#jedi!reader

The younger Jedi twisted stubbornly against his binds, glancing around at the dozen or so droids posted around the room like statues, blasters ready.

Anakin wasn’t expecting this. It was supposed to be a simple mission, as Master Yoda had said. Wouldn’t even take more than a day or so to do, but then this happened. Of course, “simple” rarely meant what it was supposed to - not when Anakin Skywalker was involved.

He sighed through gritted teeth, flexing his wrists against the restraints. The metal bit into his soft skin. “You’re awfully calm for someone who just got captured.”

Obi-Wan tilted his head, unbothered, “Panicking rarely solved anything, Anakin. Besides… Patience is a Jedi’s ally.”

Anakin groaned, sagging against his restraints. “Yeah, yeah. Patience, serenity, all that Jedi wisdom.”

Obi-Wan offered a small, infuriating smile. “Exactly.”

Anakin frowned, turning his head to look at his Master as much as he could, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, “You know something I don’t, Master?”

That familiar, maddening smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips, “Let’s just say… I have faith.”

‘In what?’ Anakin was about to ask, until the metal door in front of them clanged open with a violent hiss, smoke curling from its edges. Sparks rained down like stars as the silhouette of a long figure stepped into the room. The droids immediately pivoted towards the figure, blasters raised. But the figure didn’t move. They stood there, mysterious, ominous, cloaked in robes of dark grey and black that almost seemed to absorb the light around them. The hood of their cloak was pulled low, hiding most of their face in shadow. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, eyes narrowed in confusion. Obi-Wan’s calm demeanor was as unwavering as ever, but there was something different in his expression. Was that… Anticipation? Before Anakin could even voice his thoughts, the figure ignited their lightsaber.

The blade hummed to life with an eerie, calming hiss of blue. The sound filled the room, and then, without warning, the figure moved. In a flash, they were a blur of speed, their cloak fluttering behind them as they dashed toward the first droid. The droid fired, but the blaster bolt never reached its target. With a swift flick of their wrist, they deflected the shot effortlessly, sending it spiraling back into the droid’s chest. Sparks erupted, and the droid collapsed with a mechanical screech.

Before the others could react, they were already moving - their lightsaber spinning in a tight, rapid circle in front of them, deflecting a volley of blaster bolts with ease. One hand shot out, and a blast of the Force slammed three droids into the wall, crushing them like tin cans. They leapt forward, flipping mid-air, landing in a crouch as their blade swept in a clean arc, slicing through metal. And within seconds, the floor was littered with the smoking remains of droids. Limbs scattered, circuits sparking, and metal still hissing from the fierce heat of their blade; Anakin watched, hanging from his restraints, in a state of awe.

With a calm exhale, you sheathed your lightsaber, before clipping it smoothly to your hip. You turned on your heel, facing the two Jedi still dangling from their restraints. Jutting your hip out, hands settling on your waist, you raised a brow beneath your hood. 

“Well,” You said dryly, “Don’t you two look tied up at the moment.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting as he gestured towards the restraints with a tilt of his chin. “Mind giving us a hand?”

Without so much as lifting a finger, the cuffs snapped open with a metallic click, and both Jedi dropped to the floor, landing on their feet. Anakin watched you, immediately rubbing at his sore wrists. 

You stepped forward, your cloak swaying behind you, “Obi-Wan, still getting yourself into trouble, I see.”

Obi-Wan smiled warmly, clasping your shoulder, “For the record, it wasn’t my fault this time.”

You raised an eyebrow, scoffing, “That’d be a first.”

Then, you turned toward the younger Jedi, finally pulling down your hood, and revealing your face for the first time. Sharp eyes, calm confidence, and a faint smirk tugging at your lips.

“So,” You began, eyes giving him a once over before meeting his blue eyes, “You must be Obi-Wan’s used-to-be Padawan.”

He swallowed, posture straightening slightly, “Uh… Yeah. That’s me.”

Your smirk deepened. “You’re taller than I expected. And... I gotta say, you’re kind of cute. For a Jedi.” You paused, your eyes lingering on him with an amused glint. “Reckless too, I hear. You get that from Obi-Wan.”

He blinked, a slow grin forming upon his lips at your words, “You’ve heard of me?”

“Oh,” You said, tilting your head, “Everyone’s heard of you, Anakin Skywalker.” You teased, amusement in your gaze.

“Funny… I’ve never heard of you before.”

You chuckled, stepping closer, “That’s because I’m better at staying off the radar.” Then, with a quick nod, you introduced yourself, “Name’s Y/N. Jedi Shadow. Your ride out of here.”

Before he could respond, you spun on your heel with a swish of your cloak and robes, already striding toward the exit. Anakin felt it before he could stop it, his smile growing as his gaze followed you. There was something about the way you moved, the way you fought, the way you spoke.

Obi-Wan nudged him in the side, hard enough to snap him out of it, “Careful, Anakin.”

Anakin blinked and looked over, trying to play it cool and nonchalant. “What?”

Obi-Wan gave him that calm, all-knowing look, “She’s impressive, yes. But if anything were to happen… Remember where your loyalties lie. The Order has never been fond of attachments.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips as he nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I get it. No attachments, Master.”

Then, suddenly, you popped around the corner of the shattered doorway, one brow raised and a playful smirk on your lips before you tossed Anakin and Obi-Wan their stolen lightsabers. “Well? You two coming, or are you planning to redecorate this lovely prison cell?”

Fixing his lightsaber to his hip, Anakin didn’t hesitate, already moving. His boots echoed against the floor as he quickly caught up with you, that crooked grin breaking into something wider, brighter. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes lingered on you said more than words ever could.

You caught his gaze, lips curving as you walked beside him. “Careful, Skywalker,” You spoke up, “Stare any longer and I’ll start to think you like me.”

Anakin’s smirk deepened, his eyes still fixed on you. “Maybe I do,” He said smoothly, voice low. “Is that going to be a problem?”

You glanced at Obi-Wan, who gave you a knowing look, but you shrugged it off, rolling your eyes before turning back to Anakin. You hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm... No, I don’t think it’ll be a problem at all.”

