#jedi general reader

[vizslasaber]

FRIENDLY FIRE ──── ii.

SUMMARY | The mission continues, and with it, your growing suspicion of Krell’s authoritarian methods. But the troopers relying on you—including Rex—lead you in the right direction: one of unyielding kindness, even when it’s hard.

PAIRING | Captain Rex x female Jedi!reader

WORD COUNT | 3.7k

WARNINGS | Combat/action, mentions of injury & death, Krell being a bitch as usual, gender neutral use of the term “sir,” gratuitous use of Mando’a, and one (1) curse word. Also, a Shakespeare reference because I’m a historian & couldn’t help myself.

A/N | Yay, chapter 2! As you'll probably notice, I changed the reader's story a little bit, and I like it better now as it adds more tension to the plot. Enjoy!

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SERIES MASTERLIST | TAGLIST | NAVIGATION | AO3

For once, you’re glad to have woken up early. It gives you time to get in a pep talk you know will motivate the men rather than bring their morale down, as you know Krell’s speech—which he gave upon arrival—would have done.

“Alright, men,” you call briskly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as you pace back and forth in front of the battalion. “You would all do well to remember that it’s not just the safety of the Republic relying on our success—the other battalions have placed their trust in us. Generals Kenobi and Tiin will stop approximately two kilometers outside the capital city, waiting for us to get close enough to begin our initial assault.”

You glance at Rex, who’s standing beside you, and nod for him to continue.

The Captain steps forward. “We’re about elevens klick behind them right now, and fifteen klicks from the capital,” he says. “We’ve got to make good time—and it’s going to be hard, what with the enemies we’re sure to meet along the way. The native population doesn’t play around, and neither do their weapons capabilities. Is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” comes a unanimous shout from the rest of the troopers. They start to disperse, packing up camp faster than your eyes can follow, and you nod to yourself in satisfaction.

“Rex,” you start, then hesitate as he turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Is it… are you alright with forgoing titles? I always seem to forget to use them.”

Rex looks almost torn—likely between protocol and what you’re asking—but eventually nods. “Of course, sir,” he says, then blanches. “I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I just don’t want to feel bad if I slip up.” He smiles slightly, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “As I was saying—do you have a chief medical officer that I can talk to?”

“Yeah, that would be Kix,” Rex tells you, then frowns. “Is… everything alright?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” You adjust one vambrace, looking out at the men, then at General Krell on the far side of camp, who’s been surveying the battalion tempestuously since you began to speak. “I just… wanted to ask him something. About battlefield medicine.”

“Are you a medic?” Rex asks, shifting his helmet to one hand.

You grimace at the clinical, militaristic term. “Something like that.”

Rex looks doubtful, but motions to a trooper with an intricately buzzed haircut who's putting supplies into a pack. "Kix—get over here!" he calls, before nodding to you and leaving as he puts on his helmet.

"General," the trooper greets with a crisp salute, and you notice that his pauldrons have the universal sign for medic painted on them in a bright, obvious red. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," you say with what you hope is a courteous smile, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. You're the battalion's CMO right?"

Kix tilts his head. "Yeah..." he says. "I'm not the only medic, though. Got a whole team of 'em. We specialize in what we do, sir, train for it our whole lives, so I don't want to be rude, but—"

"Don't worry about that," you cut in, shaking your head. "I'm not a medic—I haven't been trained in combative tactics—but I am a healer."

"So, like," Kix pauses, searching for the right word as he does so, "a Jedi doctor?"

You snort. "That's... one term for it, yes." You watch as Kix moves the weight of his medpack from one shoulder to the other. "Force healing is an ability that a Jedi is born with. Not every Jedi can become a healer—using the Force to reverse the effects of an injury is not something that can be learned."

There's a pause as Kix nods slowly. "Reversing the effects," he echoes, fascinated. "Even bacta can't do that—it just speeds up the healing process. Sounds like we could use your help."

"Yes," you say. "That's why I wanted to speak with you." You let out a sigh, remembering one of the first things your master told you as a Padawan. "But it's not all-powerful. Just like bacta can only heal what is able to be healed, Force healing cannot create a life force where there isn't one. If someone is near-death, trying to bring them back would render me unable to defend myself from exhaustion."

"Right," Kix replies. "So no resurrection."

"No resurrection," you affirm, smiling. "But I can help. And I know triage."

"Oh, that's even better!" Kix exclaims, then holds out his wrist comm. "Here—we've got a medic frequency—" he waits for you to scan his comm to yours, and when the happy little chime sounds, he pulls away. "Thank you, General."

"Of course," you say as he turns to leave. "And thank you, Kix."

The battalion falls silent and prepares to move out—but just as you’re double checking your armour, a cold, sharp presence casts a shadow over you. Turning around, you make eye contact with General Krell, who's now standing just a short ways from where you and Kix were talking—like he was listening.

“Conspiring with the soldiers, General?” Krell sneers, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. You raise an irritated eyebrow.

“Conspiring?” you repeat, glancing at the hastily assembling troopers. “They're hardly the enemy, Master Krell. I only want us to win this campaign as quickly and smoothly as possible." Before you can reign in your impulse control, you add, "And continuing to let the troopers rest will get us there faster."

“Rest is a luxury we cannot afford!” Krell snaps, and you jump in surprise at his excessive volume. He leans forward, acrid breath forcing you to resist the urge to cough. “The other battalions are far ahead of us, and you think we have time.”

“We do,” you reply calmly, despite your quickening heartbeat. “The men are keeping a good pace, especially with this difficult terrain. Fifteen clicks isn't far, especially with the supplies we have.” You purse your lips. “Now, I suggest we set off. Talking will slow us down as well, Master—and as you so wisely pointed out, luxuries are not something we can ask for.”

You walk away, then, and feel a rush of satisfaction enveloped in a Force signature that you’re almost positive belongs to Rex. Resisting a pleased smile, you let your hands drift to where your lightsabers are clipped to your belt before moving to walk beside Rex.

“Captain,” you greet, taking notice of the way Rex’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Shall we?”

“Yes, General,” Rex replies, voice clipped. He motions for the battalion to follow, and soon the two of you, along with a still angry General Krell, are leading the troopers through the unwelcoming terrain of Umbara.

The journey is precarious and—as much as you hate to admit it—tiring. Hours pass, and soon you’re almost to the checkpoint Rex had pointed out on the map, situated just outside the city’s heavily fortified border.

You stop for a moment, leaning against the glowing trunk of a colossal tree, and fidget anxiously with the tabards of your tunic.

“Sir,” Rex says, and you turn around. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in. What do you suggest?”

“We should continue with Anakin’s original plan,” you say quietly. “A surgical strike on the outer defenses—we must take great care not to needlessly damage any of the city’s buildings. I'd prefer minimal collateral damage when we’re done.”

It is a plan you’ve been turning over in your head since you’d landed on the Umbaran surface. Hopefully—and assuming there were no hindrances—it would succeed. Despite being overly idealistic, and sometimes a little too impulsive, Anakin is nothing if not a strategist—when he wants to be.

“If I may,” sneers Krell from behind you, and you set your jaw. “I do not think that General Skywalker’s futile plan will be necessary.”

In spite of yourself, you clench your fists at your sides. “And why not?” you grit out, not bothering to turn around as Krell comes to stand at your side, towering over your figure.

“Captain Rex and his insolent men have already brought it up with me, and I explained this to them as well. I hold the authority here, and I am ordering all platoons to execute a full-frontal assault,” Krell continues, seemingly unfazed by your irritated expression. “We will travel along the main route to the city and force them to yield.”

“Force them to—” you cut yourself off and draw in a deep, calming breath. There is no emotion, you remind yourself vehemently. There is only peace. “Master Krell. With all due respect, we can't just storm in there with no plan. Casualties will rocket if we try something that impulsive. I just don't think—”

“Need I remind you, General Neridian,” Krell interrupts scathingly, “that you are only one week into Knighthood? We may be of equal military rank, but I am a Master, and therefore hold precedence over your commands.”

“This isn’t about me or you,” you hiss, swiveling to face Krell as your patience is finally pulled taut. Ignoring the shocked stares you know the troopers have fixed on you, you cross your arms. “It’s about this campaign. It's about our mission, and it's bigger than us. So I suggest we agree to disagree, and carry on with General Skywalker’s plan—”

Krell clicks his tongue. “Losing your temper already?" He asks, and you could swear he's taunting you, waiting to see when you'll do something mortifying like raise your voice (but then again, he's done it several times already and it's only been a day). "How unfortunate. Perhaps the Council should not have been so adamant that you face the Trials so early."

You blink and take a step back. He's right, and you know it. You're one of the youngest Padawans to face the Trials in generations, as are all your peers, thrust into a rushed end to your training at the beginning of the war. So many of your friends—Darra, Galene, Ferus, and of course, Anakin, the most tenacious of them all—seem to have risen to this unique challenge with their heads held high. But all you can seem to do is flinch away from the ugly parts, the parts that remind you of just how unprepared you are for these new and daunting responsibilities.

Unclenching your fists, you swallow the bile in your throat and try to stop your hands from trembling. “The Council,” you say, voice tight, "made their choice. And so must I make mine." You turn to Rex, who's standing just behind you and gripping his helmet with both hands. “Captain—prepare the troops. We’re going with General Skywalker’s plan.”

“I…” Rex’s knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s clutching his helmet, and he looks strangely helpless. “I’m sorry, General, but—the regs state that General Krell outranks you due to his status as a Jedi Master.” He presses his lips together and averts his gaze from yours, cheeks red with what you know is anger. “I’m afraid that General Krell’s orders do indeed… take precedence over yours.”

Beside you, Krell looks more satisfied than you’ve ever seen him. The Besalisk turns to the battalion and crosses his upper set of arms over his chest.

“Troopers!” he barks, and the soldiers stand at attention simultaneously. “Prepare to move out!” He presses a button on his wrist comm, and a holomap flickers to life. “You will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back, regardless of the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops—not some sneak attack with a few men.”

You close your eyes and clasp your hands behind your back. There is no emotion, there is peace.

It feels less like a mantra and more like a meaningless, empty chant. Peace, you think despairingly, looks to be farther than ever.

"Sir." Rex clears his throat, making you look up to see him watching Krell like one might survey a blown fuse at risk of setting fire to a building. "Sir, General Neridian is right. This is practically a suicide mission. I don't think—"

“What you think, Captain, is irrelevent. You have my orders, and you will follow them explicitly,” Krell growls, then leans forward, turning to the Captain. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Your eyes widen in shock and you glare at Krell, crossing your own arms over your chest to mimic Krell’s stance. “It’s Rex, General,” you snap. “Captain Rex. That’s how he introduced himself, if you've forgotten?”

Many troopers turn to you, and you can tell—even under their helmets—that they’re clearly surprised at your derisive tone. You ignore them, turn on your heel, and storm away, but not before you hear Rex mutter, “Crystal, General Krell.”

The path is lit with some form of concentrated bioluminescent light, making it easier for you to see where you’re going. The clones have the advantage of night vision built into their visors, which makes it hard not to envy them. That alone, that feeling so unbecoming of a Jedi is enough to make you feel a sting of shame, not unlike the feeling that so often came with a scolding from Master Venn when you were still a Padawan.

You wonder for the millionth time if you’ve been forced into Knighthood too soon. Of course, there is nothing to do about that now—every war needs warrior, after all—just like there was nothing you could do when Master Venn told you the news just one week years ago.

She was grim when she told you, and your stomach goes cold with the memory of how she delivered the news, like she was handing you your own death sentence. Now, you know why.

And some have greatness thrust upon them, you think bitterly, remembering how often Master Venn made you read ancient poetry as a Padawan, the kind so old it's still stored on dusty books instead of firmware.

“General.”

You turn to find that Rex has fallen into step with you and smile. “Captain,” you acknowledge. “Forgive me. I was just…” you clear your throat. “Lost in thought.”

Rex—now wearing his helmet—nods and turns his gaze to the path ahead. “Thinking about the plan?”

“No,” you admit sheepishly. “Just about—” you gesture vaguely to your surroundings “—all of this. This war, this strife.” Shaking your head, you fidget with the one of the lightsaber hooks on your belt, clasping and unclasping it. “How fast I've been thrown in, and whether or not it’s necessary.”

“Hm.” You can hear the frown in Rex’s voice. “If it’s any consolation, we clones have mixed feelings about the war, too.”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him. “How so?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug and turns his head away. “Just that… well, I’d rather do without all the lives lost, but... without it, we wouldn’t exist, would we?”

Frowning, you consider this. “I suppose you’re right,” you concede. “But it is the will of the Force that you came to be. And,” you add, shooting Rex a sly smile, “the galaxy would be very different if you hadn’t, hm?”

There’s a moment of silence, during which you get the feeling that the troopers behind you are listening to your conversation. Rex seems lost for words, until he clears his throat. “Me specifically, sir?” You nod, and Rex adjusts his helmet. “I—I don’t know. I’m just one man, aren’t I?”

“That may be so, Captain, but you’ve made more of a difference than you think,” you inform him. “I think I’m correct in assuming that you’ve saved General Skywalker’s arse more times than he alone can count.”

Behind you, someone lets out a surprised laugh, then tries to cover it up as a cough. You smile at Rex and continue.

“And even without that, you’re responsible for many of the Republic’s victories in this war.” You shake your head. “The smallest insect feeding off of a single flower’s nectar has an impact on the entire garden. In the Force, we are all an entire world, a whole galaxy. Never assume that you do not make a difference.”

You feel a ripple of shock, gratitude, and something else—something you can’t quite place—flow through the Force. It’s a refreshing change from the tension and stress of the mission, and you’re just about to open your mouth to thank Rex when—

A white-hot warning flashes in the Force, and there’s a split-second warning as you scan your surroundings for the threat. Then—

“Get back!” you shout, and the troopers in your immediate vicinity immediately scramble off of the path.

They’re just in time—the sheer force of the explosion is enough to knock you off your feet and send you flying backwards. You land on something hard and feel all of the air get knocked out of you.

“Mines!” someone shouts. “Nobody on the path move!”

You freeze as you realize that the surface you landed on is, in fact, Rex—specifically, his armour. Your back is pressed to his chest plate, and you can feel his nervousness as though it is your own, but neither of you move for fear of setting off another mine.

Your cheeks burn when Rex finally leans forward, void of his helmet—it must have been knocked off it the blast. He's close enough to your ear to whisper, “Left. Slowly.”

It sends chills down your spine, but you shake them off. Drawing in a deep breath, you oblige, easing left and onto your knees, so you’re kneeling beside a disoriented-looking Rex. He looks shaken, but quickly gathers himself and cautiously stands up as he scans the area for his helmet.

“Oz is down,” you hear one of the medics say grimly. “So is Ringo.”

