obi Wan. He’d cater to your every need, he’d take care of you whether you’re sick or unwell, he’d even go as far as to make excuses on leaving missions early to check up on you if you really ask him to.

Obi Wan struggles quite a bit, though. For as loving as he is, he still feels guilt for violating the Jedi Code—something he values quite closely. Despite that, he will always choose you over the Code, no matter what day, month or year.

He’s a gentle lover. He hates being rough with you; it’s unmannerly and rude! He loves to make you feel appreciated in an old fashioned yet effective way. Obi Wan leans more to being a kind boyfriend who loves to wind down and watch the sunset rather than to roughhouse or debate.

That being said, Obi Wan does not shy away from arguments. He’s very outspoken about his ideas, beliefs and his morals. The many times he argues with Anakin and even the Jedi Council should show how he’s not afraid to speak his mind.

Obi Wan’s kisses are otherworldly to put it simply. You have no idea how a Jedi, someone who should be single and detached from the materialistic world, is so good at kissing. His soft kisses are incredible to experience. They make you feel soft tingles in your back and arms; you love everything about his kisses.

You’ll never have to worry about your sweet Kenobi becoming jealous because this man rarely ever gets jealous. Not just because of his well sized ego of him being a famed War General, it’s also because of the tremendous trust and faith he has in you. The love of his life would never leave or doubt him. He just knows it. However, he will get jealous and be protective if he feels you’re being targeted by some creep.

His more rough kisses are still as rewarding. Often his more passionate kisses come from a long struggle in a battle, a fight or a mission that nearly cost him you. They’re like a shooting star crashing into you but instead of exploding and destroying, it engulfs you with its warmth and simple adoration.

You’re special to him. I mean, you were enough to make THE General Kenobi go against the Jedi Code. You’re someone he treasures, someone he adores and feels nothing but love to.

I can’t stress enough how much Obi Wan loves you. You relax him when he needs to relax and rile him up before a long, hard mission. You’re everything he’s ever wanted.

Quality time is something you will always get with him. Even if it’s just a simple 5 minute intervention before a takeoff, he’s right there with you sneaking tiny kisses.

Give him hugs he likes your hugs :)

> Anakin Skywalker 💫

Where do I even begin with Anakin? He’s passionate, adoring, loving, protective and incredibly emotional. This man is literally guided by his emotions.

You’re his. And his alone. Whether you’re his crush, his fiancé, his spouse, you mean everything to him. He will actually destroy the world to keep you safe. Anakin adores you so much that it actually hurts him when he can’t hold you and kiss you.

Speaking of his kisses, is this man passionate. He’s always rough even when he doesn’t mean to be rough. Kissing you is always a magical experience for him so he often challenges himself subconsciously to sweep you off your feet. And boy, does he do exactly that!

He lifts and spins you when he hugs/kisses you, he holds you bravely in front of every Jedi who can see, he’s always touching you and that ranges passing shoulder rubs or him basically trapping you between his strong arms and broad chest.

Anakin is infatuated with you. You mean so much to him. He simply adores you. When he loves you, I genuinely mean Anakin loves you. When he first fell for you, he really believed you were Jedi mind tricking him into loving you so vividly and adoringly.

He’s adoring and protective but he can be overprotective a lot of the time. He made a silent promise to never lose a loved one ever again and he intends to keep it no matter how difficult situations get. That mentality is worsened by his belief that he will do everything in his power to keep you safe and sound, even if that meant you hating him for it.

Jealous. It’s extraordinary how Obi Wan is so relaxed with potential rivals but his Padawan isn’t. Anakin literally seethes whenever he feels like you’re being eyeballed by a too friendly man. He doesn’t care about titles either. Did you see how he whooped Clovis’ ass? It’s like Anakin gets primal when he feels jealous/possessive. He disregards who he is as the Chosen One and disregards who he’s facing. Nobody will ever harm or take you away. Ever.

He’s passionate and fiery 24/7 unless he’s tired and about to fall asleep. He doesn’t rant a lot about his ideas because he’s honestly too awkward to go on rants like that by the fly. But, he’ll of course hear you out and by hear I mean Anakin intently listens to you.

Good boyfriend :)

> Din Djarin

Inexperienced and shy. No convincing me otherwise. Dude is a struggle when it comes to removing his fucking helmet so I feel like Din wouldn’t really be super experienced in love. He’s more of a punch your feelings out type of guy, Y’know?

Regardless of his shyness and inexperience, he fucking loves you. He’s super awkward about holding you but when he holds you, my God does he hold you so right. You feel so loved and so cozy and so warm even when he’s wearing his Mandalorian armor!

Din loves everything about you. He really does. He doesn’t know exactly how to show it or how to say it but when you do something—anything, he feels like a teen boy getting his first real crush. You’re so amazing and he doesn’t even know how.

Helmet bumps. It’s odd to many people but to you? It means the world. Din is really introverted so when he openly shows his love to you by gently nodding his helmet to your temple or forehead, you’re over the moon. You kiss his helmet back and that’s when Grogu starts to giggle because Din looks silly with so many kisses on his helmet.

P R O T E C T I V E. He’s almost as bad as Anakin. That’s not an exaggeration, he will protect you with everything he has. Of course, he won’t stop you from battle; he’s a Mandalorian by oath. He has to respect warriors and fighters. But this clashes with his own trauma and how he goes about it. He loves you too much to let you get hurt. So he finds the balance. He will respect your battles until you speak up for his help or you desperately need his help.

Not much of a smooth talker. Not much of a talker at all. He shows his love in little ways like how he gives you the bigger side of breads or how he gives you more space to nap in his little cozy spot under Grogu. And yes, he does sleep in his armor.

He gets really chatty during late times in the Razor Crest, surprisingly. Grogu’s fast asleep and dreaming about as many frogs as one can hope for, you’re sitting next to him and it just kinda brings out the chatty cat in him. You two often talk about current events, the future, things you like, Grogu, anything you can ever think of you two have probably talked about it.

Din respects your privacy as much as you respects his. You mean so much to him. He’s godlike when it comes to giving you space. ALSO HE CHEWS WITH HIS MOUTH CLOSE THANK YOU DIN.