Anakin grinned, clearly pleased with your response, and as the two of you walked side by side, the tension between you felt almost tangible. Obi-Wan simply sighed, muttering under his breath, “This is going to be interesting…”

~~~

You, on the other hand? You'd never been one to fall for his escapades. You'd never been one to sneak out of the temple at night to the lower levels, no matter how many of your friends had tried to convince you. Rules were safe.

Safe was good. Safe was alive — and during a war like this one? Alive was something you cherished.

Anakin, on the other hand, seemed to care less about his current status as alive, and it part infuriated, part intrigued you to endless amounts.

You'd be blind to ignore the way he'd matured from 19 to 22. The way his smile made your stomach flip and your body feel warm. The way you secretly enjoyed his incessant following.

It wasn't that he wasn't attractive; it was that for a Jedi to have attachments, you would be breaking your oath. You'd risk the safety and security of the order you'd grown up in.

Still, you gravitated towards each other like the way the sun orbited the planets — far enough away to be safe but never far enough away that you'd lose sight.

Like now, most people in the temple were alseep or off on yet another mission yet you knew he was around. You always knew. Anakin rarely hid his force signature around you, it was like a constant and steady presence brushing against your own in silent question.

He'd always appear if you let him in — on the rare occasion you blocked the feeling he'd sulk but let you be.

You hardly heard his foot steps, the sound of the fountain trickling softly as you felt him near. "You really like it in here." Anakin's lips curled as you turned your head to watch him, his own heart picking up at the sight of you for the first time in weeks.

"I heard your mission went well." He paused besides you, relief almost evident in his tone as you watched the water trickle slowly. "Yeah. No one died which is always a win." Your voice was soft, tired from the constant buzz that was war.

"That's the goal isn't it? Keep people safe, avoid casualties."

You were quiet for a moment, his words filling the air as he glanced at you. "You say that now...but I know you hardly keep yourself safe."

Anakin paused, a eyebrow raising as he pursed his lips in amusement. "Hmm. I guess — maybe I value saving others over myself" He mused eyes flicking around the open space as you bristled slightly. "You have no respect for your own life."

"I'm still here arent i?"

"You get lucky."

"Yeah? I think your glad that i get lucky," Anakin grinned, something more playful now as he turned to face you his arms crossed. "Don't flatter yourself." You watched him from the corner of your eye, one of his hands reaching for a pebble before tossing it into the fountain, before grabbing another and repeating.

"You're not saying no?"

"You're impossible." You couldn't help the way your lips pulled as you shook your head, the familiar back and forth settling like a blanket over you both as he tossed more pebbles, his eyes sliding over to you every so often.

You were both quiet for a moment, the sound of water splashing filling the quiet before he turned to you, a hand running through his hair as he seemed to think for a moment.

"...Did you think about it?"

"I did,"

"And?"

A deep sigh fell from your lips as you felt his eyes follow the way your expression tensed and then fell. "We can't!" His eyebrows furrowed at your words, something like frustration simmering in his stomach at your reply.

"No one has to know." Anakin's voice dropped slightly, something more soothing as his hand reached out to take one of your own, his fingers warm against your cold ones.

"You can't keep ignoring this...ignoring me." His eyes bored into yours as he stepped closer, the distance between you both quickly closing. "I can't ignore it, and I know you can't either," his lips quirked as you sucked in a breath, as if his words pained you.

Because you knew he was right.

"Anakin, it's wrong—"

"Says who?"

You huffed, shaking your head in disbelief as you gestured around with your free hand, "The order! Everyone around us—Anakin, you know it goes against everything we've been told."

Anakin's own breath caught. His grip over your hand tightened as his features darkened at your refusal. He couldn't understand your hesitance; it was far from the worst thing you could be doing as a Jedi— in his mind, at least.

"Well, I don't care what they say is wrong! I won't let them decide this." Something uneasy swirled in his tone, the look on his face one of something bordering on hate as the words fell from his lips like fire.

He was close enough that his chest brushed yours as his other hand tipped your chin up, his gaze softening from the fire you'd seen a moment ago.

"We can figure it out, okay? Just us," Your heart caught at his words, warmth rushing your bones as you felt your defences fall in the same way they always did. You were weak, and he knew it.

"Me and you. That's all that matters."

His lips were on yours before you could even breathe, all thoughts melting from your mind as you pressed into his touch. Any idea of how this could go up in flames seemed to disappear as your world narrowed down to the feel of his hands on your body and his lips against yours.

Anakin continues to listen to your message, keeping the speaker muffled with his hand to preserve the quietness, and even pulling a blanket over him to make sure the light from the holopad isn’t seen. He’s alone in his room and it’s late at night, but he doesn’t want to catch the attention of any jedis up late near his room. 

Anakin didn’t want to admit it to anyone but he was starting to get nervous that he hadn’t heard from you prior to today. It had been a month since you and Master Plo Koon departed from Coruscant and he knew your schedule would be busy on your mission, but still, he had hoped he would’ve heard from you by now, maybe at least just a short message saying you’ve made it and if you were enjoying yourself or not. He had sent a few over the past few weeks, explaining what him and Obi-Wan had been up to, not much admittedly, but he hoped that if he kept you up with his weekly doings, that maybe you would remember to send yours back. 

As the weeks started to pass with no word from you, he started to feel more and more anxious, but the small, rationale part of his brain reminded him that someone on Coruscant would have to know if things went poorly, right? It was surface level mission, more for support and diplomacy, then real hands-on work, so if something did happen Obi-Wan would know and tell him, right?

Thankfully, there was no real concern because when he was doing his readings after dinner tonight, he saw the small red alert in the corner of the screen notifying of the outstanding message, and he felt like he could take a deep breath again. Anakin knew he wouldn’t be able to scurry off so early in the evening to listen to your message, but it was itching at him that he had to wait even longer to hear your voice and your update. Luck continued to be in Anakin’s favor tonight though as it seemed as Obi-Wan was also interested in an early night, and let Anakin head off to his room earlier than usual.

Anakin rushed through his nightly routine so he could hop in bed, pull the blanket over his head, and hit play on his holopad, your voice filling the space underneath the blanket. He leaned his head back with his eyes closed, listening in as you continued on with your stories of this past month. The sprawling greens of the palace, the fountains made of marble and stone flowing with fresh, clean water, and the palace itself, with an uncountable number of rooms, all filled with the most soft and luxurious materials you have ever seen and felt. You even had your own room at this palace, it was nowhere near as luxurious as the royal family’s rooms but you swear that the bed alone in your room was the same size as your whole room back at the temple. 

You sighed happily as you explained that the skies were clear on this planet, no continuous roar of ships filling the skyline like Coruscant, no smog or heavy smell of fuel, just blue skies with a soft sweet breeze, and sometimes, a rare cloudy day. The noisiest part of the palace was the birds, you explained, early in the morning, their calls awakening you for your morning rounds, and the sounds of calls outside of your window every night as the birds settled during the sunset. 

But when the birds were quiet after the sun had settled, and the light had gone dark outside, you could hear the crush of the waves on the shore. You explained to him that initially you hated the early morning shifts for rounds, but within the past week or so, you really grew to love the sounds of the world waking up at the same time as you. Sometimes you would even be up before the birds and would be outside in time to see the initial daybreak across the skyline that alerted the birds.

Anakin was happy to hear about your new adventure and how great the location was, but he couldn’t help the feeling of envy crawling up his spine. He wanted his own adventure like that, he was sold this idea of what a life would be like as a jedi, but for the most part since entering the order, he’s felt trapped within the walls of the temple. How you describe the planet you’re staying on currently reminds of him of his time on Naboo when he was younger during the battle, he itches for that freedom and excitement again. 

He also itches to see Padmé again. As you ramble on about the royal family you are serving, his mind travels to the previous queen of Naboo and what she may be up to now. Is there a possibility of him going to Naboo for diplomatic reasons and seeing her again? The same way you are with your mission? He wouldn’t mind that. Going back to Naboo, showing Padmé the jedi he has become. He had been wanting to keep up to date with the news of Naboo and the new senator, but Obi-Wan’s training schedule has kept him busy.

Your voice brings Anakin back to his surroundings as he listens to you continue on, “I’ve even been able to join the queen and the princess to the town center for their shopping trips, and with the chefs and handmaidens for their trips to farmer’s markets. I haven’t seen anything like it, it’s not like the markets in Coruscant at all. I think you would love it here…I wish you could join me. Maybe I could sneak a few pictures of the grounds to you? Will have to do it when no one’s around though, don’t think I could really explain away why I am taking pictures with my holopad to the rest of the guards or Master Plo Koon.”

Anakin can’t help but close his eyes again and rest his head back as he relaxes in for the night, listening to your voice carry on. Tomorrow morning he’ll regret not pausing your voice message, but for right now, your voice is exactly what he needs to get his first restful night of sleep in a while.

…

*3 months after departure* 

“Ugh Ani,” your groan crackling over the speakers of the holopad, “it’s so boring out here, it’s just round after round, every dayyy-yuh,” Anakin chuckles at the tone of your voice, your message from last night playing as he gets ready for his day on Coruscant. 

“Nothing’s really been happening, every day seems to be the same out here…at least I get some outside time, it seems a lot of their staff is stuck inside with them. None of the royals really seem to leave the palace, it’s like…a rare occasion for them to even go out to their gardens. Which is mind boggling to me, they spend alllll this money on all of these luscious gardens and luxurious items and they don’t even use them a majority of the time.”

Anakin can hear the sounds of your shoes shuffling in what he assumes are loose stones in the background of your call. You continue on, “I will say though, I have gotten closer with some of the princess’s handmaidens and some of the groundskeepers, it seems like a lot of the workers here are very kind.”

You pause, some more shuffling from your feet, and you weren’t wrong, the birds really are loud around you. “I even went on one of my rounds the other night with Sella, she’s one of the princesses’ handmaidens, and at the end of the round, she asked if I had seen the tunnels. And I’m like the tunnels? I had no idea they had existed, but she walked me through this hidden door behind one of the shelves of the hall, and showed me the emblem on the shelves to show which shelves are actually hidden doors. The tunnels were crazy though, there had to be dozens of them that we walked by on the way to the tunnel near my room. Apparently, there are some that lead to the royals’ rooms. It’s good thing I had Sella with me thought, because I could’ve easily gotten lost in the maze they have built within this place.”

“But also, Sella was telling me about this rumor of a hidden hangar under the palace. She had never seen it herself, because I asked if it’s the same as the one we had flown into outside of the grounds, closer to the town, but apparently, along with the hidden hangar there’s also a hidden bunker accessible through the tunnels” your voice pauses over the speaker, before adding “wait, don’t tell anyone I said that though. I told Sella I would keep it a secret…but it’s not like you’re here anyways.”

“but yeah, apparently there’s all of these hidden passageways and tunnels buried all throughout the palace. I only know about the one so far, but Sella said that there’s a lot more, all built to keep the royals safe and to let them escape if there’s ever an attack or something, which makes sense, and you know…it makes sense that everything would have to be kept hush hush.”

“I told Sella though that we have got to get something like this back in the Jedi temple, imagine how easy it would be to sneak out if we had some tunnels? That would be cool huh?” You pause, catching your breath from talking excitedly, but continue on “oh but yeah, as I was saying there’s not much going on around here right now.”

“I feel like most of my work out here has just been being on call, going on rounds, and going to the town for some of the chores, like shopping or picking up their new wardrobe pieces. Which is fine, I guess, at least I’m not just stuck inside all day, but like, I really thought I would be doing something here, not just playing chaperone for these royals. They have their own guards, so it’s not like I’m doing much of the work, I’m just tagging along with their rounds, but they’re kind of jerks. It’s weird, it’s like they don’t even acknowledge the rest of the staff of the palace.”

“I’ve been here, what? A couple of months now? And I swear the handmaidens and groundskeepers are closer to me than they are the guards, and it’s like the guards refuse to even acknowledge them…there’re only a few handmaidens that the guards will talk to or acknowledge more than a grunt. There’s Vitiia and Mala who are the queen’s handmaidens, I think they have been here the longest… and then I know they sometimes will talk to Sella, but when it comes to the caretakers or the groundskeepers, I swear they don’t talk to anyoneee.”

“My friend Anvril, who’s the son of one of the older groundskeepers, said his dad used to be close with some of the guards since they’ve been here for so long, but now? Nothing. It’s just ugh, so weird…”

…

The sun feels warm on your skin this afternoon, but it’s a welcomed change, having been stuck in the palace all morning with Master Plo Koon, working on some trainings and meditations. Not much has been changing on these palace grounds these past couple of months, but going outside at least gives you a break from the cold marble and stone floors and walls inside the palace. 

“Anvril!” you happily call out to your friend from the foot path, spotting Anvril crouched in one of the voluminous flower beds sprawling along the most inner fence of the palace walls. His head whips to stare at you, eyes wide.

“Stars above, you scared me…” Anvril sighs standing up and stepping away from the fence, he looks around dusting his hands off on his pants, “what are you doing out here? You and the guards out on a round?” He steps out of the flower bed and crosses the manicured lawn to meet you on the stone pathway, his eyes scanning the area.

“Oh no,” you wave your hand at him absentmindedly, “just me out here.” You don’t notice how Anvril’s shoulders seem to relax, “my Master got pulled into a meeting with the royal guards and told me to go do a quick round…so that’s what I’m up to.”

You look around him, peering at the bag of tools near the fence and then back up at him, “what are you up to?”

Anvril scratches the back his neck, looking between you and the bag, before sighing out and saying “uh, my dad mentioned that there seems to be a rodent problem on the grounds again, so he’s been having me…check for weaknesses in the fences.”

“Really?” You ask a bit incredulously, “I haven’t seen anything.”

“Ah well, you know, you’ve been on the morning route recently, and these rodents…well they seem to be coming out more right after dusk.”

“Right, yeah” you nod, “huh, well, better you than me.” You laugh up at Anvril before adding, “I don’t really like rodents, there was a small cluster of mites in the temple once, and I swear we could hear the scurrying all night…woke up and there was one in my bed, blegh.” Anvril laughs alongside with you at your anecdote and miming.

…

*7 months after departure*

“Hey Ani,” He hears your voice and then some shuffling around in the background, “sorry I haven’t been sending as many messages, everything is still fine here…well I guess kind of fine. I don’t really know.”

“We had to close the gates to the town center recently, and there’s been some more guards put in place along the fences, and even some guards on rounds now, which is kind of annoying because they’re always just awkwardly walking behind me…but that’s beside the point, Master Plo Koon told me there’s some fears of civil unrest starting to spark up in the town, and I even overheard from the guards that there’s a suspected terrorist group in town now.”

“Nothing’s really happened so they can’t do anything about it yet, but we’ve pretty much been locked down in the palace yards now…which I guess is fine all things considered. Like if I am going to be stuck somewhere, it might as well be a palace, right?”

“I feel like even the royals are starting to get antsy being stuck here, I would like never see them before, and now? Even the king and queen are doing rounds around the greens…which don’t tell anyone I said this” you pause, your voice lowering a bit before continuing “but it’s so annoying because when they’re out no one’s allowed to do anything fun out there. Like it’s bad enough when the guards are out on ‘rounds’ and lurking around the greens too, but at least they’re cool with giving me space and we all kind of do our thing in our own areas, but when the royal family is out? Everyone has to stop what they are doing to keep an eye on them.”

“The first time I noticed they were out on a walk, well it was technically before I even noticed, I was doing my normal route on the stone path following the path a snail was taking, and Master Plo Koon literally had to grab my shoulder and pull me back before I accidentally walked into their group of guards surrounding, but like how was I supposed to know out of the almost year we’ve been out here, that that would be the first day they choose to go outside? And in my path no less? Ugh.”

“The princess comes out sometimes too, and she’s pretty nice, a little weird, but it’s fine I guess, it’s nice to have to someone who’s not old to chat to every once in a while…I’ll keep you updated on anything else going on around here though. Fingers crossed something cool happens and I can finally show all of these boring old guards my training.”

A/n: So this is the first 'x reader' thing i've ever written. Fox brainrot is real guys, couldn't escape it. Was this supposed to be a one-shot? yes. Is it a one-shot? not really, i'm pretty much setting up possible follow-ups. Am I gonna write said follow-ups? ...maybe.

Title is from Terrified by Vincent Lima - which is sooo Fox-coded in my opinion 😭 3rd image is a painting by Miguel Dominguez Cody's scar origin is from this video that I loved so fucking much, I had to adopt the headcanon too.

ori'vod - older brother ; vod'ika - little sister vod - brother ; vode - brothers cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling mesh’la - beautiful osik - crap, shit shabuir - extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger Shab kyr’unsen’ye - made this up to mean 'fuck off and die'