Rex spares you one last glance before swooping down to pick up his helmet, brushing the dirt off the visor. He moves to inspect the dead troopers. “Can you sweep ‘em?”

For a long moment, there’s silence as the medics gently move the bodies aside—you respectfully avert your eyes, feeling the sting of grief from the other troopers—and set them down on the side of the path. You hear Kix declare happily that there are no injured despite the two casualties and smile to yourself.

There’s no time to bury the dead troopers, so you settle for approaching Rex and placing a hand on his tense shoulder, over his pauldron with fading and scratched blue paint. “Nu kyr'adyc,” you murmur. “Shi taab'echaaj'la."

Not gone, merely marching far away.

Rex turns his head, and this close, you can see his wide eyes through the visor of his helmet. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then raises his hand and places it over yours. It lasts for a split-second; the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, talking quietly to Fives and Kix.

“Come on, men,” you call to the rest of the battalion. “We need to—”

Chills fly up your spine and you stiffen, just as a loud, shrieking sound engulfs the path and—BOOM! More troopers go flying into the air. There are shouts of Basic, Mando’a, and Umbaran, and the firefight begins, during which you realize—

An ambush. You draw one lightsaber to deflect an oncoming barrage of blasterfire, but it's not enough, and there's no cover afforded to the terrain.

“Shit," you mutter under your breath as you switch on your shoto saber, calling on your knowledge of Jar'Kai to deflect the bolts with both blades. You raise your voice and call over your shoulder. "We’re fully exposed! Retreat to the forest!”

“We can’t, General!” shouts a voice, and you turn to see a blue-painted helmet accented with a small red arrow: Fives. “They’re coming from all directions—” he grunts and fires another blast “—we don’t have any cover!”

You feel your blood run cold. There’s no way for you to retreat—and it’s all Krell’s fault.

“We need them to follow us!” Rex answers, standing with his back to yours as he fires his blasters rapidly. “If we can draw them out, we can see them—and if we can see them, we can hit them!”

“Good idea,” you breathe, even though you know it’s too loud for Rex to hear you. Raising your voice, you lift one lightsaber so the other troopers can see the path. “All squads, pull back now!” You close your eyes for a moment to call on the Force, then propel yourself upwards and leap through the air so you’re at the back of the group. “I’ll take the rear! Cover me—sword and shield maneuver!”

The troopers obey, and soon you find yourself at the center of a tight semicircle formed by clones, all firing mercilessly on the Umbaran soldiers. You bite your lip and shift to Soresu to parallel the blasterfire more easily, deflecting the barrage as quickly and efficiently as you possibly can.

Just behind you is an AT-RT walker, defending your flank. Beside you is a trooper with intricately painted markings on his helmet, firing a rotary cannon and shouting, “Ha-ha! Where you goin’? Get back here, you wimps!”

You grin at his sheer audacity. “Careful there, trooper,” you admonish playfully, deflecting another blaster shot.

“They’re falling back!” Fives shouts, then, and you can hear the smile in his voice. The troopers all holster their blasters while you hook your lightsaber onto your belt.

“CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” You turn around and raise your eyebrows as Krell approaches Rex, looking furious. “You’ve pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!”

You feel your hands start to shake. “Master Krell,” you say, trying your best to remain calm, “I gave the order to pull back, not Rex. We were completely surrounded and couldn’t risk losing any more men.”

Krell, looking furious at worst and disgruntled at best, saying nothng. Seizing the opportunity to walk away, you turn on your heel and breathe through the anger, urging yourself to keep going, trying to find a quiet place to rest and meditate for just a few minutes.

And you do. Closing your eyes, you lean against the firm trunk of a glowing tree, wiping sweat from your brow. It’s quiet, and you can hear the steady chirping of crickets (or something else) in the phosphorescent grass.

“General Krell,” says a trooper’s voice. It’s more firmthan Rex’s—Fives, you're pretty sure. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.”

Blinking in surprise, you start to return to the group, wondering if this is an argument you’ll be able to break up—but the hum of a lightsaber being drawn makes you stop in your tracks.

“ARC-5555,” Krell growls. “Stand down.”

You feel your mouth go dry and approach the other troopers. Krell is standing with his back to you, but you can clearly see the green blade of his lightsaber from where you stand, hovering next to Fives's neck. If only Esya could see this, you think, horrified.

Don’t make any sudden moves, your Master’s teachings remind you. He could strike, and then you’d be responsible for the death of yet another man.

Just after the tense conversation between Fives and Krell, the Umbarans returned, sparking yet another firefight—this one with more casualties than the last. You were forced to retreat with the platoons, exhausted and spent.

Now, you sit on the ground, leaning against a fallen tree trunk in a brief moment of rest while the troopers drive away a small squad of Umbarans. In your hand is a pocket holotransmitter, refracting a cluster of blue light in the form of Esya Venn.

“I feel your discomfort from here, young one,” the older Theelin Master is saying, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

“Impossible,” you scoff. “You’re all the way on Coruscant, there’s no way.” There’s a moment of silence, during which the hologram flickers. You add, “And I’m not so young anymore, you know.”

Esya smiles wanly—you notice the shadows under her normally bright eyes with a pang of sadness—and shakes her head, her long colorful hair swishing lightly.

“You're still young to me,” she says softly, gently. "And you're avoiding the subject."

“I’m fine, Master,” you sigh. “Really.”

"You must not know me as well as I thought," Esya replies primly, a hint of a smile showing through her stern expression, "if you think you can lie to me like that."

You sigh again, frowning down at the flickering hologram. "It's just..." you shake your head, staring off into the foggy distance. "I'm concerned about Master Krell's tactics. They're aggressive, nothing like what you taught me of strategy, and they don't take into account the fact that we need to strive for as little casualties as possible—on both sides."

"Hm." Esya crosses her arms. "I have heard of Master Krell's... unconventional style. Is there anything else that concerns you about him?"

"I mean—everything, really," you admit, lowering your voice. "He has a blatant disregard for life that I haven't seen in a Jedi in, well... ever. He refers to the clones by their birth numbers, not their names, and he sees the native fauna as just—objects. Nuisances." You place the holotransmitter on the ground in front of you and shift your sitting position. "I fear that, to him, no life is sacred."

"If that were the case, I do not think the Council would have granted him the rank of Master," Esya says, but she looks thoughtful, like there's something she isn't saying. "Who is the commanding officer?"

"His name is Captain Rex," you say. "He's Anakin's first-in-command. I think he's just as worried by Master Krell as I am, and..." you trail off, unsure how to voice your next thought.

"What is it?" Esya prompts, light eyebrows raised.

"There's something about him—about Rex," you say finally, reluctant. "It's like the Force is trying to tell me something. That—that he's important. But I can't figure out why." You huff, fighting back a frustrated scowl. "I wish the Force would just tell me. But the answer is so—so elusive."

"As is everything since the start of this war," Esya replies, shaking her thorned head. She fixes you with a fond expression. "But, Padawan... you must remember that the Force is not your enemy, but your ally. If you open your eyes, it will show you the way."

"Yes," you murmur, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. The sounds of talking from the group's position behind you make you frown. "I have to go. May the Force be with you, Master."

“And with you. Always,” Esya replies before cutting off the connection seconds later.

You stand, tucking the transmitter into your pocket, then make for the rest of the group and move to stand beside Captain Rex. He's observing General Krell talk to General Kenobi via comlink.

“The capital city’s too fortified,” General Kenobi is saying grimly. “We still need your battalion to help us take it.”

“Resistance from the Umbarans has been greater than anticipated,” Krell replies. “We’re holding our ground at the moment.”

You swallow, averting your gaze to your boots. Holding our ground… what does Krell think is happening? Surely he hasn’t failed to notice the heavy casualties your battalion is sustaining.

“We’ve gathered intel on an airbase to the west,” General Kenobi replies. “It is resupplying the capital’s defenses.”

Taking a step forward, you cross your arms over your chest. “Should we attempt to take control of the airbase, then?”

Turning to you, General Kenobi nods. “Yes,” he answers. “Doing so will sever the capital’s supply lines, allowing the rest of our forces to move in.”

“I’ll see to it that the airbase is placed under our control,” Krell says decisively. It sends a wave of nausea through your stomach.

“Remember, Master Krell; Knight Neridian,” Kenobi says, mouth pulling into a tight frown, “The entire invasion depends on your battalion.”

Krell nods and severs the connection, then turns to you. “Neridian, have those coordinates mapped when you’re finished here, and make sure all troops are ready to move out immediately.” He walks away, leaving you alone with Captain Rex.

You watch Krell retreat with a feeling of incessant dread. “Right, then,” you say to Rex. “What do you say the odds are that we finish this thing his way?”

“Good question, General,” Rex says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he watches the Umbaran sky darken with more eerie purple clouds. "I guess there's only one way to find out."

NEXT CHAPTER >

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[oceansssblue]

Hello, I hope that you are having an amazing day. If requests are still open, I have a funny Star Wars prompt/or/oneshot if you want. You know how in Top Gun, after Maverick flirts with a lady at a bar, only to find out the next day that she is his superior officer. What about a similar situation in the Clone Wars era, in which one of the members of the Bad Batch, or one of the 501st like Fives, flirts with a female Jedi reader (who's probably in her early twenties) at the 79s, not knowing that she is a Jedi General. Only to find out the next day that she is the Jedi General assigned to them for their next mission.

Her appearance in the bar makes her look nothing like a Jedi. She just looks like a civilian until she is in her jedi robes the next day. She doesn't deliberately deceive them or anything. She just wanted to unwind after an undercover mission. She just didn't think bringing up that she is a Jedi was important, she assumed they already knew. The only hint she gave on their "date" night was a happy and playful "see you tomorrow" as they part ways to get to their respective homes/barracks. She is happy to see them the next day.

Cool fun little oneshot! Decided to go with Crosshair, seems more like his thing.

Hope you like it!

Xx,

Sky.

"SEE YOU TOMORROW"

CROSSHAIR/F REDADER 📩💖

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, FLIRTING&TEASING.

Your muscles still ache after a two year undercover mision in Alcaz. Spending long hours of running and hiding in the capital will do that to anyone; even a Jedi. Your first mision with the Order started years ago; even if you're still young right now. Everyone starts early these days; you went from youngling to padawan and Jedi Knight in just a blink of an eye. The war makes you feel older than what you really are.

It's weird being back in Coruscant. Back in a normal setting were you don't need to constantly be aware of your surroundings –even if it's instinctual, now–; where you're not constantly in danger. Entering 79's, your eyes quickly flickering over the crowd of tipsy clones and the dance floor, a tiny smile makes it up to your face. You feel inmediately relieved, somehow. You don't need to pretend here. You don't need to be a soldier, a Jedi Knight, a General. You don't have responsabilities and lifes dangling from your shoulders. Here, right now, you can just be you, a simple girl in her twenty-two's.

Happy smile still in your face, you make your way towards the bar. You order a sweet drink light on the alcohol side to start with; turning around and taking small sips while you scan the bar distractedly. There's a few eyes on you already. Not because you're necesarily pretty –though you believe yourself to look alright–; but simply necause you're one of the few natives around here, and more so a woman. Clones will always be ever the gentleman, it's ingrained in their discipline, their sense of honor; but they're still men, real humans, and they have urges like everyone else. Like Jedis do, too, no matter what many people think.

You're not really in the mood for sex, though. You're too tired for that; your plan is to spend a few hours drinking and chatting and then return to the Temple. You've got a meeting tomorrow, and you should make sure you get your well deserved, comfortable sleep. You're almost drooling thinking of a bed already, but you'd like to unwind a bit first; even though your body is tired, you feel your mind too active to surrender to dreamland yet. Plus, you need to disconect from your previous mision and adapt to your new situation; to the new changes.

A few troopers that you had the chance to meet before starting your jump around the galaxy to serve to the Jedi and the Republic recognises you, and you quickly find yourself chatting amicably in a booth with them. They're kind, and perfectly respectful; they speak to you as if you were a normal person, though –not a general, not a Jedi–, and you soon fall into a relaxed posture and a lazy smile. None of you speak about war, about their fears and worries; but of hopes and desires, jokes and secret lovers that await for them patiently all over Coruscant. Some look flustered after realising they've confessed such things in front of you; but you just shake your head and smile. You're glad they're finding some happiness wherever they can.

On your third drink in –and probably the last one, judging by your flushed cheeks and the low hum of carefree excitement & arousal spreading inside of you– you feel another stare on you. It's heavy, it's intent so clear it's almost screaming at you; and you listen to your Jedi instincts, eyes slowly flickering around the bar to find it's owner.

You come up with a pair of dark brown eyes. They're the exact same shade of most of the clones in the GAR; and yet, it's stare so much more intense. It could almost cut through you and hit someone on the other side.

You study him curiously in the same way he has been observing you before. Even sitting down in a booth with some other soldiers, you can tell he's taller than most; the shape of his body and muscles long and thin, agile, though still strong. It's impossible not to notice the tattoo around his right eye; it fits him well, really. What surprises you most about him –besides his stare– is his hair, though; a mix of greys so pretty it almost shines under the lights of the 79's.

He's still dressed up on armour, like a lot of other soldiers on the bar. His is black and grey with a few stripes of dark red; a white skull with a "99" underneath it on his right pauldron. It's right then and there when you understand who he is, who they are; and your eyes twinkle in amusement, your smile widening. This is Clone Force 99, the squad that will be under your command. The Council told you they were different, that they had special abilities very useful for battles; but they fail to mention you they were literally, physically different as well.

You understand... Crosshair's –he must be– cautious and curious study then; he might be wanting to find out who exactly their new General is, and how does she behave when she's not on duty like everyone else.

You shoot him a grin and Crosshair's neutral, almost uniterested face turns into a smirk. He arches an eyebrow, and makes a gesture with his head; a welcome for you to join them in their table. You nod and say your goodbyes to the troopers; smiling and shooting one or two more playful comments before making your way across the room, walking confidently to this squad of extraordinary men.

"Hey there, boys" you greet them, deciding for informality in order to not spoil their night of fun from the start. "Care if I join?"

There's various reactions around the table. Crosshair looks amused. Echo and Tech are purely surprised –the later one quickly scanning you almost as if trying to find information about you with just his eyes–; while Hunter looks hesitant. Wrecker is openly excited and happy.

"Yeah, take a sit!" He pushes his brothers to one side, making room for you in the circular booth their sitting in, ignoring the other's quiet, pained grunts.

They all look a little tipsy too.

You chuckle and take the offer, letting down your drink on top of the table and sitting besides Wrecker. Crosshair arches his eyebrow again, still finding amusing how you seem confident enough in a table –a bar– surrounded by men. He likes confidence in a woman, but such levels are a bit more rare.

"Comfortable?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth, almost a lazy drawl, and you grin back at him.