Not really jealous but not really Obi Wan’s level of chill. He distrusts every stranger automatically so he puts himself between you and random strangers at bars. He’s always on the lookout for potential creeps and when he gets a feeling something will start, he immediately shuts it down and takes you away from that situation. Never gonna catch him lacking.

> Han Solo 🍶

He’s annoyingly in love with you. He teases you and embarrasses you with how loving he can be sometimes. Han likes to lean against walls or even corner you and beg for kisses before Chewie starts laughing at his flirting. If he towers over you, you bet he will definitely use that to his advantage.

Passionate kisser, no matter what time or day is it. Han loves to kiss you with as much passion as he because you’re the love of his life; you’re the bread to his jam. You will never ever be kissed by Han in a soft way, he’s always so passionate and honest with his kisses.

PDA God. You think Anakin’s bad wait until you meet Han Solo. He’s the king of holding your waist so close to his you’re practically hip to hip. Han has never kept his hands or himself whenever you two touched down anywhere. Of course, Han respects your boundaries. Never would he put his hands on your privates or somewhere you explicitly said you don’t want him to.

The king of kisses. You could doing anything, you could just be helping Luke or Leia and Han comes up behind you and begins to kiss your cheek and your temple and everywhere in your face. He just loves that feeling of holding you and you complaining about his sloppy kisses is like music to his ears.

Nobody messes with Han Solo’s sweetheart. He is so protective when it comes to protecting you, so much so that he gets violent. Not to you, never you, but to the person who’s messing/flirting with you. Han has a pattern of asking you “Is this schmuck messing with you?” before absolutely destroying the creep either with his hands or his gun.

The definition of a brag. He brags all the time. His ego isn’t that big but he’s not that humble at all. He loves it when you join in and praise him, he loves getting praised. He also really loves to give and receive compliments so make sure to always compliment your dumb scoundrel about how handsome he looks.

He’s so adoring. He will buy you anything. He will actually spend so much money on you that you AND Chewie have to remind him not to.

Bro will wear a shitty sweater u made him :)

> Luke Skywalker 🌙

He’s so soft. Like wayyy softer than Obi Wan. When Luke touches you, he’s so gentle and his fingers barely have any pressure on them. Even his metal arm is so gentle and hardly grazes you.

Like Din, he’s shy. He’s a moisture farmer from Tatooine. His first kiss was with some girl he hardly remembers. He’s very shy so what often happens is Luke will simply just hold your hand or stand really close to you in public. Unlike Solo, he’s very reserved when it comes to affection.

Luke is very soft spoken. He’s such a good storyteller too! He tells you all about his misadventures and how much he’s seen as well as what it’s like to be one of the few remaining Jedi. When you’re with Luke, you’re never bored or anything—he’s always telling you about his life. And, for as much as he tells you he wants you to tell him about your life, too.

Kiss his cheek and Luke will bite back his boyish smile. Kiss his lips and Luke will literally lay on his back, smiling like a goof and staring into nothing. He’s so into you that one day he wants to make you his spouse. He’s already planning out his wedding ideas!

You are the thing that motivates him the most from anybody else. Whether it be your kisses or your dreams, Luke is so inspired and deeply in love with you. He’d do anything to make your dreams a reality.

Protective to a T. He’s very outspoken and will speak up if someone is bothering you, and even if he’s not a hulking 6’6 figure, he will intimidate many people with just how fiercely protective he is over you.

He doesn’t strike me as jealous, he seems to reason everything in his mind. But since no one is perfect, he obviously will have his moments of weakness and will get jealous. Please reassure him with kisses and embraces.

You will always get a hug before and after a battle. You help ground Luke back to reality. :)

> Captain Rex (I love this man)🌛

He’s super professional. He won’t cuddle you at all during missions and just keeps his distance so that you two don’t end up fooling off. However…

Once that ship lands, Rex is staying near you 200% of the time. He will do everything and anything in his power to keep you safe during battles. Even if Rex seems a little cold during missions, just know that in his mind nothing is run in more rapid than his thoughts on you and your well-being.

His kisses are strong. They’re confident and he definitely knows what he’s doing (seriously, where did he learn this stuff?). When he kisses you there is always a wave of reassurance and love that passes over you. And you’re pretty sure that the same wave of love passes over Rex with how much love he had in eyes for you.

You’re funny if you think Rex isn’t protective. He was made a soldier and is under General Skywalker’s command, one of the most possessive and protect man to ever exist for the Jedi. So Rex has certainly picked up his own protective personality. This man is the definition of overthinking and ready to fight for his babygirl.

PDA really isn’t his style; it’s too much for him. He likes to show his love in his own way. Like when he invites you to help him clean his armor or when he teaches you how to do things like fix an entire Republic ship engine by yourself with just duct tape and a screwdriver. He thinks love showed be shown in ‘productive’ ways.

That doesn’t mean Rex doesn’t hug or kiss you. Like I said before, his kisses are strong and safe. His hugs even stronger. You’ll melt into his delicious arms.

Not that jealous of a boyfriend. Rex never gets jealous because he hates dragging negativity from a third party into your relationship. He’s very mature and rationalizes people flirting with you. He won’t get violent immediately but he will if it means protecting you.

Rex calls you soldier affectionately. Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me he wouldn’t call you soldier affectionately.

He brings you cool rocks or cool (safe) plants he finds on planets he visits :)

> Commander Cody 🌜

He’s kinda like Rex except he’s like, slightly more dramatic and the only reason he’s more dramatic is because of Obi Wan ‘Hello There’ Kenobi.

He’s a little more open to affection than most other clones. He’ll kiss your cheek before and after a battle, rub your knuckles if there’s a rough landing and reassure you verbally that everything will be fine.

Cody prioritizes the mission but there are times where he orders his men to carry out the mission to rescue you or go after you and keep you safe. He can’t bare the thought of losing you like he’s lost so many of his brothers.

Not big on PDA, very reserved with his little moments of love. He doesn’t want his men to see him as a big softie, too. Especially not General Kenobi.

Likes to sit down and just sit there in silence next to you, watching clones tinker with the ships and the platoons helping shinies around. You two might even hold hands secretly watching the organization of squads.