~~~

The senator grips your arm in a way that causes your face to briefly scrunch in disgust, but there’s nothing you can do besides quickly schooling your expression back to a neutral one. Your eyes search through the crowd of elegantly dressed sentients, franticly trying to find anyone that could help get you out of this uncomfortable situation. You see your Master – Obi-Wan is all the way on the other side of the grandiose event hall, engrossed in what appears to be quite a serious conversation with Master Windu. Or, it might as well be idle chitchat about the weather – you can never tell when it comes to the Council Member.

Your eyes keep shifting through the crowd, scanning for orange-painted palstoid – if Obi-Wan can’t help you, maybe your ori’vod can. But any hope of securing help from the Commander dissolves in a second. Cody seems to be in just as bad of a situation, standing next to Rex and surrounded by a group of wealthy socialites you know they are supposed to impress – that’s the point of this whole damn gala isn’t it? showing off the Republic’s perfect soldiers and gathering more funds for this never-ending war. You catch his gaze and faintly tilt your head towards the man still holding onto your arm, allowing a barely visible eye roll to communicate you disdain. Cody’s shrugs and nods, his movements just as discreet – he knows exactly how it feels. Your attention is then caught by the same speech you’ve heard at least five times tonight.

“And she is the first Jedi Master that our planet has had in 200 years. We could not be more proud of all her accomplishments”, the senator exclaims.

“Padawan”, you correct, “I have not yet passed my Trials”. How many times do you need to explain it to this man?

“Right, of course. We’re still so, so proud”.

The mixed group of men and women nod, and a few flashes from the holo-cameras make you recoil – journalists form your homeworld, the senator explained earlier. You don’t understand why he insists on having so many pictures of the two of you taken, but you bite your tongue and play your part, praying to the Force you’ll finally be able to escape his grasp soon. You take a sip of the sparkling chandrillan wine you’re holding – you are so over this whole evening.

The Force finally seems to take pity on you – a man in expensive-looking robes calls the senator’s name and he finally releases your arm in order to shake his hand. With a curtly muttered “excuse me just a moment” you hurry away, making a beeline for the nearest balcony door. The room feels stuffy and you desperately need some air. As you move through the crowd, you slightly roll your ankle and curse under your breath – what in the hell possessed you to wear heels? – but nevertheless you carry on.

As soon as the door shuts, you lean against its coloured transparisteel, close your eyes and finally breathe out a sigh of relief. The night air is chilly, the sun having long disappeared past the horizon, and it feels soothing against your heated cheeks. You did not think you’d have to stay for so long, but the damn party just won’t end. Maybe you’ll be able to hide out here for the rest of it.

“You alright?”, a deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open.

Turning your head to your right, you notice a man leaning against the durasteel railing and you feel your heart skip a beat. He is a clone – Coruscant Guard by the looks of his armor, but he’s just so…

The clone’s hair is drizzled by streaks of grey and there’s a prominent scar across the bridge of his nose. There seem to be more scars scattered on his face, but in the faint, reddish light coming through the transparisteel, you cannot make out that much detail. Smoke is enveloping him, and your eyes travel down to the lit cigarra in his hand. An empty glass sits next to him on the railing, only two cubes of slowly melting ice remaining on the bottom. Another details grabs your attention – the kama. You’re pretty sure you’re looking at a Commander. Now if you could figure out which one.

The man cocks his head to the side, an amused expression sparkling in his eyes. Right… he asked you a question and all you’ve done is stare at him – you might as well be drooling. Get a grip.

Straightening, you turn to face him better. “Yes. I just really needed some air… and to escape some unwanted attention”, you confess.

“Senator Brenko”, the clone nods, an understanding passing over his facial features.

“Yeah… how did you know?”

“It’s my job to pay attention”, he says dryly, taking a drag out of the cigarra.

Your eyes involuntarily track the movement, focusing on the way his lips enclose around it. Suddenly, your throat feels really dry, so you down the last of the sparkling wine in your glass. Maybe that wasn’t the best decision – it was not your first glass of the night and you’re starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. But it’s not enough. The past hours of being paraded around by the senator have left you restless and irritated, and you’re craving something to take the edge off.

Slowly, you walk to the railing and place your empty glass next to his, then eye the cigarra which is back between his lips. You promised Cody you were done with tabac… but one cigarra every now and then can’t hurt, right?

“Do you have another one of those?”

A small smirk tugs at the clone’s lips as he reaches for one of the pouches on his belt, procuring a pack of cigarras and tilting it towards you. You take one out of the pack, bringing it up to your nose to inhale its aroma before placing it between your lips. The clone then takes out a small, metallic lighter, igniting the flame and holding it out in front if you. The normal thing to do would be to simply lean in, but for some reason, your hand gently grasps his, bringing it closer in order to light the cigarra, your gaze lifting to meet his as you do so. You’re not sure if he minds – his face remains impassive, but you do catch the way his posture slightly tenses at your touch.