"Very" you answer, emphasising your answer by taking a long sip of your alcohol and laying lazily against the booths backrest.

After holding his stare for a few seconds, you turn your attention back to the rest of the group; scanning them curiously. They do de same with you.

"So, didn't have time to do a change of clothes?" You point out. "Did you come back from a mission today, or is this just an night outfit choice?"

Wrecker laughs, will Echo and Hunter show a tiny smile. Tech is completely serious still, lost in his thoughts without tearing his eyes from you. Crosshair also stares at you.

"We came back from a mission a pair of hours ago, yeah" Hunter finally answers, relaxing slowly. "Thought we should enjoy a bit of freedom before getting back to work tomorrow".

His voice is deep as well; a bit more soft yet raspy.

"Ah" you answer, smiling guiltily. "Got it. Well, I'm not going to cut out your fun, no worries. Feel free to drink and chat as much as you like. Also... This is still a good fit. Beautiful armour, guys".

This time Tech blushes, Echo clears his throat in silence and Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair, all smile widely. Ah, yes, you forgot; armours are precious to all Mandalorians, including clones, and you could have very well call them...

"So you think we're hot? That it?" Crosshair drawls, eyes interested.

You laugh shrugging your shoulders. Yeah, well, you might be a little too tipsy. This is definitely your last drink if you want to keep things professional. Force knows if you weren't a Jedi and this weren't your men you'd have had already tried to take one of them home. Huh, it seems you're not as tired as you thought.

"Pretty" you correct him, if only to mock him a bit and play with him.

Crosshair's stare darkens and you can feel his arousal and want calling you through the Force.

You smile down playing with the rim of your glass distractedly, and feeling a sudden wave of shyness. Alcohol is a dangerous thing.

The thought makes you giggle a bit.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The night goes on, and you switch to a non-alcohol drink as promised to yourself. The conversation turns normal and more easy as the clock ticks by; all of them being very interesting, fun people to chat with. Crosshair and Echo are more reserved than the rest; different types of quiet observing and thoughtfullness. You suspect the second one isn't as comfortable with your presence as the rest –while you have no doubt that that wouldn't suppose a problem in battlefield, you know he's an excellent soldier–; while Crosshair... Crosshair's intentions are still quite clear.

He's bold, you have to say. Most troopers wouldn't want to risk being reported for misconduct even if they know most Jedis would just gently shut their intentions down if it were the case. Clones usually don't want to risk it; though it's evident that Crosshair doesn't think you will or plainly, doesn't care.

It doesn't bother you. He's attractive, and it feels good to be desired; you're a Jedi, but you're also just twenty-two, and you can't help it yourself. Still, you're nothing but polite to him, if only a bit of playfullness here and there. You're not going to go to bed with him, not before your oficial meeting; not while you can still resist.

You sigh with a smile.

"Well, boys, it has been a pleasure" you start, standing up and patting Wrecker's shoulder besides you. "But I think I'm gonna go and try to shut an eye. Have your fun without me, see you tomorrow!"

Tech eyes widen slightly, observing your retreating figure while Crosshair makes a move to follow you out of 79's.

Tech grabs his brother's shoulder and pulls him back down, ignoring Crosshair's almost snarl.

"She expressed her desire to go to sleep, Crosshair. Let her be" he opted to say, still not 100% sure of his theory before proving it with a quick search on his datapad.

Crosshair sighed and gulped down the remaining of his drink.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

No matter that the Batch had left 79's pretty late in the night, they were all rised and prepared to meet their new General at 0600 puntually. Their faces carried nag under their eyes and various degrees of tiredness; but they weren't being shipped anywhere, so there was no real problem with that. It was just a formal meeting so they could put a face to the name and greet each other; then they'll be left alone to enjoy the rest of their shore-leave day.

"I hope she's nice!" commented Wrecker while they waited up in a line in front of the Marauder.

Hunter hummed.

"I just hope she lets us do our thing" he muttered, clearly not very happy about the new placement.

None of them were particularly enthusiastic; they had never had a personal Jedi General before, and it would be a big change for everyone involved.

"I am confident she will" answered Tech, perhaps the only one holding positive thoughts about it. "I have thoroughly researched our General in the early hours of the morning and she has an impressive record on undercover missions and other side tasks. It seems she is usually sent on unusual requests as well, just like us. In adition, she is fairly easy going. I am positive we would all be able to adapt to each other well".

Right when Wrecker was going to ask with a deep frown etched on his face how did he know she was as "easy-going" as Tech affirmed, a female figure crossed the doors of the hangar walking towards them with wide confident steps.

Wrecker's, Echo's and Hunter's faces stared back in shock; while Tech nodded firmly as if he were explaining something to them, and Crosshair followed the young Jedi's movement full of intrigue and a masked surprise.

"Morning, troopers!" She greeted them, still a few meters away from them.

Her smile was radiant in the greyness of the hangar bay.

Crosshair leaned towards the smartest of his brothers, subtle.

"Punishment for fucking your Jedi General?" he asked in a distracted whispered, eyes never leaving the woman aproaching them.

Tech answered completely unbothered by his antics; posture firm.

"From an informal reprimand to proper decomissioning".

Crosshair smirked.

"I'll risk it".

He arched an eyebrow in amused defiance when she looked straight at him.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taraaa! Here it is love, hope you like it! It was a little fun cheeky thing to write :)

Not checked after finishing writing it cause I have exam tomorrow and still got a few finals left, but I hope I didn't make a lot of mistakes!

Only two more requests left before I jump onto another tbb Mermaid fic. Don't worry, yall, I will reopen requests the future, just let me survive my exams first ;)

Stay tunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to masterlist here:

#tbb crosshair #crosshair x oc #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #cross #star wars #clones #fanfic #tbb #clone wars #fics #hunter tbb #tech tbb #echo tbb #wrecker tbb #clone force 99 #cf99 #79's #one shot #oneshot #jedi reader #jedi general #female reader #crosshair x you #crosshair x y/n #flirting #drinks #fluff #teasing

[arctrooper69]

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

--------------------------------------------------

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#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #clone wars #swtcw #sw tbb #sw tcw #commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #tcw wolffe x you #tcw wolffe x reader #tcw wolffe #tcw wolfpack #104th battalion #jedi general plo koon #plo koon #commander wolffe #battalion commander wolffe #tcw marshal commander cody #captain rex #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb omega #clone commander wolffe

[dukeoftheblackstar]

"Right Here"

Summary: It’s ‘one of those days’ when the things are just too much. Sometimes all you need is an old man and their old man-foolishness. - Depression strikes and you're at the medcenter.

Pairing: Plo Koon x Duchess/Duch (oc/reader), Plo Koon x Reader

Word Count: 4.2 K

Rating/Theme: Angst, comfort, tw-suicide, gaslighting, innuendos, tw-depression, pre-established relations, flirting, slight choking, barely smutty

Notes:

“Right Here”— Second installment of Somewhere Only We Know

The song Plo sings for oc/reader are official lyrics from from @mimimirage / @eloquentmoon's "Planet Pink" [ permission to use granted via discord DM ]

1st pic = art by my very best friend and sister at heart, @amorfista [ please do not repost ]

2nd pic = commissioned art from a local artist [ personally owned / please do not repost ]

Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: You/OC/Reader Blue: Internal thoughts Purple: Self-Inserts

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

You do so much day in day out that it has become a wonder if you exist only to appease the fury and bitterness that resides in the damned. A conundrum of a cycle wherein you have no qualms in allowing anyone of your borrowed time and yet it seems to be quite burdensome to rob others of theirs, regardless of how deep you have plunged into the great seas of woe. A quandary that leaves you doubtful if you even deserve to feel such sadness and allow it to consume you when you should be keeping your heart empty to nurse and rid others of the vicissitudes of fate. An enigma that though should have enticed you to unravel and explore, leaves you abandoned not with want, need, or wanton desires, but abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten, maybe.

But it’s not that bad, right? You get to live, meet people, experience things old and new — and besides, someone out there has it far worse than you. You should be grateful. 

And so you become just that; "Grateful” — in every sense of the word.

You stopped ‘complaining’ because someone else has it far worse than you; stopped trying to ‘talk about it’ because you’re afraid to tell them that even after all the unprompted and unsolicited advice, you remain buried six-feet under the vicious weight of thoughts so intrusive you couldn’t bring yourself to cry it out of your system anymore —in hopes that it depletes you enough to fall asleep. 

That you stopped trying to ‘deal with it’ because it has come to the point that trepidation has now been rooted so deep within the confines of your soul, it hinders you to function. To have fear of having to be seen in such a pathetic, weakened state that even the most mundane tasks remain undone. That the mere fact that you haven’t showered or bathed in days because you were so afraid that if you’re not careful enough, you’d slip and die without having to tell someone how much they mean to you. 

That if you perish, as you begin to feel so deserving of such fate, you would leave them with the same conundrum. That, they, too, would have to suffer these intrusive thoughts because no one came; because they, too, were abandoned as the word itself defined — left alone and all its synonymous narrative; forgotten.

So yet again, you sit not with your knees enclosing your chest in an embrace like in the holovids — rather you’ve taken shelter under the dining table because it felt ‘safe’ there knowing that escape is but a kitchen knife away. Yet again you do not stand before the mirror contemplating on smashing it with your head or your fist, because you couldn’t bear the thought of having someone clean up the mess you’ve made. Yet again you do not frantically tap your fingers on the floor in fear that the neighbors might hear and complain and as such, you will all that you could muster to silence even the slightest of whimpers because you know someone would come and would have to sit through your ‘dramatics’.

And so yes, here you are in all the glory of one being ‘grateful’. 

Here you are under the table of your lavish living room with today’s breakfast at midnight, a pile of unwashed dishes, laundry on the ground, and your commlink buzzing incessantly that seems to stab your fingertips with each attempt of a response. So you just read them, the messages — the funny ones, the sad ones, the work-related ones, the ‘are-you-okay?’ ones, and the ones from your beloved friend and confidant who had constantly dropped by and threatened to break the door down, forcing you to reply ‘I’m not home, I’ll message you the soonest’.

But you are, as we have established. 

You pray to gods your people serve, even to ones you don’t and know not of; eyes closed with fingers knotted over your chest so tight that you could feel the in-between dips of your knuckles burrow further as if ready to break if not bruise. Your lips shake begging through a plethora of ‘please don’t’, ‘go away’, and ‘not today, please’, hoping that this does not turn into some heroic stride of having you swept off your feet and be given the ‘much needed’ respite and attention because today is simply not the day — as it was yesterday and the day before, and the day before the day before yesterday. 

You’ve gone this far, do you honestly wish to disappoint those who believe in you? Do you feel it wise to make them feel bad because their words of comfort and support failed? Do you feel they are deserving of your failure because you could not find it within you to handle even the simplest of things?

Exactly. They deserve better than that. And after all, someone out there has it far worse than you.

Right…?

***

“Is it the gown that’s throwing you off? Cause I can’t cut it up and make it look sexy and we can rolepla—”

You couldn’t even finish because he’s stared you down with such oppressive silence all you could think of was apologize for something you don’t even know you’ve done but whatever it is, it must have been as heinous as to exist in the same timeline as him.

“What?”

“...”

You knew exactly what — he no longer wants you around. He no longer wants to deal with your obstinacy and how you constantly pry him from more pressing matters over something so trivial, so dramatic, so unnecessary.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re gonna be baby about this, Plo.”

“...”

It’s exactly that. He’s supposed to be somewhere; a meeting maybe? A mission? Maybe he’s tired. Tired of you.

“Look. I’m okay. I just… I just have really nosey neighbors, okay? I’m fine. Please.”

“...”

“I’m really, really, really, okay. I promise you.”

“...”

I’m okay, baby. I am. I am now.

“Well?…. Say something.”

“...”

He’s upset, no — he’s angry. He’s… He’s…

And just as you have occasionally been exposed to the oppressive nature of his silence, you turn to him as if matching your assumptious claim of him plagued with seething abhorrence over having to ‘take care of you’ again. Your brows meet in brewing animosity, glaring vehemently at Plo — ironically in contrast to the relaxed creases of your Kel Dor Jedi.

“If you have somewhere to be, just leave. I don’t know why you’re here if you’re just gonna be like that.” You couldn’t pocket an obvious sniffle and so you opted to turn your head away towards the unsuspecting bouquet of flowers of pinks, whites, and yellow chrysanthemums. It did you no better as ragged breath fell past lips that quivered and silver-hazed eyes that threatened to become even more fuddled with tears.

“I get it, okay? They shouldn’t have called even if it was an emergen—.” 

They really shouldn’t have. I’m sorry if they had to call you. I promise I’ll try harder. I’ll be more grateful for what I have. I swear. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.

“But they did.” Came Plo Koon’s abrupt response, devoid of any obviously implied emotion — neither from the tone of his voice or the subtle shift in his masked visage. 

You knew better than to argue. After all, you were no stranger to how ornery he can be, that even his fallen master found him stubborn and difficult — for all the good reasons, that is.

“Sorry.” Was all you could say. 

For having known Plo for centuries, you would have thought that you’d get used to the power he held over you. That even mere words carry so much weight that he could say ‘love’ and wound you so deep to this very day, that him mirroring your candor with so much nectarous affection in the form of endearments ‘little love’ or ‘my darling’ disillusions you from the illusion itself. 

That just by the mere sound of his voice, that unspoken timbre reserved only for your ears and your ears alone, would have you whisked into the grandeur of a fool’s paradise. A quixotic ideal where war can go fuck itself just as Plo can go fuck himself too, but through means of using every inch of your existence leaving nothing to waste. That just by the mere serendipitous touch of his talon-clad fingers paired with his poorly crafted apology for inadvertently wrapping around your neck so deliciously tight, he could easily bring to your knees to do no more than worship him as you would a god to atone for the sins of subjecting those around you in yet another depressive episode.

It gave you a sense of grounding at the very least; a laughable means of coping you’ve developed over time. One that would put his mind at ease to know that in spite of the decline of mirth within your soul, you still had some reserve to keep yourself from the point of no return — even if it meant you were doing it for others, not so much yourself. 

You turn to face the still-standing Kel Dor whose hands remained tucked behind. Expressionless was better than him pacing frantically and mouthing off a full-on lecture. Though part of you expected to use this to his advantage; to go over how your last visit went and the lingering feeling of having professed indirectly required confrontation — then again, it wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you indulged in a very elusive discourse about matters of the heart. But at least you got to say it again, right? I mean not hearing it back is nothing new.