Cody isn’t jealous THAT IS unless he is in a petty mood. If you two have a fight and you go jogging up to Rex to tell him the General’s orders before him, he will get slightly petty verbally. Like he’ll make a passing comment about how you seem to like Rex over him.

You two don’t argue a lot. That is unless Cody gets petty. You love that big goof regardless of his petty moments.

HE IS SO SASSY SOMETIMES. You think he’s been hanging around Obi Wan too much.

The type of boyfriend to let you measure his hands next to yours and see how big/small your hands are to his.

He is in love with you bro. He’s infatuated. He didn’t even know he could fall in love until he met you. You swept him off his feet. But don’t actually sweep Cody off of his feet because he will feel embarrassed :)

#star wars x reader #din djarin #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #captain rex x reader #commander cody x reader #han solo x reader #luke skywalker x reader #din djarin x reader #501st x reader #imma write a part 2 with mommy Ventress #obi wan and anakin

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moonlit-imagines · 4 months

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warnings:

a/n:

not requested

“Well, Cody, Master Yoda has finally assigned me a new padawan. I almost thought he’d forgotten.” Obi-Wan joked as you stood beside him with a kind smile. “And he did not disappoint.”

“Sure didn’t, General.” Cody replied, removing his helmet. “I’m Commander Cody, good meeting you.”

“Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I look forward to working with you.”

“You gonna have my back out there, kid?” Cody tilted his head up slightly and smirked.

“You know it.” You looked up at him and smiled, noticing his fist reaching out. You put your own out and bumped over and under, then looked over to your new master.

“I think you’ll be a great addition to our battalion. That is—if you can follow orders. My last padawan was not much of a listener.” Obi-Wan told the two of you, who both laughed.

“So I’ve heard.”

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#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #commander cody #commander cody imagine #padawan!reader

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knightprincess · 1 year

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Chaotic Mischief (A Star Wars Oneshot)

Warning: Fluff, Clone Humor, little bit of flirting (tiny bit of Wolffe x Jedi Reader) Words: 4.7k

The Build Up!

Mischief wasn't uncommon among clones, especially the Shinnies and the troopers whom had been freely allowed to become individuals. 79's during the downtime was where the ideas of mischief were thrown around. Sometimes they were as simple as pulling pranks on some poor unsuspecting soul. Other times it was far more risky, such as daring a Shinny to obtain the helmet of a superior. Something that was far harder to do than the troopers believed. Chaos was always sure to happen when the 501st were back on Coruscant, Fives and Echo were normally the ones behind it, although Jesse, Kix and Tup had also helped on occasions, Hardcase too when he wasn't too busy flirting with one of the many beautiful patrons.

:readmore:

On the odd occasion when Rex was reunited with Cody, Thorn, Gregor, Wolffe and Howzer, things could really get interesting. The last time the six were together, a game of truth or dare happened. To say there were more dares than truths being told, was the understatement. Cody had told so many stories about Obi-Wan, the others joked about him being the inaugural member of the Obi-Wan Fan club. Thorn had been tasked with getting a kiss from the most beautiful person at the bar, of course Thorn had fun with it, why just settle for one, when all of them were beautiful in there own way.

Gregor had stood up on the bar, doing a mini dance while stripping from his plastoid armor. All while Wolffe had generally questioned his own sanity and that of his brother. Gregor of course paid little mind to those he shared a booth with, instead reveling in the attention he got from those who enjoyed the show. Howzer on the other hand, decided to challenge almost all his clone brothers to an arm wrestling match. Even when he knew the odds weren't in his favor. Echo and Fives, making a wager. If Howzer lost against both of them. All six in the booth would have to go through with a particular dare, they had in mind to commit. Although neither gave details on what they had in mind. Without a second thought, the drunk Commanders and Captains had hastily agreed. Only to regret their decision mere seconds later when Howzer was swiftly defeated by both Arc Troopers. Although neither gave any indication on what they had in mind or when it would be put in to play.

They did however taunt Rex about it, over their rotations on the battlefield. Never failing to remind him of the wager and dropping subtle hints of what was to come. The moment they returned to Coruscant, and found out the remaining Commanders and Captains were also back for down time, was when Fives' famous wicked grin appeared upon his lips. Echo merely shaking his head, both with dread for the reactions and to control his overactive imagination. Even more so when he remembered the discussion to involve several Jedi in the fun and games as well.

"Put us out of misery" commented Cody, as he looked to the two Arc Troopers collectively referred to as the Domino Twins. A neon blue drink in hand as he prepared for the worst case scenario, knowing when it come to the pair, anything was possible. Even the impossible. Fives and Echo could only share an expression of pure mischief. Something that only brought more dread to the six before them.

"You've heard of helmet switch-a-roo, right?" asked Fives, knowing the question was daft. Especially since Rex dealt with that on the battlefield let alone during down times. The last game of switch-a-roo had also included an unwilling Dogma, whom had somehow ended up with Tup's helmet. Tup himself had Jesse's, whom in turn had Fives helmet. Five's had Echo's helmet, who had Kix's one. Even Hardcase had gotten involved and worn Dogma's helmet. Although Rex had caught on, it had taken General Skywalker a little longer to realize.

"We're daring you to the big brother. Armor Switch-A-Roo" laughed Echo, watching with amusement as the golden eyes of his brothers become flooded with concern, dread even on what they were going to be doing while wearing the armor of another. "And you'll be spending the day in each others off duty roles" quickly added the Arc Troopers, stifling a laugh when Wolffe's head hit the table, a loud groan escaping him. Of course it would be something like that. Yet the groan was in response to realizing some of them would be around the Jedi Temple and Senate, as well as the military base.

"If we die I'm haunting the two of you" commented Gregor, a spark of amusement flashing through his golden eyes. Even more so when he realized, whomever got his armor, would have the duty of protecting a certain favored Jedi. His iconic laugh soon escaped him, especially when he knew the odds of fooling Jedi were against them. They're own General's knew them well and would surely recognize something was off. Just as the many senators roaming the senate building would notice when something was off with Thorn.