“Thank you, Commander…?”, you prompt, exhaling the first puff of burning smoke.

“Fox”, the clone replies, standing a bit taller.

Your eyebrows briefly lift up. The Commander Fox, head of the Coruscant Guard.

You’ve heard plenty about him from Cody – mostly complaints. Then again, Cody might still be slightly bitter about that scar on his face, courtesy of a very drunk Fox one night at the 79s. You weren’t there to witness it, but Boil has provided a very detailed retelling. The words “miserable asshole” have also been thrown around – that one was Wolffe’s description. Cody’s main grievance, however, is Fox pulling away from them for what he considers no good reason, and how impossible it is to get to talk to his brother.

Rex, on the other hand, always tries to defend Fox whenever he comes up in conversation at the 79s, especially after Wolffe has had a few drinks and starts tearing into him. You’ve heard so many contradictory accounts of the man standing in front of you, you have no idea what to make of him.

Safe to say, you are intrigued.

“Nice to meet you, Commander. I’m–”

“Cody’s Padawan. I know”, Fox interjects, his eyes giving you a once-over.

“Cody’s Padawan?”, you repeat with a chuckle. “I don’t think Master Kenobi would agree with that statement”

“Just clone-talk”, he shrugs.

You narrow your eyes. You really, really shouldn’t meddle in their relationship – it’s not your place. But Cody is important to you – he is your ori’vod after all – and you’ve seen how much Fox’s gradual disappearance has been weighing on him. What the hell. You’re feeling bold tonight anyway.

“That implies you and Cody talk, and I know for a fact you do not pick up his comms”, you jab, taking a slow drag of the cigarra.

All amusement seems to disappear from his eyes and his gaze turns cold. You don’t falter – you square your shoulders and stare him down, making it very clear you’re expecting a reply.

“I’m busy”, he mumbles.

“Cody’s busy too”, you counter, “but he still makes time to comm his brothers”.

Fox’s jaw clenches and his eyes dart to the door of the balcony. For a moment you think you’ve offended him so much that he’s going to leave and you’re about to open your mouth to apologise, only to be stopped by a low, defeated sigh. Fox tosses the nearly-finished cigarra into his empty glass, the ambers fizzling out as they touch the melted ice. He pulls another one from his pouch, lights it, and shifts his stance, resting his forearms against the railing.

“Well, busy looks different on Coruscant”, he says, gaze lost to the skyline.

He sounds so tired and for some reason your heart breaks for him. You have seen your fair share of the ugliness of Coruscant – and if you’re honest you’ve never really liked it here. An uncomfortable feeling of guilt stirs in your stomach. You do not know this man and you do not know what he has to deal with on a daily basis. All you know is what other people have told you and their retellings are clouded by personal feelings. Maybe you were too quick to judge.

“This place does fucking suck”, you comment, leaning back on the railing.

Fox huffs a small laugh and turns his head to look at you. “Is that the kind of language they teach at that Temple of yours?”.

You roll your eyes. “My master had a very colourful way of expressing herself. My first Master, that is. She died at the beginning of the war – it’s how I ended up in the 212th”, you explain, smiling ruefully at his muttered condolences. “Obi-Wan would probably have a stroke if he heard me”.

“Don’t think Cody would be too pleased either”, he adds.

“Really? Cause he’s the one who taught me how to swear in Mando’a”, you lie, wanting to gauge how well he knows his brother.

“Cody?”, he asks, giving you a look.

“Yes, Cody”, you affirm.

“Not a chance. I do not believe that for a second”.

You genuinely laugh and shake your head. “Fine”, you admit, “it was actually some of the boys from the 501st”.

“That I can believe”, the Commander nods. There’s a pause in the conversation as both of you gather your thoughts. Before you can find the next thing to say, he continues. “What’s your favourite then?”

You mull it over, going through the words and phrases you know. “Not sure if I have a favourite, but ‘Shab kyr’unsen’ye’ was pretty much all I had in my head earlier”, you say, gesturing to the door of the balcony with the hand holding the cigarra. “Honestly you should get a medal just for dealing with these fuckers every day”.

Fox arches a brow, that spark of amusement back in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. Esteemed fuckers”, you correct.

The Commander laughs – actually laughs – something that, based on everything you’ve heard about him, you didn’t think was possible. “I see why Cody likes you”.

You join in on the laughter, before adding, “no but really, how do you deal with them every single day? I’ve only spent time with one tonight and I was ready to commit murder after only 15 minutes”.

“Honestly?”, Fox says, taking a long drag of the cigarra, “I tune out most of what they say”.

“Really?”.

“Really”, he confirms. “They just like to hear themselves talk, they’re never really looking for a reply – it would interrupt their monologues. I’m sure you’ve noticed – did Brenko let you get a single word in?”.

“Not really”, you contemplate. “And I’ve even corrected him on something at least five times”.

“How dare you ruin his campaign?”, Fox jokes.

You frown, confusion clearly written on your face. “What campaign?”.

The Commander straightens, turning to face you better. “The re-election campaign. His term as a senator is almost over. I assumed that’s why he was parading you around all night – trying to imply he has the support of the Jedi”.

Your entire body tenses as a wave of anger violently crashes over you. “That… that fucking shabuir. Of course he was just using me, I should’ve realised”. Shaking your head, you let out a sharp exhale. “You know that could actually get me in trouble? I’m a Jedi, I’m not supposed to support anyone’s fucking political campaign. Fucking bastard!”.

Finishing your cigarra, you throw it into the empty glass next to his earlier one. You’re already imagining having to explain yourself in front of the Council, and the disappointed looks you will receive. Why did you always have to be so polite? You should’ve said no to the holo-photos. You shouldn’t have let him drag you around and introduce you to all those people. You should’ve told him not to touch you. Your gaze lifts and you suddenly realise the Commander is studying you intently. Was your outburst too much? Heat rises to your cheeks and you quickly look away.

“Sorry”, you mumble.

“Why are you apologising?”, Fox asks, eyebrows pinching.

“For getting so angry. Not very Jedi-like”, you laugh bitterly.

The Commander shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s adorable – you actually think that was angry”, he teases.

You swear your heart does a somersault at hearing he thinks you’re adorable and you shuffle awkwardly in place, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot. The movement reminds you that your feet are killing you and you once again curse your decision to wear heels. You need to sit down for a moment.

Placing your hands on either side of your hips on the durasteel railing, you push yourself up to sit. Before you're even fully settled, a strong hand encircles your waist, steadying you with a firm hold at the small of your back. Your brain takes a second to process what’s happening – his hand on your lower back feels as if it's burning, filling you with a warmth that seems to unfortunately travel to your core. He’s close now, too close, and his whiskey-coloured eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m not gonna fall, Commander”, you say once you regain your composure, your voice a little strained but mixed with amusement.

“Don’t want to risk it. Cody would have my head if I let anything happen to you. And that is quite a drop”, he remarks.

“Yeah but I’m a Jedi”, you scoff playfully. “Even if I fall I’d be able to use the Force and land safely”.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t fall”, Fox reiterates.

His hand is still on your back, and it doesn’t seem he’ll move it away any time soon. You’re not sure why, but you want to test him. Maintaining eye contact, you allow a small, mischievous smile to grace your features, right before you abruptly push back against his hand. As expected, you barely budge.

“Don’t!”, Fox warns, his voice low and commanding.

You roll your eyes, trying your hardest to ignore the dampness in your underwear. Maker why do you find him so hot?

“Fine, fine, I’ll behave”, you promise, “You can let go now”.

“I’ll let go when your feet are back on the ground”, he counters.

“Are you serious?”, you laugh.

The look he gives you silences you immediately. He is, actually, dead serious. You bite your lip and look away. The warmth of his hand, even though the fabric of his gloves, is extremely distracting.

“Well then, Commander, I hope you’re comfortable. My feet are killing me and I plan to sit here for a while”, you challenge.

“I’m fine, don’t worry”, he replies. His tone is infuriatingly casual.

Silence settles over the two of you and you don’t know which part drives you more mad – his hand on your back, his thighplate pressed against you knee, his intense gaze or the way he appears completely unfazed by any of it. You try to keep your face neutral and your breathing steady, but you simply can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when Fox finishes his cigarra and leans over you to toss it in the empty glass, briefly caging you in. For a second, you think you see his gaze dropping to your lips and you curse yourself when your own eyes wonder to his.

You shouldn’t be thinking like this – it would be wrong on so many levels. Maybe you both share the same rank, but he’s a clone, a soldier, and you’re a Jedi – it’s simply not allowed. Plus, he is Cody’s brother, and not just in the way all clones are vode – Fox and Cody were batchmates, they grew up together, their bond is different. Cody would not approve. And you’re fairly certain it’s all in your head anyway. But even if you weren’t imagining the tension, even if Fox somehow felt it too, it wouldn’t change the fact that it was forbidden.

“Would you really get in trouble?”, Fox breaks the silence.

“W-What?”, you stutter.

“For those holo-pics with Brenko”, he clarifies.

You jolt, pulling yourself together. “Uhh, depends how they’ll use them, I guess”.

Fox appears to contemplate something before giving you a stern look. “Do not move!”, he orders.

All you can do is nod.

His hand finally leaves your back, coming to tap the comm on his vambrace. You almost whine at the loss of his warmth, but catch yourself before making a sound. Maker, what has gotten into you?