You hear him sigh, whether it was relief or frustration it hardly mattered. He was gonna chew you off you and you knew it. He’s probably at his wit’s end having to come to your rescue for what, the third time now in a month? You’ve already quit bounty hunting because Plo pulled the ‘I would rather you indulge my father in managing the hatchery in Dorin’ card. I mean who wouldn’t? You get to spend time with Dorin’s most charming Kel Dor, who has been quite-like a father to you with little knowledge that he’s about to become your father-in-law if Plo would just stop being a Jedi Master for a hot minute. That, and the fact that you get to help Dorin rebuild their population through the hatchery — not your more preferred method of helping since you’re pretty set on the fact that Plo is quite virile. 

Even wishful thinking of him has deterred you from your further decline even for the fleeting moment of his visit. As for how long it’ll last, the daunting possibility of how grave the next ‘episode’ would be, looms about.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” It was more of a statement than an inquiry. You knew he was upset just from the fact that he hadn't approached you yet or had spoken much. Not many knew how chatty Plo Koon can be or how mischievous or playful he truly is behind the ever well-behaved aristocratic demeanor. You lowered your as your teeth sank to the bottom of your lip apologetically as you continued. “I understand if you are. I’d be mad at me too.”

“Good. Then we can move forward.” Plo Koon replies, true to his no-attachment Jedi teachings that infuriated you more than anything. And he knew; he knew how to drive you so far up the wall, you sometimes wish he just would — drive you up the wall and impale you on some 13-inch goodness of Kel Dor dic— “Oof!” 

“Plo, what the fu—.!”

Plo Koon had very uncharacteristically whacked you with a miniature version of himself in the form of a plushie. Yes, your beloved three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor childhood friend who makes you feel things that the Order would frown upon, has brought you the greatest gift that he could and could not give — himself.

“Oh, you are clever. Clever, clever, clever.” 

And just like that, he had completely flipped your mood in ways you had not anticipated. The ever-wise, patient, kind, and doting Jedi Master had struck again. He didn’t need to say anything to convey his unwavering presence in your life and how he’d continue to be there in ways you’d need him; be it an amicable  sense of support and an ear to ramble onto or the carnal sense of allowing you to peruse his entire existence in smutty stories in your head as long as they’d keep you occupied to leave no room for thoughts that he believed shouldn’t be there. He knew — knew you like the back of his own hand. 

“Though I must say I did not have the heart to have that made anatomically correct.”

With a dramatic and proud pause, Plo makes his way to sit beside you, pushing you quite forcefully to give him room on the bed. Leaning to rest his back against the same pile of fluffed pillows as his arm wandered around your waist, he made himself further comfortable by crossing his boots beside yours at the edge. A subtle clear of the throat had you leaning your temple onto his shoulder, chuckling amused as he continued his seemingly required narrative.

“I’m sure you’re quite aware of how it would be highly inappropriate to make it so.”

He made a gesture to measure the length of the Plo-plushie’s leg, extending quite a leap past it as if you didn’t know how impeccably well-endowed he is that you need a visual. “Then again, I get the feeling this little one will be subjected to being defiled in the most… intimate of ways with or without… a certain appendage.”

“Plo, you prude, old man. Just say it. Say ‘cock’. Say ‘cock’ right now and I swear on all things encompassing our centuries-old friendship I will cease all attempts of killing myself.”

Plo had never seen such sternness and determination in your eyes that you actually had him caught off-guard for once. Torn between addressing your suicidal thoughts and the fact that the proposed resolution is so ludicrous that he was actually considering it knowing how you operate. You’ve had this chase of making him purposely say filth as it gives you delight beyond comprehension to have the dignified and highly revered Jedi Master General succumb to such sinful treats. Not that he was above such things, but they weren’t exactly preferred in his vocabulary. 

“These… thoughts, my dear. Are they frequent?” It was enough to melt your heart among all the things Plo Koon. You’ve loved him for so long you’d let him stab you in the gut for fun — not that he’d do it, of course. Genuine concern etched over the creases of his face and the tenderness of his free hand caressing the back of yours that held the adorable toy. “Has something happe—.”

“Plo, I swear. Just say co—”

“Duche—”

“Plo.”

“Duch.”

“Just say—”

“Little love, please let’s tal—”

“Ep! Ep! Ep! We don’t say things like that in public.”

“Yes, we surely do not say things like that in public.”

The impasse called for silence. Lucky you, you had a little Plo-plushie to play with. You folded the plushie’s arms to cross over his chest, holding it down with one hand while the other pressed down over its forehead making it look disgruntled. “There we go. Now there’s two of you.”

“Indeed.” Plo Koon replies, taking the hint of your uneasiness and unwillingness to divulge the woes of your existence just yet. “Though I do not as such, little love.” He adds, reaching to adjust the split-legged plushie, into a more self-respecting fashion.

“You do not sit like that!” You replied incredulously. “Not with your —”

“But I do, my sweet. I do not, as you young ones call ‘mansplain’ in spite of being well endowed with a very large cock…—alorum behavior, which by the way is very much unlike me. I am but a humble Jedi with humble needs.”

The excitement in your eyes bloomed with laughter, shaking your head with a well-deserved slow-clap offered to the improper-elusive Kel Dor Jedi Master. He joins in the chorus of your blissful giggle with a hearty rumble of his own and a playfully pompous nod of acknowledgement of yet again another triumph. 

“By the stars, I love you.” You sigh, dreamily as you feel the light creep through the darkened veins of your soul — truly a Jedi’s work at play. “I just… I love you. I love you so much I can’t.. I can’t….”

But as quick as the light bore once more into the shadowy depths of depression, you began fanning yourself in an attempt to suppress an outpour. Your eyes welled up and you began gasping for air as you tried your very best to stifle the whimper than turned to disheartened groans of pain, until you had begun to cry so profusely, your body shook in a mix of incoherent emotions.

You mumbled in between tearful pleas of asking Plo to make “it” stop, to do something because it wasn’t what you wanted right now. You threw in painful lines in jest, innuendos and petty attempt to restart the banter, self-deprecating jokes and nostalgic references etched like core memories between the two of you in your younger years— the last thing you wanted was for your time with Plo to end on a bitter note knowing he’d have to leave soon. 

He held you tighter than what your knitted frames would allow, a little more and he’d have crushed you and as much  you knew within yourself you wanted nothing more than to be turned to dust by a certain Kel Dor’s embrace, your tears seem to be the undisputed victor. 

You felt the weight of his head over your crown, the scent of him filling your senses as you head your drenched face onto the side of his neck while your arms latched onto the toy, squeezing it in your own embrace. You wanted it so badly to be him, but you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to bestow him guilt of being limited in the gesture as to comply with the teachings of the Order. You wouldn’t dare put him in that predicament. And so you held the toy version of him imperviously close to you as if suffocating the poor little thing.

And then it happened. 

“I know it baby, i’ll be a star And then you’ll be all mine And they won’t be able to take you from me”

You have been a fan of Mimi Mirage for as long as you can remember. The day you saw a poster of her at a record shop, you were so drawn that you purchased all four of her albums and had it on repeat that at some point, you were sure Plo Koon fancied a song or two from one of the most played albums when he’d come over. He’d also taken upon this interest of yours to spoil you Mimi Mirage merch, using his connections to procure signed copies. Plo had also made it a point to frame them because it’ll wear less if unexposed — all for your benefit, of course.

“I’m gonna make this planet pink I don’t care what they think I’m gonna make this planet pink”

You started to laugh in between a now fully-developed hiccup from all the crying and hyperventilating. You sniffled, whimpered, giggled, and even sorted a little at how off-key and weird it sounded being sung by your beloved Kel Dor friend. He continued, straining to get the key right and endure the missing words with hums and guesses that had you laughing as your face remained nuzzled on the side of his neck.

“You’ll be mine”

He mouthed the words slower over the specified lyric, the spurs of his clawed hand drawing idle patterns over the small of your back while the other purchased your cheek with a thumb strumming sweetly over the corner of your lip. 

“I’ll take the risk”

You turned to receive a rather affectionate gaze, his thumb in a continuous stroke over the fullness of your lips from corner to corner. The weight of him heavy over your own forehead; turning, tossing, seeking that perfect angle for you to feel the contrast of the cold, stannic mask and warmth of the little exposed skin on his face. You could feel the protective lenses over his eyes push against the bone of your brow until he found that perfect spot to nest half of his face onto half of yours. 

Your lips curve into a smile, then parted to utter more serene titter as you hear that luxuriously rare, short, single-syllabled chuckle of his that made you just wanna bear ninety-nine of his babies. But unfortunately, this little space-face-press shenanigans would pardon him from depriving her auditory needs to hear more of Mimi Mirage’s Planet Pink butchered by an esteemed member of the council, General of the 104th Battalion, and Jedi Master of great tenure and importance.

“Sing, old man.”

You whined with a pout — to which you then blushed from Plo Koon’s response of pushing the tip of his thumb between your parted mouth to shut you up. After all, you asked him to sing and you best listen. With a sigh of defeat and amusement in one, he dipped his thumb further enough to feel an earnest tongue brush onto the pad of his digit. 

You hear an evenly rare grunt that had you bite your lip as if to savor the fleeting touch that descended excruciatingly slow down your chin and delicately along the column of your throat.

Flustered beyond recognition, you feel the heat pool between your legs as his tone takes a chasmic turn. Spurs slithered along the expanse of your neck until he had collared his hold around you with a verily gentle and mindful squeeze. The gesture merited an sultry groan of approval and encouragement, accompanied by an elevated hissing sound from your smaller frame.

“Must I say the words, little love?”

You were too intoxicated to respond that all you could was a well-surrendered hum. 

“I….” 

In spite of the nearly losing all inhibition with the faintest of force applied over your neck, you draw your sight back as if to peer through the decorative holes of his protective eye-wear and gaze upon the windows of his soul. Your heart quickened further, anticipation built on the very hill you’ve silently swore to die on for this make or break turn of events. 

Has the day come for him to finally say it? 

You whispered the very words you’ve often given him, the endless ‘I love you’s’ that were often replied with “I knows” and “thank yous”. Days when you’d want to wring his neck or stuff him inside your pocket and whisk him away from the Order — days unlike today where he knew exactly what to say to make it all better. To make all the pain go away and allow herself to redemption to start anew. Today, he said the words… to Mimi Mirage’s Pink Planet in the perfect key and timing.

“I wanna be your dream girl I’m gonna be your dream girl”

Plo distangles himself from you, his hand cupping his antiox mask with a hearty laugh before rubbing his temples and taking a seat on the couch beside the bed. 

Nothing in this world would have made you feel better and would have rid you of the storm that brewed in your apartment for weeks than to hear your favorite three-hundred and eighty-four year-old Kel Dor Jedi utter the words “I wanna be your dream girl, I’m gonna be your dream girl.”

The room was soon an echo of you laughing so hard you wept a little. Then complained that your cheeks stung and that your stomach felt knotted from having to crease up. You’ve also boldly asked him to sing more of it — of which he politely declined, responding of talks of copyright and apprehension in jest.

As you simmer down and the minutes turn to hours of light conversation, you sigh and ready yourself for a nap. It had been such an exhausting week and with sleep finally blessing her with attendance, she turned to his side and momentarily watched him in his meditative state. With a yawn and a kiss to the little one (Plo-plushie), your eyes grow heavy.

Part of you wanted to wake him up and confess what it was that had gotten you down this rabbit hole of misery, paranoia, anxiety, and immense sadness, but you weren’t his burden to  bear. You weren’t anyone’s burden to bear. 

Your eyes finally submit, once more enveloped in darkness as your voice fades to a whisper. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I just don’t know where home is anymore, Plo. I don’t know where you are in my life anymore either. But you don’t have to know that…” 

Unbeknownst to you, Plo knew exactly what the answer was. 

And just as you have drifted to the land of dreams, his hand hovers over yours, light enough to touch but never wake you. 

“Right here.” He says.

“Right here.”

NPT. @saengak @amorfista @eyecandyeoz @kimiheartblade @t3mpest98 @starrrgazingbunny @exosorcery @eloquentmoon @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows @daddycephalopod @quiglettt @mild-disorganization @reader6898 @matookahitaki @ghostperson69 @notthestarwar @sev-on-kamino @sofir-kefir @veny-many @daimyosprincess @pickleprickle @baufraus @bobaprint @storm89 @arcsimper5 @what-i-meant-to-say @keebeees @omaano

#♝ #dukeoftheblackstar #plo koon #plo koon x reader #plo koon x you #plo koon fic #plokoon #plo koon/reader #plokoon/reader #plokoonfic #plokoon/you #ρℓσ∂υ¢н #plo koon ficlet #plo koon x oc #plo koon/oc #there's a very handsome hubby-material Kel Dor Jedi Master General in there bearing gifts if you look really hard ♥

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Surrender - Rose Tico x General Hux (GingerRose)

Authors Note: Good lord….these two make my heart explode.

Warning: Kind of spicy! Nothing huge though.

——————————————————————————————

Air. Air was all Rose could feel and hear. Empty and warm air that surrounded her in this stupid cell. Only an hour ago were her and Finn on their knees infront of the pathetic First Order General. Only an hour ago did the bastard place his disgusting gloved hand under her chin- tilting her to look up at him. She’d debated biting it off- but thought against the better part of herself. It would do no good. No matter how much she wished to see the filth of his smirk wiped from his face.

Now- she was here. Dim lights of the cell flickering to life. She’d been alone. She was sure this wasn’t the end- someone would have to come to the rescue. They couldnt have just been…abandoned? Could they? Gods…she thought it had been only an hour. Her mind flashed with images of Finn. What could they be doing to him?

She was sat down- curled up against her knees as her hands were bound together. She could feel her heart beat- a mixture of fear and determination. She could feel her heart beating to the empty rythm of the air. It was horrid. It was all horrid.

She closed her eyes as she heard the clank of steps outside- heavy boots. They were frustratingly…gracefully getting closer.

As the cell door creaked open, Rose glanced up from her knees, meeting the General’s cold and calculating gaze. His uniform pristine, his demeanor stern, he exuded authority as he approached her with measured steps. The tension in the room was palpable, the unspoken animosity simmering between them like a coiled serpent.

"You're quite the thorn in my side, scum." Hux stated, his voice steady, yet laced with an underlying intensity. "Your resistance and tenacity are both impressive and vexing."

What the hell was he doing here? Rose didn't flinch, her gaze unwavering, a subtle defiance evident in her eyes. "I'll never stop fighting for what I believe in," she replied, her voice matching his own steadiness, refusing to let him see her vulnerability. Though it came out as more of a weak snarl.

Hux's lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing as if relishing the challenge. "What did I say about rebel vermin?” A scowl nearly surfaced. “What you “believe” in is far below the First Order. The Republic is no more.” He spat the word “Republic”, looking at her with accomplishment. His eyebrows raised slightly, tantalizing half smile playing on his face.

Rose didn’t believe it. She knew. The Resistance would never give up, not now. Not ever. Someone would come find her and Finn- and when they did- they would keep fighting. As they had always done.