"Do we at least get to choose who we switch with?" questioned Howzer, his head smacking against the sticky table mere moments later when both Fives and Echo had both shook their head. Denying them what would have made the game of Switch-A-Roo easier. Only now did Cody and Rex share a look of dread. Gregor once again laughed, this time nervously. Where as Thorn grabbed his bright blue drink and downed it, in an attempt to drown the horror threatening to bubble up.

"Care to deliver the blow and tell us" slurred Thorn, watching as the duo took the helmets from the back of the booth. Choose to switch the helmets instead of using words. Although the pair, planned to tell them again in the morning, when they were nursing a hangover, if only to remind them it wasn't a nightmare but the reality they had agreed to when making the wager.

Echo handled the helmets with care, looking closely at the individual markings. How each were different, and made them easily identifiable. Carefully he handed Wolffe, Gregor helmet, the obvious choice, as Gregor was the only one Wolffe could realistically pass as. Gregor on the other hand was given Thorn's helmet, confusion soon washed over his tired features. He'd wrongly assumed he'd receive's Wolffe's helmet in response, so was surprise to get the one belonging the Coruscant Guard.

Rex had been the one to be receive Wolffe's helmet. A chuckle had instantly ripped from his throat, even more so when it would be obvious he wasn't the tough battle worn Commander. Cody had been given Rex's helmet, to which an instant wicked grin appeared on his lips, it being clear he knew what chaos he'd cause while dressed as his old friend and brother. Something that only brought gripping dread to Rex. Thorn on the other hand received Howzer's helmet, swearing under his breath, as it would mean he'd be in close proximity to many Jedi General's, a thought that brought both dread and of course amusement, would they take notice of the little things. Howzer on the other hand, quickly determined the only helmet left was Cody's, to which he cheered, clearly his silent prayers to the maker had been answered.

"Remember whatever chaos you cause while wearing the others armor, has to be explained by said owner" casually spoke Fives, confirming the Jedi would be none the wiser of the mischievous antics, and would thrust ask about the odd inconsistencies should they be noticed. "Wolffe we wish you luck. Gregor is on protection duty for (Y/N) tomorrow" laughed the Arc Trooper, his laughter only growing upon hearing the growled yet muffled response. Of course they'd thrown him head first at (Y/N), he be an idiot if he thought they'd let the opportunity pass them by. After all his affection for the Jedi Knight was only known by those sharing the booth and a few others. It was a closely guarded secret Wolffe had unintentionally let slip during the last game of Truth or Dare.

The Morning Of!

When morning come, each of those apart of the mischief groaned. Wolffe in particular found himself with confusion. Why did he have Gregor's Commando armor? Where was his own?. He soon noticed the little light in the top corner of his datapad blinking, sighing as he carefully placed Gregor's helmet to the side and grabbing the small device. Instantly regretting the decision upon seeing a video message from Fives there.

"So that wasn't a nightmare" commented Wolffe, throwing the pad on his bunk before once again reaching for Gregor's helmet. Carefully studying it, the many markings scattered all over it, even a few scorch marks, the fading yellow paint around the visor, even the bright blue light to appear, when held in a certain way. The battle worn commander, taking notice of how heavy the helmet felt compared to his own, even the roughness beneath his fingers.

"How the kriff does Thorn see in this thing" voiced Gregor, walking into the nearby desk, as he flicked at the black painted shade over the top of the visor. The commando's words pulling a rare chuckle from Wolffe. The commander amused by Gregor holding his arms out in an effort to gain stability while wearing the foreign helmet, and making his way over to the spare bunk without tripping or bumping into anything else. "I saw Rex, poor bugger, looks ridiculous wearing your armor" joked the Commando, taking off Thorn's helmet just in time to witness Wolffe display his signature eye roll. "It kind of looks like Rex shrunk in the dryer" laughed Gregor, receiving another chuckle from Wolffe, clearly the battle worn commander could imagine it.

"Makes you wonder what the others are going to be like?" questioned Wolffe, suspecting the others would probably have a better fit, especially Cody, whom had Rex's armor. Howzer too could probably get by without much trouble with Cody's armor. "I'm expecting Thorn to complain about not having a kama" added the commander of the wolf pack, recalling Thorn asking the night before how Cody, Howzer and Gregor could operate without one. Even pointing out both Arc Troopers to issue the daring mischief were in ownership of one.

"Oh he's already started. Stated he felt naked without one" laughed Gregor. As if on cue, Thorn walked passed, stating he already missed not wearing the belted cape, even how lost he was without it. His next words were asking Gregor to take care of his precious kama while impersonating him for the day.

Cody, Rex and Howzer soon appeared behind Thorn, all but scaring him into the small room completely. Gregor's laughter ringing out as Wolffe also offered a chuckle, but that was more to see Rex practically drowning in his armor. Gone was the dark blue markings, instead he donned the familiar grey wolf insignia. It was odd for Wolffe to see his armor on another, although he soon reminded himself it was only for a few hours, then all would be back to normal again.

"I feel like a kid wearing their parent's clothes" admitted Rex, once again re-adjusting one of the shoulder plates, carefully placing Wolffe's helmet on the desk.

"You look like a kid wearing their parents clothes" commented Wolffe, amusement flashing in both his golden eye and dull cybernetic one. Thorn chuckling breaking the silence quickly, as Cody mentioned he wanted to take a picture to remember this.

"Don't forget we have to think of something to say if we're caught" reminded Howzer, shuddering to think that was a possibility. At the same time he knew the risks were high, some of them were around observant senators, others around the Jedi, whom could likely sense when something was amiss. "And to explain everything tomorrow"

"Already got mine" announced Thorn, chuckling although not elaborating any further. Wolffe piped up mere seconds later confirming he too had something in mind for explaining everything the following day, although even he'd admit explaining why his armor didn't have its normal snug fit was going to be a little more difficult. Cody also hinted he had something in mind, as did Rex whom could already predict what Cody was going to get up to.