“Stone, come in”, Fox speaks into the comm.

“Yes, vod”, a voice replies in less than five seconds.

“The journalists following Brenko around – say there’s a problem with their accreditations and confiscate the holo-cams. Return them after you delete all images with General Kenobi’s Padawan”, he orders, eyes not leaving yours as he does so.

“Understood”.

Your lips part as you realise he’s about to save your ass without you even asking and a warm feeling blooms in your chest. “Are you allowed to do that?”, you manage to utter.

“I’m the commanding officer of the Coruscant Guard”, he says, a small smirk breaking through his mask of professionalism.

“Yeah, but freedom of the press and all that”, you argue weakly.

“The press needs the proper accreditations. They have it to document the gala, not to participate in a political campaign”

“Isn’t that stretching the truth?”

“That’s playing their game, cyar’ika”, Fox declares, his tone of voice bordering on teasing.

Your cheeks immediately heat up – you know what the Mando’a term means. “Thank you, Commander. You, uhh… you’re a lifesaver”, you reply with a small, embarrassed chuckle.

His eyes soften and he smiles, and this time you’re certain – he does glance at your lips. He’s still so close, he could just lean in. You want him to lean in… His eyes quickly return to yours but you saw it clearly and your heart begins to race. Without thinking, you tilt your head up, and you hear him inhale sharply.

Before either of you can make another move, a couple of raindrops land on your forehead and shoulder. You both look up. A thick layer of black clouds covers the night sky and the faint rumbling of thunder reverberates through the air. The raindrops keep falling, quickly multiplying, and Fox curses under his breath. It was already a chilly night, and with the rain now pouring down, it’ll only get colder.

“We should get you back inside”, the Commander voices.

You shake your head. “I cannot go back in there; I just can’t stand it anymore”.

His head turns to the balcony door, his eyebrows furrowing in thought. Whatever he’s thinking seems to make him tense; you notice his fist clenching and unclenching. However, any sign of tension disappears before he turns back to you, his expression carefully composed.

“Come on”, he says, his hand settling on your back again, gently coaxing you to jump down from the railing with a soft, guiding pressure.

“But–”, you begin to protest.

“Once we’re in, head right and stay close to the wall. I’ll cover your flank so the senator can’t approach you again. We’ll slip out through one of the side doors and go to the Guard HQ”, he instructs, picking up his helmet from the floor and securing it in place. His voice takes on the same commanding tone you've heard his brothers use countless times during briefings.

You hesitate for a moment, considering all the implications. But what’s the alternative? Stay out in the cold rain or go back inside only to be used as a prop by the senator? Simply heading to their HQ doesn’t mean anything – he’ll probably take you to the mess hall or maybe a break room, like the ones you’ve been in countless times aboard the Negotiator or at the base on Coruscant. You’ve been enjoying his company, and if you’re honest, you want to spend more time with him.

Deciding to trust him, you nod and follow his instructions. The heavy air hits you as soon as you step inside and the general noise of voices, laughter and music is overwhelming. You move quickly, not wishing to spend a minute longer in this large, overcrowded space, and as promised, Fox walks right beside you, blocking you with his large body from anyone’s prying eyes. His hand presses against the small of your back on a few, brief occasions, as he steers you through the crowd and towards a concealed door, which he opens with the help of an access card.

You’ve been in the Senate building before, but never walked these maintenance corridors. Fox guides you, his fingers brushing yours as he walks by your side down the stairs. Your heart races every time you feel the contact and you tilt your head to look at him a few times, but his face is safely hidden behind his helmet.

The Coruscant Guard compound sits just behind the Senate building, appearing separate but connected through a network of underground tunnels. You’ve never been here – never had a reason why – and you find yourself looking around and taking in every detail. Although, there isn’t really that much to take in, as it has the same cold, utilitarian architecture of the main base.

As you walk quietly beside Fox, you begin to feel out of place – though, funnily enough, your attire matches the Corrie’s colour scheme. The shock troopers you pass nod at their Commander but always do a double take when they see you. You’re starting to wonder if coming here was a mistake.

Fox leads you to the turbolisfts, then to one of the upper levels and down a couple of corridors until you are stood in front of the door to an office – the door to his office. He opens it and gestures for you to go in first. The room is small and very minimalist – there’s one desk and chair, one file cabinet and a worn-down couch. The desk is full of datapads and flimsi files and the sheer amount of work looks overwhelming, yet somehow everything is neatly arranged and stacked.

You pause in the doorway for a second, but your feet really are killing you, so you plop down on the couch, kicking your heels off with a dramatic sigh. You hear a chuckle as Fox walks over to his desk and takes his helmet off and you want to make a snarky comment, but the words get stuck in your throat. You take a moment to study him better, the brighter lights of his office allowing you to see more of the scars on his face, the bags under his eyes and the silver strands in his hair. You’ve always found the clones attractive, but Maker, there was something about Fox that was hitting you harder than ever before.

The Commander is also observing you and a self-satisfied smirk breaks through his mask of composure.

“Like what you see?”, he teases, crossing his arms over his chest.

A “yes” escapes your lips before you can stop it and your eyes go wide at the realisation of what you just admitted. “T-The paint job”, you then blurt out, as if that would somehow save it.

“The paint job?”, he repeats, thoroughly amused.

“Mhmm”, you hum, the sound coming out strained. “Cause most of the Guard troopers I’ve seen have the-the red on the chest plate and the white is-and you know, nice choice having it the other way around”. The words spew out with a rapid flow and you cringe internally.

“Glad you approve”, Fox bites back a laugh.

You give him a look before you throw your head back, starring at the durasteel ceiling and cursing the stream of stupidity that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want a drink?”, he asks.

“Yes, please”, you nod, meeting his amused gaze again.

Fox crouches down and procures a bottle or corellian whiskey and a glass from the lower drawers of the cabinet. You watch intently, your gaze following every motion as he pours the amber liquid. The Commander then walks over to the couch and hands the glass to you, clinking the bottle against it before taking a swing directly out of it. A laugh escapes your lips at the sight.

“Only have one glass”, he shrugs before sitting down next to you.

“So you usually drink alone?”, you ask, voice playful. “That’s a bit sad, Commander”.

Fox huffs a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “You can drop the ‘commander’, you know?”, he says instead of answering your question.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away, taking a sip of the whiskey. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat and you cough – it’s stronger than what you usually drink. You really should put a stop to this.

“Alright… Fox”, you say.

You glance back at him, heart beating faster. Fox closes his eyes, almost as if he’s savouring the way his name sounded as it left your lips. When he opens them again, the look he gives you is different, hungrier, and it sets a slow burn alight in your core. You should get up and leave, take yourself out of this inappropriate situation, but instead, you shift in your seat to face him better.

“So”, you start sweetly, pausing to sip your whiskey, “tell me something about yourself”.

He takes another swing of the bottle before placing it on the floor next to the couch. “What do you want to know?”

You have no idea what compels you to do it, but your hand moves on its own, cupping his face. Your thumb gently brushes over the scar at the corner of his mouth. “How’d you get this?”, you ask.

His eyes flick down to your hand, then back to yours and you can feel his jaw clenching as he sharply inhales. “Careful, mesh’la”, he rasps, “you might make me do something we’ll both regret”.

“I wouldn’t regret it”, you whisper.

“You’re drunk. You would regret it”, he insists, his voice coming out strained.

“I’m not that drunk, Fox”, you counter. “I know what I want”.

He stares you down, his expression unreadable, and your boldness begins to falter. You try to pull your hand away, but before you can, he catches it, holding it firmly in place against his face. You can almost see the internal conflict behind his eyes. Slowly, he tilts his head and presses a kiss to your wrist. His lips feel so soft, so warm, and goosebumps appear on your skin in anticipation. But then – he lets go of your hand.

The disappointment is fleeting. Fox takes your glass, downs the whiskey in one go, and sets it on the floor. Then, he moves closer, devouring you with his eyes. The look is electric and it sends a shiver directly to your core. When he cups your face, your breath hitches, quickens. You are completely at his mercy – if only he would just kiss you already.

“Please don’t regret this”, he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.   

The raw vulnerability in his tone catches you off guard and your heart clenches. “I won’t. I promise”.

The last of Fox’s self-restraint finally breaks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss – slow, tentative, sweet. Not at all what you expected. You thought he would be rougher, demanding, but the way he takes his time, the gentleness of his lips – it’s endearing, but also maddening, and it fills you with need. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer and his other hand settles on your hip. You want more of him – you need more of him – and so you deepen the kiss. Your tongue brushes past his lips and he groans, his grip on you tightening. Somehow, he tastes like caf, even though what you expected was tabac and whisky.

The kiss becomes hungrier, more desperate, and you start to suspect that Fox needs this even more than you do. His hand leaves your hip and starts exploring your body as he guides you down onto the couch. He’s caging you in now, his large frame looming over you – it’s intoxicating really. He breaks the kiss in order to pull back slightly, finding your eyes.

“Is this okay?”, Fox asks.

“Yes!”, you reply, eager for him to continue.

You pull him back to you and feel him smile against your lips. The need for more pours into the kiss – you’re really worked up now – and your hands roam over his chesplate then up to his shoulders, fumbling to find the latches and get it off. It is not an easy task.