She didn’t grace him with a response- simply looking up at him in hatred. Her nostrils flared- eyes looking up at him from beneath her brows. Somehow- her lack of a response seemed to irk him. His smile slipped into the familiar scowl- raising his hand. Expecting a blow to the face like Finn got- she closed her eyes- ready to accept- but it never came.

When she opened her eyes- she found the General simply holding his hand up- lip curled. It was as though he had stopped himself- and in his own halt- confused himself as well. His brows furrowed onto her.

There was a moment of charged silence as their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills taking place between them. Rose felt the tension building like an electrical storm, unsure whether to brace herself for the strike or to succumb to the pull of…strange attraction she sensed emanating from Hux.

The General shook his head- as though to shake off his own failure to punish her.

Finally, Rose took her turn to speak- voice leveled. She remembered the feeling of his glove- tracing her cheek and down to her chin- forcing her head to look up at him. The touch…strangely gentle.

“What is it your doing here? If you’re not going to torture me?” Her voice shook- but still dripped with resistance- determination in her throat as she nodded to his hand- still raised.

He scoffed, presumably offended. As though the question was obvious. Hux took a step closer, his breath mingling with hers, their proximity igniting an undeniable spark. He had leaned down to her level on the floor.

Rose thought- this would be the perfect time. To kick or hit or scream or bite. Though…alike Hux’s own failure to hit her- she stood completely still. She attempted to convince herself it was of the fear. The consequences she would face for hitting the man. Thats why she didn’t do it….certainly not the way his eyes trained on her…or the feeling of his touch…or the way his lips curved in the flickering light of the cell.

“You bewilder me, scum,” His voice was suddenly akin to a whisper as neither took their eyes away from the other. It was like a confession- aggression still evident in his words. “…I can't tell if I want to argue with you… or do something else entirely."

Rose swallowed, mouth dry. His hand raised again- though Rose paid it no mind. She stared into his eyes- determined to not show any weakness. It slowly raised as it did when she was first on her knees for him…gloved finger coming down to her chin- then making his way down her jaw, before turning into a fist. He roughly wrapped his hand around into her hair, forcibly pulling her neck back in a sharp motion.

Rose let out a grunt at the action, causing her to finally stand up to his level as he pulled upwards. Her mouth dropped, not taking her eyes off him once. Heavy breaths sounded between the both of them- Hux’s own strangley shakey despite his power. It made her question what the hell was happening. Though it hit her- neither of them really knew.

“Your defiance fuels my desire to break you, yet I find myself….inexplicably…captivated.” His whispers sounded. He sure does talk…a lot. Rose thought to herself, gaze moving from his eyes to his lips. She hurriedly looked away- fighting her thoughts of his lips.

Another tug to her hair forced her to look at him. “Look at me,” he growled- eyes trained on her- emperial accent shaking at his own words. ”Nothing else.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, torn between her instincts to resist and the inexplicable allure he held over her. "I won't let you break me," she asserted, though her resolve seemed to waver as his intensity bore into her soul.

“I assure you…” A slight smile played on his lips- one that he was unsure of himself. He was letting himself go. His control was slipping- but in the moment he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. He dipped his head into her own neck, hand fisted into her hair pulling back. He was now fully pressed up against her- her own body against a cell wall. “…It would be quite…pleasurable for the both of us.”

His breath grazed her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. He murmured the words against her neck, his admission catching them both off guard.

She felt her thighs clench together in reflex. She hated this.

Rose's heart raced, and she mustered the strength to meet his gaze with defiance. "I won't give you the satisfaction," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let you see me weak."

A mix of frustration and intrigue flickered across Hux's features as he pulled away from her neck to observe her. The air between them crackled with a charged energy, a dangerous dance of power and attraction that neither of them could deny.

His grip on her hair loosened slightly, and his thumb brushed against her cheek, his touch strangely tender yet tinged with restraint.

"Your soul...” His voice grew more intense. He held on to her tighter, his affection evident in every caress.

“Your body…” Hux pulled at her hair and leaned close to her lips until he was practically speaking against them.

“Your thoughts…” He struggled to get the words out as he felt the sensation of her own body press against him.

“They already give me satisfaction,” He spat- harsh contrast to the reality of the words. “You are already weak. I can see you right now. A weak…pathetic little thing.”

Rose's breath hitched, her heart conflicted by the emotions coursing through her. She had come to see General Hux as nothing more than an enemy, a cruel and heartless leader of the First Order. But now, faced with this complexing…allure…she couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of anger and attraction.

"Is this some kind of game to you?" she asked, her voice trembling, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. "Toying with me like this?"

Hux's gaze bore into hers, and for a moment, the arrogance in his eyes faded, replaced by a raw honesty that surprised them both. "No," he said, his voice barely above a whisper- cracking in self-frustration and admission. "It's not a game…I don't know what it is, but it's something I can't explain."

The vulnerability in his confession resonated with Rose, and she found herself inching closer to him, drawn to the enigma before her. Despite everything, she couldn't deny the pull she felt, the strange connection that had formed between them from then to now.

Their faces were mere inches apart, the air thick with tension and unspoken words. Rose could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, and her heart pounded in her chest, torn between the desire to fight and the desire to surrender to his wants for her.

Hux closed his eyes and breathed in slowly, calming himself enough for his voice to return to normal. He opened his eyes and looked back into hers. His gaze was filled with the same confusion and conflict as when he spoke before. He knew what he was feeling, but he couldn't admit it, not here.

“Please.” He muttered- word gutteral in his throat. As if it was foreign to him to have to beg for anything. He was used to just getting what he wanted.

Rose felt a strange mixture of emotions swirling inside her as she looked into Hux's conflicted gaze. The General, known for his cold and ruthless demeanor, now appeared vulnerable, almost like a lost little boy searching for something he couldn't quite name.

His plea hung heavy in the air, and Rose could feel the weight of his desire- though not quite fully understanding just what he was asking. It was a dangerous proposition, and part of her wanted to resist, to hold onto her defiance and not give him the satisfaction he sought.

But another part of her, a part that she had never acknowledged before, was drawn to him in a way she couldn't explain. It was as if they were two halves of a whole, two souls entangled in a fate they couldn't escape.

As his lips hovered near hers, Rose felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her. She knew she should push him away, to remind herself of the pain and suffering he had caused. The people he’d killed. Tortured without a second glance. Yet, in this moment, none of it mattered. The lines between captor and captive blurred, and all she could focus on was the magnetic pull between them.

"Please what?" she mumured, her voice barely above a whisper, feeling her resolve melt away. The vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in her own, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the galaxy.

"Surrender," Hux stated, his voice firmer now, as if trying to regain his composure. His voice was a bit louder- as if he was commanding her as he did with the troops. He had practice, Rose reminded herself. Practice in forcing people to do what he wanted. Practice in pain. “Surrender to me. Not to the First Order. To me. No one else.”

His words made her let go of a shakey breath, and Rose found herself finally unable to retort. It was a dangerous proposition, and part of her wanted to run, to deny the questionable aura between them.

But another part of her, a part that she had kept hidden deep inside her heart, yearned to give in, to let herself be consumed by the passion and desire that Hux had suddenly awakened in her.

In that moment, Rose made a choice that would change the course of their lives forever. And with that same mix of fear and determination she had in the begginning, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was electric, a collision of conflicting emotions and unspoken desires. It was as if the cell walls around them had crumbled, leaving them exposed and vulnerable to each other.

Hux responded with equal fervor, if not more. His free hand roughly grabbed her neck, shoving her even farther into the wall that trapped her. His touch was both offensive and passionate- and in that moment, they both surrendered, unbeknownst.

As they kissed, time seemed to stand still, and the weight of the war and their responsibilities falling away. In this small, secluded moment, they were just two individuals bound by fate, trying to find solace and understanding in each other.

When they finally pulled away, both were left breathless and bewildered by the intensity of the moment. Their gazes locked once more, and in that shared look, they saw the vulnerability and strength in each other. Hux looked…horrified- but hadn’t let go of her throat in his hands. Rose looked similarly.

Neither knew where this uncharted path would lead them, but they both knew that they were forever changed. The lines between love and hate had blurred, and they were left with a whirlwind of emotions that neither of them could fully comprehend.

In the dimly lit cell, they’d both stood as equals, despite the chains that held Rose in place.

And in that moment, they realized that sometimes, surrendering to the other….may not be all that bad.

——————————————————————————————

#general hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux #hux #star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #starwars fandom #the last jedi #the force awakens #gingerrose #general hux x rose tico #hux x rose #rose tico x armitage hux #rose tico #ginger rose #rose tico x reader #kylux #soft gingerrose #enemies to lovers #general hux x reader #hux x reader #fanficiton #spicy #x reader #x character

[instrumentalbreakwrites]

Anakin: I Swear (Request)

(Wattpad) @NewYorksNinja : Could you please make one of Anakin Skywalker x reader where the reader is a part of the mission aboard General Grevious' ship? The reader gets hurt in a lightsaber fight against Count Dooku, and Anakin finds them in a room, bloody and bruised and close to unconsciousness. He and Obi-Wan take the reader back to the Jedi Temple where they receive immediate medical attention. Anakin sees them later in private, and they have a really wholesome moment.

Of course! Apologies for taking so long to write this, I've been working on some stuff for work and other life stuff keeps coming up, but I'm excited for this one! Enjoy :)

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Secret Feelings

-

The ceiling was suddenly spinning above your head, making you feel nauseous. How had you ended up on the floor? You tried to sit up, although every muscle in your body screamed and ached for you to lay back down when something solid and heavy landed on your chest.

You were back on the floor again, an all-too-familiar face above your head. Count Dooku.

"I advise you not to get up, young Jedi. I would hate to have to beat you again." He said smugly, his lightsaber buzzing far too close to your head.

Ah, that's right. That's how you ended up here.

A Separatist ship had been spotted hanging out too close to Coruscant for the Republic's comfort. You had initially been sent to check it out because for all the Republic knew, it was a hijacked ship or even an abandoned one that no longer held any association with the Separatist movement. Unfortunately, that was not the case, as both General Grievous and Count Dooku were aboard.

The Jedi Council had sent you, Obi-Wan, and Anakin. You three had a reputation for getting the job done no matter what was thrown at you, dubbed respectfully as the 'unbeatable team.' And it had been true, until today.

Getting separated by the darkened hallways as well as the attacking droids that seemed to appear out of nowhere was almost inevitable. When you were trying to find your way back to the others, you were surprisingly intercepted by Count Dooku and cornered into a room with no backup or help.

You could beat him. You knew that you could, but because he had caught you so off guard, you were off your game.  You managed to keep him at bay for a bit, but eventually, you were overpowered and taken down.

He hadn't gone easy on you, either. As you felt blood trickle down from your lip, or your nose, or somewhere else on your face that you couldn't pinpoint exactly because you were in pain everywhere.

Recalling the look in his eyes when he had first knocked you to the ground, you knew why you had gotten separated from your group, and why Dooku had done so much damage.

You weren't meant to make it off this ship alive.

You watched above you as Dooku raised his lightsaber above his head. You wanted to fight back, but you were too weak, too injured, and your lightsaber had been flung across the room long ago. You couldn't even bring yourself to call on the force for help. It was too late. Your time had come.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the final blow before the unknown was to come, but nothing hit you. You heard another lightsaber igniting behind you, a familiar presence filling your senses. It was a comforting presence, one you had come to search for in busy rooms, one that often found itself near you.

Anakin.

Without another word, you opened your eyes to see flashes of red and blue somewhere in front of you, although you couldn't sit up all the way to watch. You felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, and although you tried your best to stay awake, you couldn't keep yourself from closing your eyes.

Bits and pieces were all you could catch, sounds of two lightsabers clashing together, distant and muffled words, the ceiling still spinning above your head, a warm hand on your shoulder, the sudden presence of silence, then a familiar and friendly voice distantly speaking to you. It was Obi-Wan. He was asking if you were okay. You tried to answer, but right as your lips parted to speak, you went unconscious again.

The next thing you knew, you were being carried in someone's arms, and when you cracked your eyes open, it was Anakin. You should have recognized his touch, but you could barely keep your eyes open for a second. This time, as your eyes drifted closed, they didn't open again.

-

Recovering from this one had not been an easy process. Luckily, since medicine had become so advanced, the Jedi infirmary had you back to your own room within a week. You were still a bit sore, but most things had healed, so you walked yourself back.

Not five minutes after you had returned to your quarters, there was a knock on the door. You couldn't help a smile, knowing exactly who was on the other side of the door simply based on the nervous yet excited force signature you knew so well.

You opened the door, greeted by Anakin standing outside of it, his hand still in the air as if he were about to knock again.

"Hey, sorry to drop in so soon," he said, his usual confidence suddenly gone. He seemed nervous, yet relieved. "I just heard that you were out of the infirmary and I wanted to see you."

It made you smile. You had been friends since the day he was first brought into the temple as Obi-Wan's apprentice, and although you never wanted him to worry about you, it was... sweet, to see that he did.

"Yea, yea, I'm still a little sore but they said I should be clear for duty again in a day or two. Thanks for, you know, saving me." You said, which made him grin.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? Oh, that reminds me..." He trailed off, suddenly grabbing something off the back of his utility belt.

In your hand, he placed your lightsaber. You gasped, wrapping your fingers tightly around it. "Oh my, you found it?"

He nodded, a warm and adoring smile on his face at your excitement.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He had not only risked his life to save you, but he also managed to bring you back the weapon that meant so much to you, your lifeblood as a Jedi. You were so grateful, not just for what he had done, but also for him, that you just hugged him on pure instinct.

You felt him hesitate for a second, surprised by your sudden touch, and you worried you had overstepped. You started to pull back, only to be pulled back in by his arms around your back. He held you against him tightly, burying his face in your shoulder.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, muffled and barely audible. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered back. "I promise."

The two of you stood there, just holding one another silently until the sound of Anakin's comm went off. Reluctantly, he pulled away, and you hooked your lightsaber back into your belt.

Anakin sighed after finishing the brief conversation with who you assumed was someone on the council, due to Anakin's frustrated facial expression as he put his comm away. When he looked back up to you, his face softened.

"I have to go, I'm sorry-"

"Go ahead," you smiled warmly. "I'll be okay."

He let out a soft sigh, admiring you for a moment before snapping out of it.

"Stay alive while I'm gone, okay? I need you around." He said as he started to walk away, turning to face you.

You waved, warmth filling your chest as his force signature gently brushed yours with affection and tenderness that you'd never felt from him.

"I swear."

#anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #clone wars anakin #star wars #clone wars #fluff #hurt/comfort #secret feelings #jedi #general grievous #count dooku

[scribble-dribble-writes]

I created these gifs in the hope they will grant you your heart's wish because our man is shimmering

I want to pluck him out of the Tv screen and make out with him ferociously 😩😩😩😩😩

His hands resting on his thigh, we are truly simping for a pixel man

The stars, planets and moons have aligned today because......