"Have fun flirting with (Y/N), Wolffe" remarked Cody, only receiving a huffed growl from the commander in question. It being clear he regretted revealing that secret, even more so when his brothers so often teased him about it. Even General Plo did although he did so in an encouraging way, almost as if he knew something others didn't. "Why does (Y/N) need protecting anyways, she's a bad-ass Jedi Knight" asked the commander of the 212th, finding it odd a Jedi with (Y/N)'s reputation would need protection.

"Targeted by Dooku and some separatist leaders. Her cover was blown the last time she went on an assignment to protect Senator Amidala" explained Gregor, revealing the truth few knew of. "(Y/N) and Senator Amidala could pass as sisters, hence why (Y/N) had posed as her during a previous assignment. Sadly it had gone wrong, resulting in a bounty being placed on the Jedi Knight, hence her designated temple and senate duty" added the Commando, recalling (Y/N) being frustrated the last time he'd been on protection duty, she wanted to do more to help the Republic but was restricted on what she could do.

"Alright boys, lets get this show on the road" voiced Fives from the door way. Echo leaning against the opposite side. Rex immediately noticing they'd swapped helmets again. Both Arc Troopers breaking down in laughter upon looking around the group. Thorn's grumpiness about not having a kama, Gregor practically being squished into Thorn's armor. Rex's almost drowning in Wolffe's, Cody attempting to straighten Rex's kama, while Wolffe shifted uncomfortably in Gregor's armor. Howzer on the other hand, seemed content on messing with the visor shade on Cody's helmet, almost as if he was trying to re-adjust it a little.

The Mischief!

"Anakin, I think there might be something wrong with Rex" spoke Obi-Wan upon reaching his former padawan, concern ringing in his voice. At first the Jedi Knight looked confused, Rex wasn't anywhere in sight. Just as Anakin was about to voice the obvious, Rex appeared, running along and practically hugging Obi-Wan as if he was the alternative to gravity. Ahsoka chuckled slightly, quickly whipping her hands up to stifle her amusement.

"Seems normal to me, maybe a little more caf than usual" announced Anakin, chuckling as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in suspicion. The Jedi master untangling himself from Rex, recalling the time he'd had to do the same with Cody weeks before hand. The moment Obi-Wan walked away, Rex got his datapad out and chased after Obi-Wan, asking him for an autograph. Leaving behind a slightly confused Anakin and Ahsoka in a fit of laughter. Plo Koon chuckling to see it, although he didn't voice he had long since worked out what was going on, instead choosing to allow the mischief to continue.

"Master Plo" called Ahsoka, upon controlling her fit of giggles and regaining some composure. "Are any other clones acting oddly?" asked the Padawan, recalling seeing Commander Wolffe wrangling the 501st boys earlier, she'd never seen them behave so quickly, although Fives, Echo, Jesse, Tup and Kix seemed to be the exception, giggling like school children in the corner of the mess hall.

"Howzer seemed to be fond of causing confusion and chaos in the debriefing earlier" commented Plo, recalling the Captain had been hyperactive, almost skipping around the room. WIndu had practically grabbed his shoulders and all but forced him to stand still, not that it worked, within seconds Howzer was moving around again, twirling on the spot and practically bouncing off the walls. He'd started singing at one point.

"Rex, Howzer. Who's next?" questioned Anakin, almost dreading the response he'd get. "Maybe they switched the caf brand again. Rex always did say the last one tasted like droid oil" commented the Jedi Knight in hopes of explaining everything. Although if there was more than the two it would be harder to explain it.

"What's your reasoning for Wolffe deflating?" asked Ahsoka, seeing the confusion to pass over Anakin's features. Plo on the other hand chuckling slightly, refusing to give it away he'd worked out what was going on, instead he'd found himself with curiosity whom else was involved and the explanations each come up with. Particularly Howzer whom had to explain the debriefing.

"Looks like Thorn's having a good day" commented Padme, upon joining the group of Jedi down on the many halls. She'd come at the request of master Yoda, although it appeared to be a troublesome time. She'd passed many padawan's and younglings seemingly lost and confused about where they were going. Just as she'd bared witness to Howzer running away from Windu after tapping him on the shoulder and shouting "Tag your it".

Within seconds of the words leaving Padme's lips, Commander Thorn come waltzing down the hall, signing loudly and occasionally twerking. He'd thrown his hands up several times, the contents of the mug with Fox's name penned on long since gone everywhere. A few padawan's had been pulled into a dance, as a few masters had too. Each seemingly taken by surprise. "He was like that at the senate building as well. Flirted with senator Chuchi" laughed the Senator of Naboo. A smile on her lips to see the battle worn troopers seemingly having fun, a rare but welcome sight.

"Let me love you" called Rex, as Obi-Wan ran back down the long hall. The captain hot on his heels. Ahsoka once again bursting in to fit of giggles, as a few other younglings did too. Some of the masters looked confused as to what was going on, most shaking their heads with a little amusement before continuing. Even (Y/N) couldn't help the laughter to escape her, she'd always had a love for mischief.

"Your not going to do anything out of the ordinary are you, Gregor?" asked Obi-Wan when he stopped to catch his breath, hiding near one of the large windows overlooking the courtyard below. "I don't think I can take any more oddities today. First Cody's memory loss, now Rex" added the Jedi Master, still trying to wrap his head around Cody's apparent memory loss. Maybe it was the hit to the head during the prior battle, or the alcohol from the night before. Either way it was unsettling, although his loyal commander seemed to have some whereabouts. Keeping the boys of the 212th in line.

"No sir" responded Gregor, his response coming a little too quickly. "Just doing my duty protecting the Princess Jedi here" added Gregor attempting to act normally, although he knew some of his actions could be explained away by lasting damage from previous head injuries. Obi-Wan soon poked his head around the corner again, quickly dodging back when Rex passed by asking those around if they'd seen the negotiator. Dread filled Obi-Wan when another Jedi Master pointed right at him, causing him to dart from his position and around the nearest corner.

Howzer coming around the same corner moments later, shortly followed by a confused Mace Windu. Padme shaking her head slightly, as she regained some of her lost composure. Never had she seen the temple in such disarray, although she would admit it was nice seeing a less professional side of the peacekeepers. Howzer's voice soon rang out through the hall as another comment escaped him. "Gonna catch me?" His comment more of a question towards the Jedi Master behind him.