“Do you need help there?”, Fox chuckles against your lips

“I need you out of the armor”, you whine.

“Maybe if you asked nicely”, he teases, his lips trailing down your neck.

You tilt your head in order to give him better access, and moan when you feel his teeth scrape on your pulse point. The feeling is so exquisite you almost forget what you wanted. However, the hard plastoid pressing down on your chest quickly reminds you of your wish.

“Fox”, you breathe, “please take it off”.

Fox smirks and sits back on his knees, his eyes not leaving yours as he expertly sheds his upper armor with impressive speed. He leans back in, more urgent this time, kissing you deeply. You immediately take advantage, gliding your hands over the planes of his chest. The fabric of his blacks feels smooth against your palms, but you yearn to feel his warm skin. Slowly, your hands make their way down to his belt, pulling at the material tucked in, and Fox pauses the kiss to assist you in taking his top off.

You take a moment to admire him, your fingers gently tracing over the scars scattered across his chest. Your eyes then land on a bruise on the left side of his waist – it's the size of your fist, fresh and a dark purple with yellowish-green edges. Concern flashes in your gaze as you meet his eyes.

“Incident on the lower levels last week”, he answers your silent question.

“Are you alright to continue? That looks painful”, you ask, the worry in your voice genuine.

“I’m fine, mesh’la, don’t worry”, he reassures you with a soft smile.

He doesn’t give you too much time to keep thinking about it – his lips crash into yours, kissing you with a renewed hunger. He then trails down, nipping at the skin on your throat and chest. One of your hands tangles in his hair, pulling his greying curls gently, an action that makes him moan. He pulls back, staring intently in your eyes as his hand comes to cup your breast. Your soft moans encourage him to continue and he pushes the material of your dress and bra to the side. Your nipple pebbles as the cool air of his office brushes against it and Fox sees it as an invitation to lean in and close his lips around it. His tongue swipes over the hardened bud, and the whimpers falling from your lips only spur him on.

You hook a leg around him, drawing him closer as he moves to the other breast. You hiss at the contact with the hard plastoid of his codpiece, your core aching with need. His hand slides on your thigh, pushing at the hem of your dress.

“You’re wearing too much fabric”, he groans, lifting his head from your breasts.

“What’s stopping you from taking it off?”, you purr.

His hands find the zipper and pull it down, and you shift your body to assist him in freeing you from the dress and bra.

“You’re so beautiful”, he murmurs, eyes raking over your naked form under him. You bite your lip as heat darkens your cheeks.

He throws the garments somewhere on the floor before his mouth claims your breasts again, sucking a mark on the left one. His lips then continue down your abdomen, every kiss and bite sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you. When he finally reaches your center, you’re dripping wet, and Fox curses under his breath as he pulls your underwear to the side and sees your arousal. His eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod eagerly, not trusting yourself to speak.

His hands spread your legs a little wider and he impatiently dives in, his warm tongue sliding though your folds. A loud, needy moan sounds from the back of your throat, and your head falls against the armrest of the couch. Your eyes are squeezed shut and all you can focus on is the pure pleasure that his lips and tongue elicit as they flick over your clit. Slowly, you start grinding on his face, helping him find a rhythm that makes you head spin.

You gasp when his fingers find your entrance. He slips two of them inside in a slow, maddening pace, stopping his attention to your clit for a just a moment in order to gauge your reaction.

“Don’t stop”, you manage to whimper, not even caring how needy you must sound.

Fox chuckles – a low, self-satisfied sound that reverberates through your core. He resumes his earlier assault on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you in a faster pace at the same time. Your hands tangle in his hair again, pulling sharply on the strands. He moans at the pain, and the sound only increases your pleasure.

His fingertips find a spot that makes you cry out and you’re desperately grinding against him. You’re so close, the pressure is building and you squeeze your thighs around his head instinctively. Pleasure overtakes your senses and it only keeps increasing with every pump of his fingers and lick of tongue. You're so, so close now – the damn is about to break. And then he stops, swiftly pulling the digits out of you.

“Fox!”, you shout, the indignation in your voice sharp as all pleasure dissipates.

“Sorry cyar'ika”, he laughs, “but I want to be inside of you when you come”.

“I could've done that after. There was no need to stop now”, you whine in protest.

“It's more fun this way”, Fox teases as he gets up and begins removing the rest of his armor.

“You are such an asshole”, you mumble under your breath.

The smirk he gives you is so disarming, you’re glad you’re already laying down. “Someone must've warned you about that before”.

“Well maybe I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt”, you bite back.

“You should believe everything you've heard about me”, Fox declares, now standing before you in nothing but his underwear. “Especially the bad things”.

Your gaze falls to the outline of his erection, lingering on the way it strains against the fabric of his boxers. The sight sends a wave of heat through your body, reigniting the desire simmering in your core. You bite your lip – he is big and you can already imagine how he’ll feel inside of you. You swallow, your mind racing in anticipation of what will come next. He pulls the boxers down, letting his cock spring free, and your eyes go wide.

“If you’re done ogling, I’d like to continue”, he taunts.

“I am not ogling!”, you exclaim, a bit defensive.

“You are definitely ogling”, he says with a smirk as he climbs back on top of you. “Drooling a little too”.

You playfully slap his chest with the back of your hand, trying to give him a dirty look, but the smile frozen on your lips betrays you. It seems you do enjoy his teasing. His lips find yours again, and any indignation you felt from earlier immediately melts away. You wrap your arms around his back, nails scraping his skin in response to his erection pressing against your clit. He swallows your moans and pushes his tongue into your mouth, filling it with the unexpected taste of your arousal.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, Fox pulls away to ask, the tip of his cock positioned at your entrance.

“Yes”, you nod eagerly. “I want this – I want you”.

 His eyes darken and the look he gives you is almost possessive. Slowly, he sinks in, and you gasp at the stretch. You look into his eyes as he gradually bottoms out, lost in their mesmerising amber hue. A sudden wave of panic violently crashes over you – you’ve been around so many troopers before, yet you've never felt like this. It's overwhelming, terrifying... and yet, you don't want it to stop.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”, Fox groans, the awe in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“You feel amazing”, you respond, the words coming out strained.

Fox pulls almost all the way out, before sharply snapping his hips back into you. The cry that leaves your lips echoes around the room and, based on the smile on his lips, gives him immense pleasure. His lips claim yours again, as he thrusts harder, faster, driving all coherent thought from your mind. All you can sense, all you can feel – it’s him. Fox consumes you completely – he is everything you taste, everything you smell, everything you see and hear.

Your breasts bounce with each sharp thrust and Fox brings a hand up to cup one of them, pinching the nipple between his fingers. The extra stimulation is almost too much and you moan as you feel your peak quickly approaching. A thought crosses your mind – maybe you shouldn’t be so loud; but that is easier said than done.

“You’re… you’re taking me so well, mesh’la”, Fox rasps, voice rough with effort. “Fuck! It’s… it’s like you were made for me. So perfect, you’re perfect”.

You try to speak, but no words come to you. The tip of his cock hits that spot inside of you just right, and every thrust of his hips brings you closer and closer to your release.

“What is it, mesh’la? Use your words”, Fox teases, noticing the crease in your brows.

Your mouth opens and closes silently a couple of times before you finally find your voice. “Don’t stop”, you beg. “Please, Fox, please don’t stop”.

The sound he makes almost sounds like a growl and it sends a visible shiver across your body. Fox presses his forehead to yours, grunting as he forces himself to maintain the same pace. Your hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit, and you begin circling it with quick, urgent motions. It doesn’t take long for the coil to snap – your back arches as your walls contract around his length, and your climax washes over you in powerful waves.

The sounds you make and the sight of you writhing beneath him soon push him over the edge. With a low grunt, Fox quickly pulls out, spilling his release across your stomach. He collapses on top of you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck, and you tightly wrap your arms around his still-trembling body.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay like that – lost in each other’s embrace, catching your breath. It feels peaceful, natural, almost necessary. You stroke his hair, savouring the way his arms pull you closer, how he nuzzles your neck. Honestly, this might even be better than the sex. When he finally pulls away, the look he gives you is reverent, and he leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’ll be right back”, he says as he gets up.

Fox disappears into the small fresher attached to his office, returning shortly after with a damp towel in hand. He sits down beside you, and with slow, deliberate movements, he carefully wipes his release from your stomach. You mumble some thanks, your gaze lost to a random point on the ceiling as your mind races with a thousand thoughts.

“What’s on your mind?”, Fox asks, his voice cautions.

“Uhm…”, you hesitate, sheepishly meeting his gaze. “Cody’s gonna kill me”.

“You plan on telling him?”, he questions. “Cause I sure as hell won’t”.

You shake your head and exhale deeply. “He’ll know – he always just knows somehow”.

“As far as he’s aware, we don’t even know each other”, Fox counters, his hand resting on your hip. “I think we’re safe”.

“Hope you’re right”.

Fox huffs a small, bitter laugh. “So you regret it then?”.

Your eyes snap to him, and the resigned expression on his face breaks your heart. “No!”, you exclaim, sitting up and taking his hand. “Absolutely not, that was amazing. Honestly, 10 out of 10”.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Very funny”.

“What?”

“My CC number”, he says. You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowed in confusion. “My designation? CC-1010?”, he adds.