The Pride and prejudice hand flex scene has met it's match, mullet obi. They both make me feel the same way.

#obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #obi wan my beloved #general kenobi #master kenobi #kenobi series #kenobi tv #obi wan imagine #obi wan x reader #obiwan x fluff #tales of the jedi #mullet obi wan

[venushasvixens]

Seeing this after the last episode of the mandalorian, it makes me so happy that we are finally tying in the sequels

#Star Wars #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #kylo ren x you #the last jedi #adam driver #fanfiction #force awakens #supreme leader kylo ren #general hux

[kenobisgalaxy]

Don’t You Know (Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader)

fandom: STAR WARS

pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

type: one shot

genre: smut

word count: 2,812

warnings: Straight up smut (with some plot), a little bit of angst (because I can’t help myself), AFAB!Reader (but no pronouns)

summary: Obi-Wan is acting strange lately. The Council doesn’t assign him on your mission with you although you usually are sent out as a team. You decide to confront the Jedi Master.

a/n: I don’t know how this happened and I’m a little bit embarrassed, but I finally managed to get around writing some heated stuff which usually really isn’t in my comfort zone. But I had to try. So this little piece of writing is purely based on the song Don’t You Know by Jaymes Young which is just an amazing hot mess. Naturally, this one shot is as heated as the song is and should hopefully send shivers down your spine. Have fun reading it, but be warned: I couldn’t help but drizzle some angst into it. As always there is quite a bit of set up so that you can settle into the setting. I like to give some basic info so that the reader can imagine the scenario better. AAH, I am so unsure about this and I really really hope it isn’t awful.

masterlist

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a flirt. He didn't do it intentionally, it was just something that was in his nature. His sarcastic and flirty way of conducting conversations was almost a staple of his character and even or rather especially his enemies weren’t left out by his straightforward way of phrasing things, except perhaps the more important Jedi in the temple, obviously including the council and for some kind of reason: you.

You had known Master Obi-Wan for a long time, you had trained together as Padawans and had been on many missions before. Especially, during the early stages of the Clone Wars you two had been an unbeatable team. Naturally, you admired the slightly older Jedi Master immensely as what he was: a capable Jedi, a distinguished light saber wielder and on top of all the best partner you could ask for on missions. Although Obi-Wan usually was quiet moody and cocky, always being able to think of a snarky remark, to you he never ceased to be his most polite self. Sometimes, in all that politeness you wondered whether he even liked you. His behaviour around you actually was quite odd, he was being too nice, always helping you up and trying to please you at every given point. He never even attempted a sarcastic remark towards you. Maybe, this was what had made you fall in love with him at first, but in times of doubt and especially when you were suffering from low self esteem again, you did wonder whether he actually liked you or whether he was just being superficially friendly in order to hide his inner contempt for you. Was he just being nice because he felt like it was his duty whilst actually being quite repulsed by you? You couldn’t be sure of it and the whole affair drove you around the bend. For a while now, you had tried to get rid of your intrusive thoughts and not think about Obi-Wan as more than a friend, but your love for him made you doubt your relationship to him even more. You felt like every step towards him was actually pushing him away from you and you observed that he was really just becoming more distant the more you yourself opened up to him and sought his attention. It wasn’t like your were showing your true feelings to him because you really didn’t, you rather just tried to spend quality time with him, but with each further attempt on your behalf he just closed himself off even more, until he became fully distant and even cold towards you.

It was another particular appointment for a Jedi Council meeting. You had been summoned to receive a new assignment and were now waiting in the ante-room when you were called. As you were entering the Council’s chamber and stepping in the middle of the round you looked around the room. Master Obi-Wan was sitting as always in his cushioned arm chair with his legs folded and arms placed on the armrests. Why did he have to look so bloody perfect all the time with his copper hair and smooth beard? That wasn’t fair. You shot a quick glance at him smiling, but he didn’t look at you. Instead he watched the ground intently as if it was some interesting new species that he had never seen before. Why wasn’t he noticing you? Usually, he always gave you at least a reassuring smile because he knew how you hated standing before all these Masters, but not this time. What had happened? What was wrong? Master Windu’s firm voice suddenly brought you back to reality and you quickly emptied your thoughts not wanting to showcase them to the Council.

“Master y/n, you will be sent on a mission to Malastare in order to check in on the fuel cargoes that have been ordered. Due to rather unfortunate diplomatic errors after the latest incidents on the planet, the Dugs are still quite suspicious of the Galactic Senate’s decisions. Please watch them carefully and ensure their loyalty.” Master Windu instructed you.

“I expect I will not be sent alone?” You asked hoping to be accompanied by your usual partner Obi-Wan.

“Actually, you will this time, we lay great trust in your expertise and besides this mission shouldn’t be of great difficulty.” Master Windu proceeded.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful, Master, but I’m not quite the diplomat myself and I usually get sent out on mission such as this together with Master Kenobi since he is the negotiator of the two of us, why not this time?” You asked trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

“Because I will be on a mission on my own.” Obi-Wan answered drily.

“Oh okay, well then - I. Yes, so when will I be off planet?” You inquired trying to not sound too baffled.

“Tomorrow set off, you will.” Master Yoda announced.

“Well, thank you, Masters. If that is all, may I leave?”

“Sure, Master y/l/n, your Commander will wait for you with further instructions. May the force be with you.” Master Windu said.

“And with you.” You answered him turning around and leaving the Council’s chamber as quickly as possible.

What in the galaxy was wrong with him. He had been strange all week, but there was no sane rhyme or reason why he behaved so repulsive. He didn’t even look at you all the while you were standing there encircled by the Jedi Masters. Had you done something to annoy him? You couldn’t tell. Perhaps, he had noticed your affection towards him, but that couldn’t be it. You followed the code, you knew that any kind of close relationship was forbidden. Jedi weren’t supposed to have possessions such as a significant other. And it was quite clear to you that Obi-Wan valued the code even more than you. That was the reason why you hid your feelings in the first place. If you couldn’t be in a relationship with the man you loved, you could at least try to be friends with him and have him in your life as just that. But what Obi-Wan was doing was outrageous. There was no possibility that he had found out about your thoughts, so the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour was that he didn’t appreciate your companionship after all. And there they were again: the doubts that haunted you at night. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t make sense. He treated you like he treated nobody else, he was kind and sweat to you and now from one day to another he had apparently changed his mind about all that, about your partnership and about your friendship. Couldn’t he just at least be his cocky self in front of you?

All these thoughts rushed through your head as you were strolling to your quarters. As you were approaching the sliding door it struck you. Kriff. You would never know what was up with him if you didn’t talk to him. Why not just ask him? What was the worst thing he could say? You turned and left the corridor through the way you had come. Obi-Wan’s quarters were just two corridors away from yours. You knew he wouldn’t be there because the Council meeting certainly was still running so you decided to just wait for him as you had done multiple times before. You opened the sliding door and stepped into the familiar looking room. It was the same as yours, quite empty and barren. You said down and got out your holopad to do some research on your new mission whilst waiting for Obi-Wan.

One and two hours must have past when you heard the familiar steps approaching the door. Obi-Wan was busy looking at his own holopad when he entered the room. You quickly got up smoothing your robes with your hands.

“Master Obi-Wan. I’m sorry to intrude your privacy, but I have to speak to you.” You said firmly.

“Master y/n.” He looked quite startled, but quickly seemed to be able to collect himself. “If it is something about your mission, please ask Master Windu or your Commander, I have to prepare my own one.”

“I think neither Master Windu nor my Commander will be able to help me with this. See, it is something quite personal.” You continued.

“Well, ask me another time, I’m busy.” He muttered ushering away from you.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” You urged, now angry. “What is possibly wrong with you?”

“Why? I- I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly fine.” He stuttered. You were agitated. What was he thinking of?

“No, you’re not! Has a Kwazel Maw eaten your brain? Why do you treat me like I am nothing but thin air to you? And why in the damned galaxy aren’t we assigned on the same mission as always? Tell me why you are acting so strangely.” You asked him with every word urging the Jedi Master backwards whilst poking your finger in his chest.

“I thought it would be better if we didn’t see each other for a while. I don’t think this is working.” Now it was you the one who was startled by his words. You were slowly processing his words not wanting to believe them.

“What isn’t working, Obi-Wan? We are the best team. We’re always successful and we always have a great time on our missions.”

“That’s exactly the point. We are not supposed to have a great time together. This is war. It is supposed to be nerve wracking and tedious.” He explained turning away from you.

“So this is what you want? To be miserable all the time and drown in the mental casualties of the war?”

“Precisely.” He muttered. You didn’t believe him. That was so unlike the Obi-Wan that you knew who always tried to master the situation he found himself in, no matter how difficult it was. He always came up with something witty to make the war less depressing.

“Obi-Wan.” You urged gripping his wrist firmly and turning him around. “We know both that you don’t mean that. Tell me what it really is.”

“I can’t - I. This is not what I- It will destroy us.”

“Why? What are you saying. You’re not making any sense.”

“I can’t. I- uh, blast. Screw it. Y/n, it is because of you.”

“Because of me? I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” Now you were utterly confused, the Jedi Master in front of you had completely gone nuts, you were sure.

“Nothing, that is my point. It is just your simple existence.”

“My existence?” You shrieked. That certainly wasn’t the answer you had expected, but it was the answer you had feared. “So you do dislike me after all. I assume I should better go.”

“What? No! That wasn’t what I mean. I don’t want you to go. I need more of you in my life. Don’t you realize what you do to me? Don’t you know that I- don’t you know I want you so bad?” His raspy voice rang in your ears. You just now realized how close you were to him still gripping his wrist. His azure eyes watched you intently and you noticed a slight tingle in them. He was so close. “Every night I call for you. Don’t you know that I’m going mad? I’d do anything to love you. And I know I shouldn’t, I know that I can’t love you, it is forbidden, the code-”

“Screw the code! Nobody should be alone.” You whispered closing the gap between you  two and settling your lips on his. You felt him becoming tense, but then quickly he relaxed and leaned into your kiss wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His soft beard was scratching your smooth skin, you loved the feeling of it, it was intoxicating. You were running your hand up into his hair tugging at his lose strands. It felt perfect, like it had always belonged there. You gasped into the kiss opening you mouth slightly and making way for his tongue. “Obi-Wan!” You moaned. “Y/n, I’d do anything to touch you!” he exclaimed letting go of you only to come back peppering kisses down your neck. “I know you were meant for me!” He mumbled against you heated skin. You felt your core already becoming wet at the sound of his words. Was this really happening? Wasn’t it one of your endless dreams? But he was there kissing you. You had never seen him like this. The always so patient and conceived Jedi Master had turned into a ravenous mess, flirty remarks had turned into heated praising and his usually smirking lips were now peppering your skin with pure need working their way to your collarbones. His strong arms were drawing you impossibly closer and one hand grabbed you by your thigh pulling it up. You felt his length stretching his pants and pressing against your sensitive area. “Please, Obi-Wan, I need you now!”

“You don’t how long I’ve waited for this.” He uttered, pushing you back towards his bed, carefully lifting you up and placing you down making sure you weren’t hurt. With one hand he pinned both your arms down over your head while he hovered above you and devoured your sight. “You look beautiful, darling! I would fight in a war for you.”

“You know you’re actually already doing that.” You chuckled.

“Not the point.” He said silencing you with another heated kiss. You arched your back pressing your hips to his. He was already so hard for you. Your were becoming impatient. He was fumbling with your belt finally being able to untie it. Tugging at your robes he managed to free your chest. His hands were coming back to your waist, lips trailing down finding your breast, tongue playing with your nipple tugging at it lightly. “Obi-Wan, please!” You moaned again. He shot up leaving your exposed chest and fumbled with his own robes quickly getting rid of his top and tossing it far away into the dim room. “Oh darling, I know all the ways to appreciate your design.” He muttered darting back to you and trailing further down to your core whilst pushing your pants out of the way. “Oh, don’t make me beg you please.” he said and then kissed you right down there, tongue playing with your clit and two fingers stroking your entrance, then plunging in deep. You saw stars and were moaning in a hot mess. “Yes, Obi-Wan, right there.” He was hitting all the sweet spots you didn’t even know existed. One hand of yours was finding its way to Obi-Wan’s hair gripping it and holding his head right there, the other one was getting hold of the bed sheets tugging at them violently when he let go of you. “Don’t tease me like this, I need to feel you, Obi-Wan, now please!” You begged.

He got back up and freed himself from this pants that had up until this moment held a big bulge in place. His cock stood tall and erect glistening with pre-cum. You wondered how he would feel inside you filling you up, satisfying you, grinding you, but you didn’t have to think about it for too long since he was already back on top of you spoiling you with kisses and placing his length on your entrance. “Do you really want this, y/n?” He asked you. “Yes, Obi-Wan, I need this. I can’t live without you.” One word of you was enough and you could feel him entering and filling you up completely. “You are so tight.” He pressed out melting into you like your bodies were made for each other. He stayed were he was adjusting his length to you, but then he started thrusting into you, first slowly and then with increasing pace. “Harder, please Obi-Wan.” He did as you instructed all the while leaving kisses on your sensitive area on your neck. “Make me cum, darling.” He breathed into your ear, both of you had turned into a hot mess, bodies clinging to each other as if this was the last time they would be together. He reached his hand down and found your clit again stroking circles around it. You could feel your legs getting shaky by the touch of him, the orgasm was slowly building in your stomach rolling like a great wave over the shore. “I can’t do this any longer!” You gasped. “Me neither.” He stuttered moving quicker. The orgasm was making your toes curl and hitting you with such a force that you couldn’t see anything but stars. He came right after you filling you with his sweat sperm and crushing down on you breathing heavily. “I love you so much, y/n.” He mused into your ear, kissing you as he was pulling out and letting himself fall down onto the bed beside you. “I love you too, Obi.” You smiled and wriggled closer to him settling in his arm, your breath starting to become at ease.

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi wan #general kenobi #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan x you #obi wan series #obi wan fanfiction #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars attack of the clones #Star Wars Revenge of the Sith #star wars a phantom menace #jedi #jedi master #master kenobi

[cluelessgurl]

One shot

A/N: This is literally something random that popped in my head lmao so here it is. Also if there are any grammar mistakes please let me know :)

Pairing: Vader X Female Reader

Summary: A mysterious sith reader follows the orders of her master to collect Vader from his failure at Mustafar.

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, burning, overall angst.