"Thorn, where's my mug" yelled Fox, storming down the hall towards the other commander. Thorn had since stopped singing and dancing, instead acting scared as he held up the ordinary white coffee mug. Although Fox's name had since been crossed out, being replaced with Thorn's own name. Thorn soon skipped off down the hall, giggling like a school girl as he all but taunted Fox with the ordinary white mug. Ignoring Fox yelling at him to come back and all but swearing about losing the mug again.

"And that's my cue" commented Gregor before throwing (Y/N) over his shoulder and walking off. Plo chuckling by the shock squeal to escape the Jedi Knight. Where as Padme and Ahsoka resorting to looking to each other for confirmation, at least to ensure they'd both seen Gregor pick up and all but run off with (Y/N). Anakin on the other hand blinked a few times, beginning to question his own sanity and that of the troopers around him. Slowly he was becoming suspicious, who else was going to act like they'd been hypnotized to act like kids, were his Jedi brethren going to start acting like it too?

"Pretty good view of chaos from up here" commented (Y/N), as she attempted to get comfortable over Gregor's shoulder. Well over Wolffe's shoulder. Although she hadn't voiced it, she was well aware Wolffe was in Gregor's armor, her senses not failing her. The arm securing her legs in place, only tightening as she attempted to wiggle around to gain comfort.

"Not a bad view from this end either" commented Gregor, finding himself glad for the thick armor, as he was sure he would have felt (Y/N)'s foot, thud against his thigh had he not be clad in plastoid.

"If I didn't know any better Captain. I would have thought you were flirting" spoke (Y/N)

"If I didn't know any better I would say you were enjoying it" responded Gregor, placing her back on her feet upon reaching the destination of the courtyard. The rare occasion where it was quiet and as normal tranquil.

"Should I ask why you brought me here?" asked (Y/N), moving to tidying her messed up hair, and straighten out her robes. Gregor on the other hand moved to sit on the steps, in front of the tree, ignoring the benches close by.

"Meditate" retorted Gregor, not bothering to turn around to face her. Although he suspected there would be a response shortly.

"Is that an order?" commented (Y/N), moving to sit at his side.

"Yup"

"I'm known to bend orders" laughed (Y/N), knowing there was truth behind her words. Although her former Jedi Master Plo Koon, always said she had a talent for still getting the job demanded from her done. She still got the needed results even if she did go about it a little differently.

"This will be the first you'll obey" replied Gregor, a playful tone to his voice.

"What makes you think that?" whispered (Y/N) when she was close enough, there was no doubt he'd hear her.

"Cause I asked nicely Princess" breathed Gregor. Almost surprised when the almost famous Jedi Knight seemed to concede and do as she was told, the words Roger Roger escaping her in a sarcastic tone. "Care to accompany me to 79's tonight?"

"Maybe" cheekily responded (Y/N). "Would be nice to see you in your own armor and without said helmet" commented the Jedi Knight, a grin appearing across her lips as she peered over. Seeing as Wolffe stiffened inside Gregor's armor. "Not to worry Commander, my lips are sealed"

"Have to work on that later" flirted Wolffe, as he settled back into the act of being Gregor, imitating his brother's famous laugh mere seconds later. Once again (Y/N) peered over to him, suppressing a chuckle as she attempted to regain her focus. Although it seemed to be a lost course at this point.

The Aftermath

When it come to explain the events of the day before. Some found it far easier than others. Thorn had simply explained it away as having too much caf that morning. He been hyperactive and in the mood to continue his running war with Fox for the prize coffee mug. He explained the flirting with Senator Riyo Chuchi as finding her particularly beautiful the day before.

Wolffe had simply said he'd lost a wager to Rex and had thrust agreed to keep the boys of the 501st in check. As for his armor not fitting properly, he mentioned something about Wrecker playing a prank on him, payback for something to have taken place at 79's before the last deployment.

Cody too had a simple explanation. He'd mentioned he'd visited the medbay upon returning to Coruscant after the last rotation on the battlefield. The headache combined with the hangover of all hangovers. He'd managed to keep the boys in check but his memory was spotty. Thankfully Obi-wan had brought the excuse and let it go after a few days of ensuring he had no after effects from the injury.

Rex on the other hand, almost chocked on his morning caf to learn what Cody had gotten up to in his armor. Although he'd been thankful for his explanation fitting with what had taken place. He'd simply said he'd joined the Obi-Wan fan club, after hearing Cody endless go on and on about how great the Jedi Master was. Cody had attempted to hide behind his datapad, covering his heated cheeks of embarrassment. Of course Rex would say that.

Gregor on the other hand struggled to come up with something when faced with explaining Wolffe's actions to (Y/N). He tripped over his words multiple times before the Jedi Knight had put him out of his misery. Revealing her knowledge of the mischievous dare each had taken part in and thrust knew Wolffe had been her protect the day prior. (Y/N) had spent time reassure Gregor following it, even helping him to come up with something should another Jedi question him.

Howzer almost had a heart attack upon finding out what Thorn had done the day before. He'd almost throttled the Commander to have impersonated him. No flimsy excuse was going to get passed Windu on this one. Nor the other Jedi to have been apart of the briefing. Eventually Howzer settled for being influenced by Rex, Thorn and Gregor, as well as having too much caf that morning. Sending the younglings in the wrong direction had been put down to a light hearted joke, after all everyone knew Howzer had a soft spot for kids.

Echo and Fives on the other hand managed to get hold of the records from the Senate building, Jedi Temple and Military base. Laughing to no end, especially seeing how Gregor had also played silly sods with the civvi medics and admirals while impersonating Thorn. No one had been safe from the chaos Gregor had caused. The recordings of Thorn impersonating Howzer throughout the Jedi Temple were just as funny, especially when Kix pointed out some of the younglings and padawan's had also played along with the game of tag.

Jesse's favorite recording had been of Cody impersonating Rex yelling "Let me love you" while chasing Obi-Wan down the hall. Seeing an array of emotions pass over Anakin's features had brought him to tears with laughter. The blank look, turning to confusion, questioning his own sanity, slight amusement, back to questioning his own sanity then finally settling on enjoying the chaos.