“You’re kidding”. You try your best to stifle your laugh at the serious look he gives you. “Very fitting then”, you manage between giggles.

Fox shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re terrible”.

“That’s not what you said earlier”, you tease. “I think the word you used was… perfect?”.

“Get dressed”, Fox orders, trying to keep from smiling. “We’re going to the mess to get some food”.

“Yes, Commander”, you purr, earning another eye roll.

Unbeknownst to you, Cody has been trying to speak to Fox all night. Besides a brief holo-call a couple of months back and a short meeting last leave, he hasn’t seen his brother in ages and really hoped the gala would give them the opportunity to catch up. Unfortunately, he kept getting stopped by senators and wealthy donors, and pulled into long, tedious conversations. He lost track of Fox at one point, and by the time he managed to slip away, he couldn’t find him anywhere.

Cody did find Thorn, who told him that, considering how much Fox hates these events, he probably went back to his office to get some work done. So the Corrie Commander lead Cody back to their HQ, but when they reached Fox’s office, they were stopped from knocking by the muffled, yet very distinctive noises coming from inside.

The two commanders shared a look, completely shocked by what they were hearing. The fact that Fox would be fucking someone in his office – in the Guard HQ – it was unbelievable. They stepped back and leaned against the wall, trying to figure out who could possibly be inside with their brother.

A senator? Impossible, according to Thorn – Fox hates senators. An aide? Unlikely for the same reason. One of the waitresses? Maybe.

Thorn was curious and adamant about waiting to see who will come out of the office. And Cody – well, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some dirt on his brother.

So unfortunately for you, the moment the door swishes open and you step outside, your eyes lock immediately with Cody’s.

His mouth falls open as he tries to process what he’s seeing – who he’s seeing. Your eyes go wide – almost as wide as his – and you instinctively step back toward the office, only to bump into Fox. You meet his gaze, silently pleading for some help, even though you know he’s just as much in trouble as you are.

“Osik”, Fox curses, his eyes darting between Cody and the other man.

The man next to him – another Corrie Guard commander you suppose, judging by his armor – looks confused. But Cody? Cody looks furious. His face contorts as realization dawns, and he steps forward, eyes locking onto Fox with pure fury.

“You!”, he thunders.

“Vod, it’s not what–”, Fox starts, trying to diffuse the situation.

“You’re dead”, Cody interrupts, his voice filled with rage. “My Padawan, Fox? Y-You… my Padawan? You’re so dead!”.

“Oh shit”, Thorn whispers.

You step in front of him. “Cody it’s-I didn’t mean… w-we-”. The look he gives you could melt durasteel, and it silences you immediately.

“General Kenobi is looking for you. I suggest you leave now, before he somehow finds you here”, he hisses.

“But–”

“Go. Now!”, her barks.

You can’t argue anymore. With one last glance at Fox – who gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod – you turn and make your way to the turbolifts, head hanging low. As you walk away, the sound of their argument follows you.

“We can’t talk about this in the corridor”, Fox insists. “Let’s step into my–”.

“I am not going inside your office”, Cody snaps, disgust evident in his voice.

“Mine’s down the hall, let’s go there”, Thorn cuts in.

You don’t dare turn around – afraid that Fox might look back at you, or worse, that he wouldn’t spare you a second glance at all.

Three rotations later, you’re back aboard the Negotiator, en route to your next campaign in the Mid Rim. You’ve barely slept, your mind constantly replaying the events of the gala. You cannot get Fox out of your head. You’ve tried, really, really tried. You’ve hidden yourself in the Temple – mostly to avoid Cody but also any chance of running into the Coruscant Guard – and you’ve tried to focus on meditation, lightsaber training, anything to keep your mind from thinking about him. But still, Fox lingers in your thoughts.

That’s why you’re here right now, in front of Cody’s office, trying to talk yourself into going in and facing your ori’vod. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t ask what you’re about to ask – but you just can’t help it. You take a deep breath, press the buzzer, then step inside.

Cody greets you with an icy glare – he’s still pissed off, you assumed that much –but you walk to the chair in front of his desk and sit down, drumming nervously on your thigh. Where do you even begin?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen”, you start. “We just got… caught up”.

Cody shakes his head disapprovingly. “If this is your way of apologising–”.

“I’m not”, you cut in. He lifts an eyebrow. “Apologising. I’m not. I don’t regret it, and I’m not sorry it happened”.

“Then why are you here, vod’ika?”, he asks.

“I, uhm… I was hoping you could give me his frequency”, you say, sheepishly looking away.

He visibly tenses, your request catching him off-guard. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”.

“Probably not. But I can’t stop thinking about him”, you confess.

The silence that settles in the office is deafening. Cody is staring at you, his expression unreadable and you begin to squirm under his gaze, shifting in your seat. The reality of what you’re asking come crashing down on you, filling you with guilt and shame. You’re a Jedi – what the hell are you thinking?

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?”, you murmur. “I’m sure he doesn’t even want to hear from me…”

Cody sighs and leans back in the chair, his gaze finally softening. “He asked me for your frequency two days ago”.

Your eyes light up. “He did?”

“Yeah. I didn’t give it to him. But if you’re asking now too…”, he trails off, shaking his head. With a few taps on his datapad, your comm beeps. “I hope you know what you’re doing, vod’ika”.

“Thank you”, you exclaim.

“Don’t thank me for this. I’m sure I’ll regret it”, he retorts.

You walk back to your cabin at a brisk pace, unable to hide the grin on your face. You cannot wait to comm him, and maybe, hopefully, see him again next time you’re on Coruscant.

“Commander, Wrecker, move!” Hunter’s voice rang through the comms as an explosion went off somewhere deeper in the droid factory. A handful of droids fell following the blast, but the dent seemed insignificant as waves upon waves of droids marched your way. They were all that stood between you and the exit.

“We’re working on that!” Beside you, Wrecker roared as he lifted a super battle droid over his head and threw it at a wall of on-coming battle droids. Then, a terrible sound. The walls of the factory dragged open as if taunting you with their slow pace. If those doors opened fully, you and Wrecker would be surrounded.

You clenched your jaw and swallowed, closing your saber in order to focus on the massive metal doors scraping the earth. With two hands and the force, you pushed against the mechanism working to open the doors. The weight alone could tear your arms apart, but the others relied on you, and you couldn’t let them down.

“Change of plans,” You struggled to keep a steady tone. “You’ll have to pick us up here.”

“What?” Crosshair hissed, but his anger was interrupted by Tech.

“Copy. Hunter, you’ll want to-”

“I’m on it.”

Behind you, Wrecker kept fighting off the wave of droids sent to prevent your escape, but without your help he was struggling to keep up with their numbers. You looked over your shoulder and sent a wave of battle droids on their ass with one arm, only to hear metal moving against earth in front of you. Quickly, you returned all your focus on holding the doors in place. You could feel Wrecker’s steps moving towards you, a sign the two of you were in a bad spot.  

Until finally, the roar of the Marauder’s engines came to save you. You kept your back to the ship, intent on keeping the number of pursuing droids at a minimum, but walked backwards slowly as droids around you started dropping. Hunter called out to you. Wrecker climbed on board first. Then, once he was clear, you dropped your hold on the factory doors and jumped into the Marauder’s cargo bay. Hunter slammed the control panel, closing the ramp just in time for Tech to activate the hyperdrive.

“That was one hell of an exit, ey commander?” Wrecker cackled, but his heavy breaths cut through his laughter.

Hunter let out a sigh of relief. “That’s one way to put it.” The sergeant ran his hands through his hair, pulling the bandana he always wore off to do so.

“We got out and we got the information.” You said plainly, taking the moment to stand and dust off your Jedi robes. “Mission successful.”

Crosshair stood silently, signature scowl and toothpick watching you as you walked out of the cargo bay.

Several hours and a shower later, you stood at the small mirror and sink in your quarters and finished the last of your nightly routine. The mission had been difficult, and you especially felt that weight tonight as you slid into bed wearing only a large nightshirt and underclothes. Your mind wandered to your squad, thinking over their reactions after the mission ended. Everyone had been on edge, but Crosshair was the most notable.

You couldn’t believe he was the same man you shared an amazing night with right before getting your assignment as a Knight. It had been months ago, and yet you found your mind lingering on the memories when you had a moment alone. Nothing could have prepared you for the shock you felt when you came face to face with him after being reassigned. Of course, you ended up sleeping with one of four clones that didn’t look like clones. He didn’t seem to remember you however, and you were happy to keep it that way. His bad attitude only reinforced the trouble that would come if you slept with a subordinate. Now you were only left with pleasant memories during hard nights. Things were better this way.   

Just as you turned over to click your light off, a knock came from your door. Before you could give permission to enter, however, a lean clone opened the door and stepped into your private quarters.

“Crosshair?” You turned the lights of your room back on.“What are you doing?” Then, you noticed his clothes. Or rather, his lack of clothing. The sniper stood in only his lower blacks, completely shirtless. “Shouldn’t you be asleep right now?”

He stood stiffly, holding his hands behind his back and looking just above your shoulder, what your previous clones did when they wanted to address you formally. “Actually, commander, I couldn’t sleep.” He kept his eyes away from yours.