Vader laid there helplessly as his every inch of his body seared and charred, a pain that he knew would haunt him all his life if he somehow survived this. He felt weak, not only physically as he utilized his newly developed powers of the dark side to keep his now unfathomably pained body alive, but also mentally. He felt ashamed that he had been so vulnerable, left to rot and burn as though he were an old letter that held no more sentiment by the man he had once regarded his father.. his brother. He felt weak. Although his anger had reached a platform he could have never imagined, he felt weak. He had screamed and screamed until his throat had slowly eroded enough from the immense heat of the lava that he had no choice but to mute. He was left to sustain his life yet, he had no idea how much longer he could prevail, he felt no one was coming for him as he finally gave in and let his head fall to the scalding surface, letting out weary breathes.

Till he heard footsteps scurry, his initial thought was that Obi-wan had returned so save him, like he always had when they had be been brothers. But there was no sense of urgency in these footsteps. They seemed calculated, most importantly, it was not Obi-wan’s familiar presence in the force , but completely unknown to him. They approached closer and closer till they halted neatly to a safe distance. “Wh..who ar-are you” Vader muttered, yet again in a wretchedly weak manner. However, the stranger did not respond. Vader attempted to raise his head for his blurred eyes to see them yet he failed to do so. The stranger did not move , made no sound until they gently lifted using the force, wrapping around him until Vader shifted from the depths of fire to the ground Obi-Wan once held . Only then did they speak, with a conviction and depth Vader had not experienced before. “My master shall see you now” and when he heard those words he finally managed to lay his eyes on her. She stood there towering above his body, hands pinned behind her. She was dressed in black robes, a lightsaber clipped to her side as her dark hair cascaded down with a face that held no emotion. However Vader could not avoid her most prominent feature, her piercing yellow eyes of the sith. She emanated sheer strength, and power that he had never experienced before, he would have compared this power to himself if he had not been weak enough to end up in such an inferior position; pain was still striking his body from every part making him writhe in agony , she noticed this. With those same furiously yellow eyes looking down at him, she placed him on the med carrier, with no movement yet utilising the force when she abruptly turned around, hands yet pinned to her back and uttered no other words as she took him his fate.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #clone wars #general skywalker #jedi order #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader fanfiction #vader #vader and obi wan #lord vader #vader x reader #sith lord #sith empire #female sith #palpatine #the force

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion - Stass Allie and Shaak Ti protecting Palpatine from Grievous by Chris Trevas

#Star Wars #Star Wars: The Essential Reader's Companion #Star Wars: Legends #Palpatine #general grievous #Sci-Fi #Jedi #Chris Trevas

[arctrooper69]

Don't Miss Me

Part of the "If I Don't Make it Back Alive" letter series. Commander Wolffe (reluctantly) writes his lover from the front lines.

Warnings: Mentions of war and death? Typical canon stuff.

--------------------------------------------------

Cyar'ika,

I feel ridiculous writing this letter when I'd rather just say it straight to your face. At least then I could kiss you. Unfortunately duty calls, finding me without you.

There are rumors that this war is almost over but I'm gonna be honest, Cyare, it's been a rough couple of weeks. The damn clankers keep on coming and we keep on fighting. The weather's been shit here too - rain, rain, and more rain. Turns the ground into mud that'll suck your boots off if you're not careful. That happened to Sinker yesterday. It was honestly the funniest thing that's happened in awhile. Well, it was funny until the idiot decided to drag half the squad down with him. Now I've got mud in places that don't even see the light of day. But enough with the complaining already. I'm probably boring you to tears.

You always say that I frown too much, but lately when I'm lying awake in my bunk at night in the dark, I think of you and it makes me smile a little. You always did bring out the best in me. (Just please don't ever tell the boys that I smile. I'd never live it down.)

I guess I'm really just writing to say that I love you, cyar'ika. I want you to know that I'm still alive and kicking and that I'm doing my damnedest to get back into your arms again. Hell, you know I'd fight all the clankers in the whole kriffing galaxy if it got me back to you any faster.

Now I know you don't want to hear this, cyar'ika, but I just need to say it. If something happens to me - if I don't make it back to you - I want you to move on. I know I'm the luckiest clone in the whole damn GAR because I have you. But I am just a clone. You deserve so much better and if I don't make it out of this war, promise me that you won't shut yourself away. You're too smart for that. How I ever ended up with a girl as smart and as beautiful as you I'll never know, but I thank my lucky stars every day for it. I love you, cyar'ika. See you soon.

Wolffe

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@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabeewrites @my-own-oracle

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

#commander wolffe x you #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe #star wars #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #clone wars #swtcw #sw tbb #sw tcw #clone commander wolffe #commander wolf #clone trooper #clone trooper boost #clone trooper sinker #104th battalion #tcw wolfpack #plo koon #jedi general plo koon #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #the clone wars commander wolffe #tcw commander wolffe #if i don't make it back alive #clone trooper letters

[missshezz]

Title: Experience

Warnings: None Apply

Rating: All ages

Word Count: 1025

Tags: pre-clone wars movie, Rex and company are sent to help reader, war, death, angst, drama, loyalty, clone protocol

Summary: Rex teaches you a lesson about experience and respect

You spot the battle droid from the corner of your eye. Even with the Force flowing through your veins, you cannot deflect the blaster bolt.

It hits the trooper next to you in the upper part of his chest.

He goes down without a sound.

His pain is a ripple in the Force.

You can do nothing to help ease it, though.

Not with that battle droid rapid firing at you and the clone in command of this small regiment.

His designation number is CT-7567.

If he has an actual name, you don’t know it.

There hadn’t been time for formal introductions. The captain and his men arrived as you found yourself surrounded by a horde of battle droids.

Death seemed imminent.

Something you accepted.

As all Jedi did.

“Sir, watch out!”

You turn to see one of the super battle droid’s advancing towards you, arms raised, intent clear.

You use the Force to throw the droid into the others coming your way.

“Tinnies advancing on the left!” CT-7567 shoots a droid in the head with one of the DC-17 blaster pistols he’s holding. “Deploy droid poppers!”

Immediately, a dozen balls flew into the air.

All arcing in one synchronized motion before dropping in front of the droids.

Streaks of blue strike the droids, frying their circuits, and powering them off for good.

Your reprieve is short-lived, however.

For every one droid that falls, twenty replace them.

“Captain!” you hear. “Clankers advancing on the right!”

“Get ready!” CT-7567 orders. “Give ‘em everything we got!”

“Sir, yes, sir!”

Soon as the droids are within range, they let loose a barrage of blaster fire. The pings as bolts slam into the thick metal covering the battle droids remind you of the steel drums you heard while on a mission with your former master.

They, too, sounded of death.

Droids fall but are quickly replaced by more.

They’re just bodies Separatists send out to die for their cause.

Programmable, dependable, expendable, and above all else, replaceable.

It’s not lost on you how the same thing is being done by the Republic.

Only, they’re sending out an army of cloned humans instead of droids.

Living, thinking, feeling, and killable sentient beings.

You find it utterly abhorrent.

War, your master once told you, is never a solution and is never justified.

“It doesn’t matter who wins to those dead,” he said. “They are the ones who have made the ultimate sacrifice.”

You’re determined to see as few dead as possible.

You’re a guardian of peace and not a soldier, after all.

Or you weren’t until now.

“Captain.” You stop to deflect blaster bolts with your lightsaber. “Have your men pull back to that outcropping of rocks. We can make a stand there while waiting for reinforcements to arrive!”

“Yes, Commander!”

His address stuns you.

You’re not a commander.

You’re barely a Jedi Knight.

Your promotion, in fact, came right before you were deployed to this inhospitable planet.

You don’t correct the captain, though.

There’s no time for it.

Not with a horde heading in your direction.

And what a swarm it is, you realize, stomach churning with dread.

Battle droids.

Super battle droids.

Droidekas.

Spider droids.

Hailfires.

All coming right at you.

The reality of the situation is clear.

There are no fighter tanks to combat those hailfires.

No AT-RTs to mow down the battle droids.

It’s just you and a rapidly diminishing squadron of men.

Clones are not like droids.

Their numbers aren’t infinite.

It took time to grow new clones.

Train them.

Prepare them for battle.

Time you do not have.

You and these men are going to die.

Not before you take as many droids with you as you can.

A hailstorm of blaster fire erupts.

Bodies fall around you.

Each life extinguished is like a candle blown out by a strong breeze.

Leaving you cold, cold, cold.

You’re a Jedi, however, and don’t allow your grief to consume you.

You let it pass into the Force.

“Sir, look!” CT-7567 points to the sky. “Reinforcements are on the way!”

A sigh of relief escapes you as Republic gunships break through the barrage of laser blasts, bringing desperately needed backup, and much needed air support.

The battle you feared lost turns into a Republic victory a short time later.

There’s no celebrating for you, however.

There’s injured and dead soldiers to attend too.

You move to a clone leaning heavily on a pile of rocks. He tries to straighten as you approach but you shake your head.

“We do not need such formalities.”

“Sir?”

“You’re injured.” You slide an arm around his waist. “I think we can forego protocol until after you receive medical attention.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Twyla, please, Trooper.”

“I’m Jesse.” A pained grunt escapes him. “Sir.”

You go to correct him but the arrival of CT-6116, Kix you heard the medic called, puts an end to the subject. You turn Jesse over to the medic and go to help the others in need of medical attention. CT-7567 materializes at your side after you help the last injured trooper into the waiting transport.

“Commander? Your transport is waiting.”

“I’m not a commander.” You turn to the captain. “I’m a Jedi. A newly knighted one, in fact.”

“In my books, sir, experience outranks everything.”

“Please, just Twyla.” You walk with him towards the waiting gunship. “And you and your men definitely outrank me, Captain.”

“It’s Rex.” You think you detect a hint of humor in his tone but can’t be sure. “Commander.”

You accept the address despite feeling you haven’t earned it.

Something tells you that you will before this conflict is over.

If we don’t end this war, and soon, it will end the Republic and everything it stands for.

Something as a Jedi you cannot allow to happen.

Still, you find yourself wishing there was another way to bring about a resolution.

If only to stop more lives from being sacrificed.

Enough were lost here this day.

Men you swear to see honored for their sacrifice.

“Let’s take our leave…” You look at the captain. Committing his image to memory. Just in case you never see him again. “Rex.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #saw fanfic #rex x you #rex x reader #generic star wars name #captain rex #ct 7567 #clone trooper jesse #reader is a Jedi #you as a Jedi #Scorp writes fan fiction #2nd person pov #gifs #flashing gif #star wars the clone wars

[sweettee18]

Star Wars Imagines 1

A Promise Kept 2/2

The second part of the story of where things left off when Kylo Ren revealed himself to his childhood friend.

Kylo Ren-🟥

You-🟦

General Hux-🟧

Father-🟩

Mother-🟪

“I am confused. Do you two know each other?” The queen asked curiosly, seeing the tension between you and Kylo Ren. “Me and your daughter knew each other since we were children while we were still under the supervision of the legendary Jedi, Luke Skywalker. And I do believe I remember making a promise to her” Kylo replied to your mother’s question.

Your father asked, “And what promise is this that you intend to keep to my daughter?”Kylo looked at your father and said, “I promised your daughter that I will come back and take her with me, once my training was complete, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.” Before your father could object, you asked him, “If I do go with you, do you promise that you will not harm anyone that I hold dearly, including my homeworld that shall remain untouched?”

General Hux spoke up, with the evil smug still on his face, “My lady, we’ll see to it that your homeworld will not be harmed, along with everyone in it.”

“To be honest with you, I had a feeling that there was a new leader in the First Order, but I did not expect the new Supreme Leader would be you.” You said, still with a hint of anger in your voice, then tears begin to fill up your eyes, and you looked at your friend of who he is now. You looked at your family, telepathically telling your father, that you love them, and will find a way to see them again. Before you can give your answer, your mother said, “I don’t know about this friendship between you and my daughter, but I do not trust you, Supreme Leader . How do we know that you will keep your promise to her?”

“ I give you my word, my lady. ” Kylo replied finally, you turn to Kylo Ren, and said to him, “As long as you keep your word, I will go with you.”

With that settled, the general signaled the storm troopers to move out and head to the shuttles. You say goodbye to your family and walk off with Kylo Ren by your side. As you board the supreme leader shuttle, the children who you were spending time with came out and started calling for you.

Kylo Ren placed a hand on your shoulder and said to you, “I will not keep you from seeing your family, just as long as you come back to me.” You were relieved to hear that from your friend. Even though he became the new supreme leader, you still remember him as that shy apprentice that you knew when you two were just children.

But then, you felt a pair of eyes staring right from behind you. You looked over your shoulder, and you saw the General, who stood 10 feet away from you. You turn back to watch as a shuttle, descended off the ground and leaving your homeworld and everyone you loved behind.

As this was happening, General Hux try to approach you from behind. Not within 3 feet from you, he felt his feet getting pretty cold. He looked down and saw some of the grates underneath him began to freeze. Kylo looked over his shoulder to see what was happening and then looked back at you, only to see your eyes were glowing ice blue.

“I’d be very careful and keep my distance, Hux. You really don’t want to get on her bad side.” Kylo warned. General Hux asked, “The question is, which side is it?” Kylo looked at Hux again, and said,“My advice: You don’t want to know.”

Of course, you couldn’t help but smirk at the comment Kylo made. Rather hot or cold, you were extremely dangerous. Just as long as everyone showed you respect the same way they showed their Supreme Leader, you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be a problem. 

The End😊

I hope everybody enjoyed this story. Please like comment and follow.

#star wars fanfiction #starwarsfan #starwars #kylo ren x reader #kylo x you #Jedi #cryokinesis #pyrokinesis #general armitage hux

[wegtable]

palpatine is actually the funniest character from star wars ever actually

[queenofnightdreamland]

Blue & Grey. Capítulo 26

Warnings/Advertencias: canon divergence, mención a heridas y torturas, mentiras, pánico, no sé que más...

Pareja: Obi-Wan Kenobi x jedi! fem!reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Simbología: ⎯ ⁘✦⁘⎯ (espacio temporal largo), ⎯ ✦ ⎯ (espacio temporal corto), "abcd..." (visión de la fuerza), "abcd..." (pensamientos), “abcd…” (pensamientos enviados a través de la fuerza), <<abcd…>> (mensajes datapad), °abcd...° (recuerdos).

Nota autor: no me desaparecí a propósito, me inscribí en un taller de escritura creativa y narrativa; además de un ataque creativo que, usualmente, cuando pasan no escribo en orden cronológico, así que me tardé en ordenarlo para poder actualizar. Espero lo disfruten.

Anterior / Siguiente

Masterlist Blue & Grey

◞────────⊰·•·⊱────────◟

Obi-Wan se acercó con Anakin por el pasillo, donde observó a la distancia que Raihin estaba conversando contigo. No supo qué le provocó una sensación un poco desagradable, pero se controló. Cuando volteaste y observaste a Obi-Wan lo saludaste antes de continuar con la conversación.