Kix had been the one to point out, both Plo Koon and (Y/N) had likely figured it out but had opted to keep the truth a well guarded. Something Wolffe later confirmed at 79's, (Y/N) also verifying it in her own words, just as she revealed Aalya Secura and Ahsoka had also worked out something was up, but not said anything. Instead both women happy to watch as chaos unfolded. (Y/N) also corroborating to both Echo and Fives, neither Obi-Wan or Anakin were none the wiser about the mischief to test them, just as the unsuspecting victim of Mace Windu had yet to truly put the pieces to together. Even Master Yoda seemed to be content on keeping the truth a guarded secret for now.

Tup had asked for the security recordings, intending on making a few videos of the chaos and sending them to the six to have taken part. He'd also congratulated Fives and Echo on masterminding the whole thing. The duo known as the Domino Twins cementing themselves as the most mischievous pair, thrust finally achieving their goal of overtaking Waxer and Boil. Although both knew the pair from the 212th Legion would eventually fire back in an effort to regain their lost titles.

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ddejavvu · 24 days

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Happy may 4th! Send me requests or headcanons about any Star Wars character, whether I’ve written for them or not, and I’ll power through a bunch of little blurbs for you all today and tomorrow🫡

If you’re undecided as to who you want to request for, here are a list of my personal favorites to write about! However, you're still welcome to request people not on this list:

Anakin Skywalker

Obi-wan Kenobi

Rex

Cody

Fox

Hound

Hunter

Wrecker

Wolffe

Din Djarin

Darth Vader

Han Solo

Shin Hati

Bo Katan Kryze

Padme Amidala

Darth Maul

Savage Opress

Luminara Unduli

Kit Fisto

#anakin skywalker x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #captain rex x reader #commander cody x reader #commander fox x reader #sargeant hound x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #commander wolffe x reader #din djarin x reader #darth vader x reader #han solo x reader #shin hati x reader #bo katan kryze x reader #padme amidala x reader #darth maul x reader #savage opress x reader #luminara unduli x reader #kit fisto x reader

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captainsophiestark · 7 months

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A Bad Idea

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 31 Prompt: "It's not your fault."

Summary: Obi-Wan and his best friend/fellow Jedi are getting Hondo's help on a mission. Predictably, things don't go according to their plan.

Word Count: 2,045

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: That's a wrap for Fictober gang! Thank you so much to @fictober-event for putting this whole thing on and to everyone who's read one of my stories! Honestly can't believe the amount of writing I got done for this event

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I think this might be the worst idea we've ever had."

"If you don't count ideas that Anakin came up with and we agreed to, then yes, it probably is."

Obi-Wan Kenobi and I stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramp of our ship, waving as the one and only Hondo Ohnaka came towards us. We'd recently gotten information that the Separatists were using a different group of pirates to smuggle things out of reach of the Republic, and together, Obi-Wan and I had decided the best way to infiltrate a pirate base was with the help of another pirate. On paper, it sounded perfectly rational, especially since we had a pirate contact we could go to. In reality, it was probably going to get us killed.

"Kenobi!" called Hondo once he got within earshot of us. "It is wonderful to see you again! And who is your lovely friend? A girlfriend, perhaps?"

Heat and embarrassment rushed through me, and I felt a wave of discomfort coming off of Obi-Wan in the Force too.

"Jedi don't typically date," he quickly explained, waving Hondo off. "And it wouldn't be any of your business anyway."

"I'm a friend of Obi-Wan's," I continued. "We grew up at the Temple together."

Hondo gave me a quick once over, then evaluated Obi-Wan the same way. Then, he smiled and held out his hand to me.

"Well, any friend of Obi-Wan's is a friend of mine! It is very nice to meet you, I'm sure!"

I forced a smile as I took his hand and shook it. I didn't think he'd meant to, but Honda had hit a very sore spot for me. I'd harbored feelings for my best friend for years now, against the Code, and I'd done my best every single day to hide them from him and from anyone else. A hundred Jedi who'd known me since birth couldn't tell, but this Weequay had hit the bullseye within moments of seeing me for the first time.

"Come on," Obi-Wan whispered to me, leaning in close to my ear so Hondo couldn't hear him as the Weequay moved past me into the ship. "The sooner we start this mission, the sooner it's officially over."

"Can't wait," I muttered. "And you said this guy was your friend?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "More like... acquaintance who tries to kill me sometimes. Although I think he unironically considers me his best friend."

I smiled a little at that, especially as Obi-Wan moved into the ship after Hondo and Hondo immediately flung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in. Based on the conversation I could hear as I brought in the ramp, Hondo was trying to convince Obi-Wan to sell him some of our Republic tech at a frankly ridiculous price. To no one's surprise (except maybe Hondo's), Obi didn't budge. He was remarkably gentle in his refusal, though.

After a brief challenge where Hondo insisted on piloting the ship and Obi-Wan had to convince him to sit in the passenger seat instead, we were on our way. With Hondo's help, we quickly found the pirate base we were looking for.

"Do you guys just constantly share locations with each other?" I asked as we came in for a landing not too far from the gates. Hondo shrugged.

"We do business with each other from time to time. Helps to know where your business partners are."

"Hm. Makes sense."

Hondo grinned at me. He clapped me on the shoulder and started walking down the ramp, and a moment later Obi-Wan took his place next to me.

"Don't turn your back on him," he warned. I turned, coming face to face with Obi-Wan. We'd known each other for most of our lives; I'd seen him a million times or more. But for this mission, we weren't in the typical Jedi robes, in an effort to go undercover. And seeing him standing next to me in a dashing pirate costume made my heart beat a little faster.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it." Obi-Wan stared off after Hondo, his expression clouded, so I reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder. "We'll be fine, okay? We've survived everything we've gone through so far. What's a couple pirates?"

"The last time I interacted with pirates, Anakin and I ended up handcuffed to Count Dooku."

I laughed as we started strolling down the ramp together to catch up to Hondo.

"Well, if we find ourselves in a similar situation, I promise to make fun of Dooku even more than Anakin did with you."

