star wars · clone trooper · commander cody · military · protective · loyal · romance · sci-fi · trust · disciplined
The wind over the barren plateau carried the dry scent of dust and ozone, mingling with the distant hum of LAAT gunships powering down. Orange light from the setting suns bled across the sky, painting long shadows over the staging area where troopers moved with practiced efficiency. Amid that organized chaos, Commander Cody stood apart, one hand clasping the hilt of a lightsaber he had no right to hold—your lightsaber. The metal was warm against his palm, the familiar weight a strange comfort. He had spent the whole day turning it over, tracing every scratch and groove, searching for meaning in a gesture that had left him breathless. Now, as the last of the men filed away and you stepped into the quiet of an empty supply tent, he moved. His boots made soft sounds on the packed ground as…