The only time you’d seen a member of Clone Force 99 stand at attention was the first time you all met. Your brows furrowed and an annoyed exhale followed. “At ease, soldier.” A part of you was surprised when Crosshair listened, but you decided there were better questions to be asked. One of which, “And why is your inability to sleep noteworthy to me?”

That earned a twitch of his brow. “I’d like to submit a formal complaint, commander.”

Again with the formalities. “Really? And what would that be?”

“Today, you disregarded my suggestion and put yourself and this squad at risk. Your orders were questionable.”

You straightened up in your bed. Was this some kind of threat? To get you reassigned? Your expression tightened into a glare. “And what orders are you calling questionable?”

Crosshair reflected your expression. “You ordered Hunter and Tech to split up from you and Wrecker, even though intelligence supported a unified assault.” He continued. “Which then led to your choice to confront a patrol unit that could have easily been avoided if you had just listened to my directions.”

Your jaw clenched, but you kept your tone even. “First, that intelligence you’re referring to did not account for a fifth member. Second, I confronted that patrol because Hunter and Tech were about to be discovered. If droids were going to swarm a location, one further from the heart of the factory had better chances. And third, Tech and Hunter needed the heat off them in order to steal the information we were sent after. Wrecker and I could handle it.”

His lips twitched as he snarled. “Handle it?” He stepped further into your bedroom, into your space, stopping only at the foot of your bed. “The most difficult part of the mission was getting you two out!”

“Which ensured the information was safely aboard the ship before anyone knew it had been copied. My plan worked. Your complaints are not valid.”

A sarcastic cackle came from the clone. He leaned down, staring right at your eye level from across your bed. “My worries that your disregard for our lives will get us killed is ‘not valid?’” His hiss cut through your chest.

“I don’t disregard your lives.” Your anger sped up your words. 

“You put Wrecker in danger!”

“It’s war! We’re always in danger!” You raised your voice and you had to hold yourself back from standing up, remembering you weren’t dressed for this discussion. After a moment, you sighed, trying to regain a sense of balance within yourself. “Do not think I do not care about this squad. Every choice I make is to complete the mission <em>and</em> keep us alive. As time passes, as you get to know me, you will know that to be the truth.” 

Anger turned into a raised eyebrow. Crosshair tilted his head, looking down at you like he did battlefields. A shiver ran down your spine at the quiet moment. After staying under his scrutinizing gaze for too long, you turned over and slid fully under your covers, thinking the interaction finished. He was satisfied, or at least as satisfied as he could be, with your promise to show your dedication to this squad and would leave you alone in your bed. He would leave, step out of the door, and you’d hear them close. 

Instead, you felt weight on either side of your head push down your blankets and mattress. 

“We’re already closer than my brothers, wouldn’t you say?”

“What?”

“You and I, wouldn’t you say we’ve already gotten close?” 

Your heart jumped to your throat. He couldn’t be referring to that night? He showed no signs of recognizing you. A quiver opened your lips. “I haven’t any idea what you mean, Crosshair.” For the second time that night, you said his name.

That weight grew as the clone slid one knee up behind you. He loomed over you, though you kept your eyes glued to the sheets you held tightly in front of your face. “Is that why you got reassigned here? Shoved into a tiny ship with four clones. To keep you from fucking any more of us?” 

His words sent a tickle to your core that squeezed your cunt. 

But that’s not how you should react. 

You jumped up, turning to face him and snarled. “You could get more than decommissioned for such slander!”

And then, he was on you. 

You don’t know what you expected, maybe there was a part of you that thought this was a possibility, but that part was buried so deep you weren’t at all prepared for it. 

Crosshair kissed your lips like a dying man. One arm snaked around your back to push you into him. His lips met yours with a ravenous hunger. Over and over again, his lips found new ways to press against yours. He pulled on your bottom lip with his teeth, lightly grazing your delicate skin. In no time his tongue found its way between your lips, sliding against and tangling with yours. 

You moaned into the kisses, feeling an amplified version of what you experienced while fantasizing at night. That warmth, that sting, that tickle, however you’d describe it, it was growing from your core and spreading to the rest of your body. 

As Crosshair kissed you, you heard a click. You pulled back from him, noticing he turned the lights off. Now the pair of you were bathed in the red glow of emergency lights that never shut off. “We shouldn’t-” 

He cut you off by licking your neck. 

“I didn’t know you were a Jedi at the time, but looking back.” Crosshair lightly nibbled your shoulder. “I should’ve.” He continued teasing you. His teeth grazed against the soft skin of your neck, looming like a threat. You tensed, a mixture of anticipation and desire rushing through you. “You were so concerned about us leaving separately. So clearly fighting with yourself about what you wanted and what you needed.” He bit down.

A loud moan ripped through you as pain turned into pleasure. There was no way that wouldn’t leave a mark in the morning. The thought sent another jolt of electricity to your pussy. After he let go, you felt his thin fingers glide against the sore spot. They spread his spit along the bite mark and felt the indents his teeth had left behind. 

With a red wash over the two of you, you caught his eye. His expression was just as intense as when he was arguing with you, but this time anger was replaced with lust. A moment passed as you regarded the other. His eyes flicked from your face to your neck. Yours kept wandering down, noticing the growing tent in his blacks. 

Finally, you broke the stalemate. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” A knit grew between your brows. How could a clone understand this? What did he know of the order, of the rules and expectations? “I’d appreciate if you-” You gasped, as he pulled you up, out of the bed and pushed you against a nearby wall. 

“Don’t I?” With one hand he trapped you between the wall and himself. The other savored its path down your waist, feeling your curves through the thin nightshirt. At your hips, he squeezed, filling his hand with plump skin. “A Jedi that isn’t staying chaste?” Crosshair smirked and shook his head. “What would the council say if they knew your shame?” His hand traveled further, gripping at your thick thighs. “To keep this chaste,” He hissed in a breath of air. “That’s the real shame.”

“Chaste is not a requirement!” You yelped, feeling his thumb hook into your panties. The digit slid across your bare leg towards your mound.

“You don’t have me convinced.” He chuckled in your ear. Whimpers left you as his hand rounded your thigh slowly, till finally he reached the damp spot growing on your underwear. “That night, you know what I thought?” He leaned closer to you, pushing his thumb in between your lips, not even bothering to move the cloth blocking his access out of the way. “A shame we only had a single night together.”

His words were like fuel to the blaze growing from your cunt. This was wrong. It was wrong then, and it was still wrong now.

“You weren’t the best fuck I’ve had.” He continued. Now, his lips were so close to your ear that every other word had the soft skin brushing against your earlobes. His voice dripped with desire. “But I could tell, you were holding back. It was like you couldn’t let go completely.” 

You swallowed, and shifted your eyes down. Instead of the ground, you landed on his hand moving between your legs. You saw the way that your pussy closed around the fabric of your soaked panties as his fingers pushed deeper between your folds. Seeing how his hand moved while pleasuring you felt forbidden. Your breath hitched and a delectable warmth grew in your chest. It was as if what had already transpired was a dream. Watching those long fingers moving between your pussy lips forced you awake. Forced you to acknowledge this was real. 

That you wanted it.

No! 

What was happening? You couldn’t sleep with a clone! How did you get here? You were yelling at him and then… Your eyes caught on his narrow lips, studying the tiny details that only a look this close could reveal. A slight shine glinted on those lips, reflecting off something in the room. No, no, no, you had to stop this. He was a clone and you were a Jedi.

So why didn’t you stop him?

“Imagine my delight when General Kenobi and Cody introduced you to us as our new Commander?” Crosshair’s chuckle vibrated down your neck. “My most curious one night stand, now my commanding officer?”

“You, You’re remembering wrong.” You doubled down, though the stutter on your lips betrayed you. 

A single silver brow raised. “Really? So I didn’t see you prowling at the bar that night? That wasn’t you dressed for attention despite how quickly you ran from anyone that gave it to you? I didn’t watch you gather your wits before sliding onto the bar stool beside me?” His voice dropped as he moved down against your body, stopping at your bust. 

Panic and delight rang in your head.

Fascination glued your eyes to his as he removed his hand from your wet folds and used the damp digits to cup a single breast, gently pushing it into his open lips. His tongue lapped over your t-shirt, making the thin fabric cling to your skin as it grew wet from his saliva. Gasps and mewls left your tongue as you struggled to stay still under his lips. Worst of all, Crosshair’s copper eyes refused to leave yours.  

That intense gaze. The attention and focus only a sniper could give. All of it was aimed at you. It was almost enough to make you come undone. But you couldn’t succumb. Despite the heat, the throbbing at your crotch and the mind-numbing pleasure coming from Crosshair’s tongue dragging up and down your nipple, you, you couldn’t… hold back.

“Please, I ca-!” The whine cut short as Crosshair closed his lips around your hard bud. From the lines under his eyes, you could tell he was all too entertained by your struggling. It was subtle, nothing like an orgasm from touching yourself, but even still an echo of what you felt from your breast pulsed through your body, causing your cunt to clench down on nothing till only a soft shudder remained.

Finally, mercy. Crosshair drew his lips away from your breast, leaving behind a large wet spot on your shirt. “Already spent, Commander?” His rough voice rumbled against your neck. 

You glared sabers at the clone, but his smug expression remained strong. He liked to play with you? Then he was going to learn the cost of this little game he started.