"That, I would look forward to seeing." He sighed, nudging my shoulder with his just before we caught up to Hondo. "I suppose there's nothing left for us to do but dive straight in."

"Like you said. Sooner we start, sooner we get to go back to Cody and other, saner partners in crime."

"The fact that Anakin is significantly more rational and predictable than Hondo is... concerning."

I chuckled, and Obi-Wan and I shared a smile. Hondo clapped us both on the shoulders once we'd caught up with him at the door to the pirate's fort, and then we headed inside.

The next thing I remember, I was waking up on a concrete floor, my head pounding. I groaned, lifting one hand to my head, and to my surprise something dragged my other hand with it. I opened my eyes.

I was handcuffed. More than that, I was apparently handcuffed to someone else. I turned to my right to see Obi-Wan, already sitting up and looking at me.

"Good morning."

"What happened?"

"We were played." I sighed and flung my head back. All that talk about having each others' backs and not trusting Hondo, and it had been for nothing. "We were jumped as soon as we made it through the gates. Hondo turned us over and went to collect a bounty for us from the other pirates."

"Oh wonderful," I sighed, slumping back against Obi-Wan. My heart sped up a little bit at our close proximity, but unlike every other time we'd been close, this time I couldn't chicken out. It was lean against him, or very clearly, obviously, and uncomfortably lean away from him.

"I should've known we couldn't trust him," Obi-Wan said. "I just thought that this time we were prepared, so Hondo wouldn't be able to get one over on us. I should've known better."

"It's not your fault. Even I'd started to believe Hondo was honestly going to work with us for this mission. The fact that he'd already double-crossed us, before we even got on the ship..."

I trailed off, shaking my head. Obi-Wan sighed, and we spent a few moments leaning against the wall and each other, hands close together and heads resting against each other. I could've stayed like that for a long time, if we hadn't been sitting in a jail cell.

"So..." I finally started, still not moving an inch. "What did you do the last time you were in this situation?"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. "Bickered with the Count, mostly. And made a few escape attempts. We would've been successful from the beginning had it not been for Dooku."

I huffed a small laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm here instead of him then, isn't it?"

"I truthfully can't think of anyone else I'd rather be stuck with."

We shared a smile, a warm feeling quickly dominating my chest. I couldn't quite stop myself from leaning forward ever so slightly, like Obi-Wan had his own gravity pulling me in. In this place, out of sight and temporarily forgotten by everyone else, being close to him didn't feel as scary as it did in the Temple or aboard the Negotiator.

To my immense surprise and delight, Obi-Wan leaned in too, a moment after me. He huffed a small laugh, his blue eyes sparkling.

"This is... probably a bad idea."

I didn't need to ask what he was talking about. I gave him a small smile and shrugged.

"No worse an idea than the one that got us in here in the first place."

"You certainly make a good point."

As one, we smiled and closed the remaining distance to each other, our lips meeting in a kiss I'd thought about a thousand times. It was even better than I'd imagined it would be, especially as I could feel Obi-Wan through the Force. My best friend, the man I'd loved a thousand different ways before I even really knew what the word meant, glowed with a happiness that matched mine.

No one had ever really found evidence that soulmates were real, despite all the mystical forces that did exist in the galaxy. But as I sat on the filthy floor of that cell and kissed my best friend, our energies twining together in the Force, I thought we'd come pretty close.

"Oh, this is very gross. And yet, it's exactly what I'd hoped to find."

Obi-Wan and I broke apart to find Hondo staring at us through the bars of the cell, a grin on his face. We fixed him with matching scowls.

"Come now, what are those looks for? You should be happy, look at the two of you!"

"Happy might be a stretch, since you double-crossed us," I said. Hondo's mouth dropped open and a hand flew to his chest.

"Double-crossed? No no no, I have done no such thing."

"Then why did we wake up handcuffed in a cell?" Obi-Wan demanded. "In my case, again."

"Ah, you see, it was all part of my brilliant plan!"

Obi-Wan and I shared a very, very skeptical look. Undeterred, Hondo pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket, still beaming at us.

"You thought the two of you, two Jedi, could actually sneak in here unnoticed? Ha! It never would have worked. So, I pretended to double-cross you, and while the two of you were in here admitting feelings for each other, I found your documents! After collecting the credits for turning you two over as prisoners, of course."

Obi-Wan and I stared, dumbfounded, as Hondo explained his plan and removed our handcuffs. We stood, helping each other up, both a little stunned that the Weequay had really outplayed everyone here.

"Come on, we must hurry," said Hondo, waving us after him as he headed for the cell door. "It won't take them long to figure out what we've done."

We spared one last shocked glance at each other, then hurried after Hondo through the winding halls of the pirates' lair.

"If you got your money and information, why did you come back for us?" asked Obi-Wan, suspicion dripping from his words. "Why not leave us to be cashed in for a bounty?"

I wanted to smack him for asking that question before we were safely back on our ship, but Hondo just turned to us, looking hurt and outraged that Obi-Wan would even suggest it.

"Kenobi, I am hurt! I would never do such a thing to such a good friend!" He turned, ignoring Obi's raised eyebrow as we at last made it out of the hideout. "Besides, there were no more credits to be gained by leaving you here. The only thing that would've happened was a profit for my competition."

I failed to fight off a smile. Now it all made sense.

Obi-Wan and I trailed just behind Hondo the last bit of distance to our ship, and cautiously, I slipped my hand into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, turning to fix me with a small smile.

"You know this is going to complicate our lives beyond belief, don't you?"

"Yeah. But I think it's worth it. Our lives are already wildly complicated anyway."

Obi-Wan huffed a small laugh. "I agree."

"With which part?"

"All of it. But especially the part about this being worth it."

He gave my hand one last squeeze, and we shared another tender look before reaching the ramp of the ship and returning to business mode. I let Obi-Wan lead the way, and as I closed the ramp, I could already hear Hondo bargaining with Obi-Wan for credits in exchange for the information he'd retrieved while we'd been in the cell. Despite the exasperation on Obi-Wan's face and in his tone, I could still feel that glowing happiness radiating off of him in the Force, a mirror to my own. We were going to be just fine.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

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yourneighborhoodporg · 1 month

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The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

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