-Maestro, si no deja de verlos así todos en la orden van a saber que tiene algo contra Raihin.

-No tengo nada contra Raihin – responde con un tono casi molesto.

-Entonces no se muestre tan enojado porque Y/N converse con él.

-No estoy enojado, ella puede conversar con quien quiera.

-Entonces, no se ponga celoso.

-Anakin, por la fuerza. No estoy celoso.

-Claro, lo que diga maestro… Iré a saludar. ¡Hey, Y/N! – exclama y te volteas - ¿Cómo te fue en la misión?

-Sobrevivimos, Anakin – respondes divertida y le entregas el datapad a Raihin donde firmó el reporte de la misión.

- ¿No hubo diversión?

-Sabes que no me gusta la guerra…Y tampoco soy tan desastrosa cuando se trata de elaborar un plan.

-No soy desastroso.

-Lo que tu digas, Ani.

-Listo – dice Raihin y aceptaste el datapad – ¿Eso sería todo?

-Creo que sí. Llevaré el reporte al consejo, buen trabajo.

-Igualmente, Starlight.

Anakin se acercó para empujarte amistosamente con el codo a lo que reíste – ¿Qué tienes, Anakin?

-Nada, sólo que me pareció muy agradable su relación.

-Es otro compañero, y ambos aprobamos las pruebas jedi el mismo año – señalas y te cruzas de brazos rodando los ojos.

-Mmmh, más razón para que pueda haber algo ¿no crees? – pregunta y vuelve a empujarte con el codo.

- ¿Haber qué? – preguntas, cansada – Sabes que no me interesa.

-Eso debe doler, que dicha que no soy yo el que saldría lastimado – responde y comienzas a reír acercándote a Obi-Wan que saludaste.

- ¿Todo salió bien?

-Un par de problemas aquí y allá, nada que mis clones no pudiesen solucionar en el momento… Creo que hemos avanzado mucho en el planeta con esta victoria.

-Me alegro de escuchar eso, menos batallas para nosotros – responde y asientes.

-Extraño los tiempos de paz – admites y Anakin rodó los ojos mientras Obi-Wan asentía.

-Ustedes dos son iguales… ¿No han disfrutado las misiones?

-No, especialmente la de Grievous – señalas provocando que un sentimiento pesado se instalara en medio de los tres –. No pongan esa expresión, todo salió bien, al final.

-Por poco y terminas muerta, ¿cómo puedes decir que “todo salió bien”? – pregunta Anakin molesto.

-Estoy viva, eso es lo que importa ¿no? – les sonríes – Quisiera quedarme más tiempo, pero tengo que entregar este reporte y refrescarme, detesto no poder lavar mi cabello – dijiste señalando el cabello que ahora mismo tenías en una coleta alta y comenzando a caminar.

-Eso ha sido lo más superficial que he escuchado salir de tu boca hasta ahora– volteaste el rostro y le sacaste la lengua a Anakin, él comenzó a reír.

- ¡Nos vemos!

Obi-Wan dejó escapar un suspiro mientras negaba para sí mismo, definitivamente cada vez que te veía partir a una misión tenía más miedo de que te volvieran a lastimar, ya fuese a un nivel similar al de Dooku con electricidad o al nivel de Grievous con una tortura que te dejara al borde de la muerte.

-Me sorprende que el consejo la esté enviando con otros jedi en lugar de nosotros – admite y cruza los brazos.

-A mí no, quieren mantenerla lejos de mí… Supongo que sintieron algo sobre mi ligero apego a ella – admite un poco molesto.

- ¿Acaso no eres parte del consejo? ¿No puedes intervenir? Digo, igual pueden enviarla conmigo.

-Casi siempre estoy contigo en las misiones, Anakin.

-Sith, prefiero que la envíen con nosotros. Algo en Raihin no me agrada mucho.

- ¿No la estabas alentando a tener algo con él?

-Claro que no, sólo la molesto y ella lo sabe… Veré qué puedo hacer para que la envíen con nosotros, puede que ya no la tengan en la mira, pero eso podría significar que no nos estén intentando distraer.

-Gracias, si viene de ti seguro lo considerarán.

- ¿Por qué no me dijiste que sentías algo por ella antes? – pregunta Anakin y lo siguió al dormitorio del hombre rubio.

-No vi la necesidad, todavía estoy aceptando que pasara dos veces y especialmente la situación en que lo entendí.

Anakin asintió y supo que Obi-Wan también estaba recordando ese momento en que ni siquiera los clones sabían qué hacer.

°-Dirige la batalla espacial mientras Rex, Cody y yo bajamos a la superficie.

- ¿Seguro que puedes con esto solo? – preguntó Anakin.

-Algo podré hacer – responde Obi-Wan al mismo tiempo en que mantenía una ligera atención en ti, sentía tu marca parpadear de forma extraña y por la severidad de los distintos cortes que podía ver a simple vista claramente estaba preocupado.

Cuando se acercaban al crucero sintió el desbalance, se volteó justo a tiempo para lanzarse hacia ti y evitar que cayera sorprendiendo a Gallia y Cody.

- ¡Y/N! – exclamó el jedi de cabellos rubios rojizos y Rex quien estaba más cerca y conocía primeros auxilios saltó de su lugar para ayudar a Obi-Wan – ¡Y/N abre los ojos, no puedes dormirte! – exclama acelerado mientras el clon buscaba señales de vida, pero no encontraba el pulso.

-No siento su pulso – exclama preocupado y Gallia salió de nave que recién había aterrizado en el hangar para correr hacia el interior del crucero para buscar un droide médico o un clon que ayudara.

Anakin se lanzó en medio y comenzó a buscar junto a Rex nuevamente, mientras Obi-Wan se alejaba como en trance y se dejaba caer sobre un asiento de la nave. Cody le colocó una mano sobre el hombro preocupado.

-General, estoy seguro de que estará bien – él asintió sin poder decir nada más, no encontraba las palabras.

- ¡Aquí está! – exclamó Anakin aliviado y el jedi rubio dejó escapar un jadeo de alivio junto a los demás clones – Estrellas, está helada, ¡una manta!

-No hay general – exclama Cody buscando en el kit médico.

-Poodoo – exclama y llegados a esa situación nadie sabía qué hacer, y en esos momentos ninguno llevaba la capa de jedi encima como para utilizarla como último recurso.

- ¡Skywalker, el equipo médico llegó! – escucharon a Gallia y él la cargó sin pensarlo.

-No pienso dejarte morir, Y/N… Has sido electrocutada por Dooku, no puedes morir por esto, por favor – pide mientras bajaba corriendo la rampa y los clones lo seguían apresurados.

Cuando la colocó sobre la camilla y el droide le colocó una manta térmica encima inmediatamente le colocó un equipo para medir su pulso. Entonces comenzó a moverla hacia el interior de la nave y Obi-Wan intentó seguirla antes de ser detenido por Gallia.

-Yo me encargo de ella, atrape a Grievous, Kenobi.

Ella desapareció con la camilla y él se quedó congelado en el lugar antes de dejarse caer de rodillas – Maestro – exclamó Anakin preocupado - ¿Está bien?

- ¿Qué voy a hacer si muere mientras estoy persiguiendo a Grievous?

-No va a morir, ha pasado por peores cosas.

-Anakin, tú mismo luchaste junto a Rex para encontrar su pulso y su marca de la fuerza no está nada bien, está parpadeando y lo sabes. Está al borde de la muerte.

-Maestro, ¿por qué actúa así? Nunca lo había visto de esta manera.

-No quiero decirlo en voz alta, eso sólo lo va a hacer más real, Anakin… Eso significaría que fallé al código y…

- ¿Maestro?

-No puedo verla morir, no lo soportaría.

-Maestro, no me diga que usted… ella…

-Sí, me enamoré – murmuró y él no supo qué hacer. Siendo una situación menos dramática y en un ambiente más alegre probablemente hubiese lanzado comentarios sarcásticos y se hubiese burlado de él; pero ahora, no podía siquiera encontrar palabras que tranquilizaran su propia mente.

-Cuando regrese, maestro, debería decírselo – logró decir y él lo miró como si hubiese dicho que dejaría la orden.

-No pienso hacerlo, no puedo… No debe de enterarse.

-Lo que usted diga maestro, pero sepa que debería decirlo antes de morir aplastado por las consecuencias que puedan venir a raíz de negar lo que siente.

-No va a ocurrir nada, Anakin, porque somos jedi y no podemos tener apegos emocionales.

-Lo que diga, maestro… Ahora, atrape a Grievous y si puede mátelo, por Y/N.

Él asintió y se puso de pie antes de girarse a Cody y Rex que lo esperaban a una distancia prudencial fingiendo que no habían escuchado lo que ambos jedi hablaron. Después de todo, eran clones y bastante discretos, les importaba mucho sus generales, así que no hablarían de algo que era más que seguro les traería problemas con la orden jedi.

**

Cuando Obi-Wan regresó al crucero Anakin lo recibió acelerado y en ese momento realmente sintió pánico.

-Dime que está bien, por la fuerza – pide y él asintió.

-La lograron estabilizar, está en un tanque de bacta – responde y él dejó escapar un suspiro cargado de alivio.

-Dioses, gracias.

-Desafortunadamente, no me dejaron verla… Dice que tiene que estar completamente aislada mientras sana allí dentro.

-Mientras esté bien, mientras siga con vida…

-Generales, el consejo quiere hablar con ambos – escuchan a Cody y ambos asintieron para salir rumbo al puente y escuchar lo que el consejo tuviese que decir °

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La misión era bastante sencilla, infiltrarse en una base abandonada separatista, revisar si había datos olvidados en su retirada, recolectarlos, colocar bombas y destruirla para evitar que fuesen ocupadas en un futuro.

Todos los clones se colocaron en sus puestos en las tiendas que colocaron como base improvisada en un punto estratégico para vigilar la base separatista donde podrían defenderse en caso de que fuese una trampa. La espalda del campamento estaba rodeada de montañas empinadas que te habías asegurado de registrar por señales de un posible ejército de droides y al ver que no había nada la tomaron como una posible ruta de escape y cobertura para destruir un ejército que pudiese atacarlos de frente.

Viorica observó el plan, Xyón asintió conforme y te miraron expectantes por una orden definitiva.

-General, entonces enviaré a Bead y Cymos.

Eso te hizo levantar la mirada y negaste – No, prefiero discreción completa. Viorica, irás tú.

- ¿Yo? – pregunta sorprendida

-Sí, es una tarea sencilla, no deberían encontrarse droides activos. Sólo, ten cuidado de las posibles trampas ¿entendido?

-Sí maestra. Regresaré en poco tiempo.

-Muy bien, cuando estés lista, padawan.

-Sí, maestra.

Xyón te miró curioso y negaste, él asintió y fue a dar la noticia de que todos se mantendrían esperando por noticias de Viorica quien se infiltraría en la base.

-Viorica, confío en tus capacidades, pero si encuentras alguna dificultad usa el comunicador ¿entendido?

-Sí maestra, regresaré antes de que el sol se encuentre en su punto más alto.

-Que la fuerza te acompañe, padawan.

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El camino hacia la base fue aburrido, sin nada interesante que ver o recalcar, pero estaba un poco nerviosa. Gracias a las intensas clases que recibía en todos los momentos libres que tenía ahora podía meditar con tranquilidad, su maestra la había felicitado tantas veces que ahora estaba desarrollando un poquito de exceso de confianza, pero intentaba recordar que esos no eran sentimientos dignos de un jedi. Sus estudios en cultura Sith avanzaban lentos, porque tenía cosas más importantes que aprender en esos momentos, pero luego de haber puesto atención a las acciones de su maestra todavía tenía sus dudas. Realmente actuaba como un jedi ejemplar, pero varias cosas que había dicho al regresar de la batalla en Kamino que todavía la hacían dudar.

La entrada que iba a utilizar estaba cerca según el mapa que había memorizado y se preparó para entrar, sin embargo, sentía el lugar rodeado de un poco de oscuridad ahora que estaba más cerca y estaba más alerta que antes.

Entró con todo el sigilo que había aprendido a manos de su maestra y comenzó a caminar por los pasillos girando en las intersecciones: derecha, izquierda, izquierda, izquierda, derecho, seguir directo, derecha, derecha, izquierda. Entonces escuchó algo a sus espaldas, pasos lentos y tranquilos que se sentían llenos de oscuridad.

Viorica sintió el pánico subir por su garganta y quiso correr, pero inspiró con fuerza, suprimió su marca de la fuerza para ocultarse y continuó con el camino que había memorizado. Al entrar a la sala de comunicaciones se quedó helada, ese lugar no estaba deshabitado, todo estaba encendido y funcionando, era una trampa, tenía que avisar a su maestra.

Al voltearse un par de manos la sujetaron por los hombros – Tranquila, pequeña jedi – susurró una voz que le puso la piel en punta, se inclinó y sintió su respiración en su cuello donde sintió que inspiró con fuerza lo que le hizo encogerse en su lugar –. Hmmm, la aprendiz de Y/N Starlight, un gusto conocerte por fin, Viorica… Me duele que me lanzaras fuera de tu mente tantas veces, pequeña flor.

- ¿Quién es usted? – preguntó y se sorprendió a sí misma al escuchar que no le tembló la voz

- ¿No sabes quién soy? ¿Acaso no has sentido nada similar de mi marca con la de Y/N? – preguntó divertido

Viorica volvió a pensar sobre las tantas veces que lo detuvo de ingresar a su mente y la marca que tenía al lado ahora mismo. Tenía un tinte familiar, definitivamente; eso sólo podía significar que tenía razón, él y la persona que intentaba ingresar a su mente eran la misma. Pero eso con respecto a la marca de Y/N, no tenían nada de similar, ni una pizca.

-Me temo que sus marcas no podrían ser más diferentes.

-Uhmm, quiere decir que ha cambiado más de lo que pensé… ¿Acaso no has escuchado hablar sobre la misión en Scarif y sobre Javaid?

- ¿Quiénes?

- ¿No te ha dicho? Oh, esto será genial, florecilla… Le va a doler más de lo que pensé el que te dañe – comenta divertido y comenzó a reír por lo bajo de una manera que le heló la sangre a la jovencita presa en sus brazos.

Sintió la mano que colocó sobre su frente y se resistió con todo lo que tenía; pero encontró una fisura en medio de todo por un ligero pensamiento que dejó escapar y la desconcentró. Jadeó y antes de perder control sobre sí misma, presionó el comunicador en su muñeca y comenzó a luchar contra la invasión en su mente.

- ¡Maestra! – gritó con toda la fuerza que encontró antes de gritar por el dolor que se estaba recorriendo su cabeza, nunca había sentido un dolor de esa manera ni magnitud.

Entonces, la verdadera pesadilla comenzó.

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