#I do talk about Luke Skywalker many times in the week though

[ilovettrpgs]

my current tactic for getting my friends to like star wars is just to talk about Luke Skywalker everyday

#this is uhhh #/hj #I do talk about Luke Skywalker many times in the week though #star wars

[vanishedangels]

Blame it on the storm

Summary: After blowing up the Death Star Nineteen-year-old Luke Skywalker is dealing with his new popularity as he became the target of his squad mates' advances. Tired of that situation he asks Din Djarin, a bounty hunter he has just met, to pretend they're in a relationship.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Characters: Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Leia Organa, Han Solo.

Rating: Mature (+18)

Warnings: Harassment, Descriptions of anxiety episodes.

Tags: Canon Divergence (AU), Fake/Pretend Relationship, Post A New Hope (Star Wars), Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Protective Din Djarin, Tumblr Prompts.

Chapters: 2/3

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

Excerpt:

He looked at his visor, and even though Luke respected Din's creed, deep inside he was dying to see the mandalorian's face.

"Are they still staring at us?" Luke asked under his breath, he waited, frowning, finally, Din nodded. "Then we should stay like this for a little while." He was trying to ignore the way those arms around him was making him feel.

Those butterflies. Luke swallowed hard, those stupid butterflies were there again.

Chapter 2: Butterflies

It was pretty obvious that the mandalorian had been to Tatooine in the past. But, how many times? What if they crossed paths before and Luke didn't remember him?

Impossible. He totally stand out among others. He thought frowning, he sighed staring at the wall, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand, then his lips curled up into a goofy smile, remembering the sound of Din's voice when he asked him why he was leaving the night before.

"Force..." He said under his breath, shaking his head, chuckling.

"Why that dreamy expression, Luke?" Leia's words taking him out of his mind.

The blonde blinked.

"Anyway-" She said crossing her arms over her chest leaning back in the chair "Artoo needs some maintenance, I know you don't want other people getting their hands on him, so I'm just letting you know that the droid is waiting for you."

Luke nodded, lips pressed against each other.

The princess frowned tilting her head to the side "You're acting weird."

Luke stared at her sightly parting his lips, shifting uncomfortably in his chair "Didn't sleep well last night." He looked down.

Leia didn't say a word.

Although he didn't lie, he started to feel a little twitchy about Leia's silence "I'm fine, I promise." He added looking at her again but his eyes went immediately to the man entering the room. The blonde's eyes went wide and his eyebrows arched out of surprise.

Leia turned around to see what was catching his friend's attention, then she looked at Luke again offering him a knowing smile "The mandalorian?" She said in a low voice like sharing a secret.

"What are you talking about?" Luke said shaking his head laughing nervously.

"Is he hitting on you too? Like the rest of these nerf-herders?" She asked leaning forward over the table. Luke was still looking at Din shaking his head visibly annoyed "No? Because, let me tell you, he didn't tell me his name until yesterday, do you know why?" Luke looked at her again "Because of you, that little bastard, oh yes..." She nodded "He didn't give a flying fuck when I met him two weeks ago, I asked him 'What should I call you?' He said 'Mando', and then you showed up and he's all smitten and outgoing. Outgoing my ass."

Luke was rubbing his fingers against his temple, shifting his gaze between Leia and Din "Stop it, he's coming."

Leia drew in a sharp inhale and straightened up her back, she smiled looking up at the mandalorian when he came to a halt and he stood right beside their table "Good morning, Mando. Oh no, wait, you told me yesterday that I should call you Din. I'm so sorry, it's still new information to me." She grinned and Luke huffed, knowing that Leia was mocking him pretty hard.

"Good morning, Organa." He said, brushing three fingers over the table surface, Luke stared at his hand and bit back a sigh.

Luke was trying not to think about those fingers running up and down his neck. He swallowed hard, focusing on Leia's face. You're confused that's all, Luke thought nodding at himself. You don't need to have fantasies about the mandalorian. It's just your stupid imagination and your lack of experience in this kind of matter.

"Morning Luke." Din added staring down at the blonde.

"Huh? Oh, hi!" He answered avoiding his visor.

"Well, what can I do for you, Din?" Leia asked him still smiling.

"I came to join my boyfriend for breakfast."

Suddenly Luke was very conscious about the silence in the room, he looked around realizing all eye were on them. He tried to find Leia's gaze but the princess was focused on the mandalorian, she was gaping and Luke's heart jumped into his throat in a blink of an eye.

"Your... Boyfriend?" Leia managed to ask.

"Yes. Luke." Din said shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

And if Luke heard someone exclaiming "Fuck!" at the distance he couldn't process it at that moment. He stood up swiftly clasping Din's forearm, letting out a hysterical laugh "Yeah, we need to go, see you Leia." He jostled Din out of the room hardly noticing Solo was leaning against the wall, hands on his hips.

"Good job, mandalorian." Han said in a bantering tone.

Luke didn't stop until they were inside the hangar "Open the ramp, please." He said, eager.

"Your heart rate is out of the charts." The mandalorian observed.

Luke frowned loosening the grip around his arm "What?"

"And even through my tinted visor I can tell your cheeks are burning."

Luke babbled a little "How... How..."

"I'm scanning you. I'm sorry, you looked pretty bad and I needed to know." He bowed his head like if he was trying to apologize.

Luke sighed rubbing his hand across his forehead "Open the ramp, please." He pleaded again.

"Alright, Luke, but first, I need you to calm down." He bored into Luke's blue eyes, grabbing him by his arms.

Indeed, Luke was clearly hyperventilating and he came to the realization that this was getting a bit out of hand. Maybe the mandalorian was right, he was too young, inexperienced and he was being overdramatic, but he couldn't help it, the embarrassment was taking him over. He looked down at Din's hands curled around his upper arms, hoping they could soothe him, still it wasn't happening.

"Alright, I'm okay, you can open the ramp now." He nodded staring at the man's chest plate.

When they were inside the docking port Luke started walking from side to side, he shook his head staring at Din, still agitated "This was a terrible idea. I don't know what I was thinking. This is wrong, we should stop right now. I'm feeling weird, I don't like it." He took his hands to his hips looking down at the floor "I like to be around you, yes! But not like this, not like this. I shouldn't have asked you to pretend we're dating."

The mandalorian was standing in front of him, he looked calm "No, you never asked me that. I offered to pass for your boyfriend myself."

"No, you didn't offer-" Luke stopped at that realizing that, indeed, it was Din the one that came up with the idea before Luke could even speak. He grimaced and then his expression softened "Yes you did, and I'm being a pain in the ass, I'm sorry."

"Part of your charm." The mandalorian said sitting down on the floor.

Luke felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach at Din's words. He thought back to one specific afternoon. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his little legs dangling from chair, aunt Beru was chopping some vegetables when uncle Owen appeared and said something in her ear that little Luke couldn't hear from where he was. Then, uncle smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek. Little Luke covered his eyes laughing. When he finally decided to peek at them through his fingers, uncle Owen was already gone. Aunt Beru came close to Luke and she was still smiling, the kid asked her why she was so happy after a kiss from his uncle, she explained to him that when someone is in love, when that special person shows you affection you would experience something beautiful inside you. Luke wanted to know what was the thing someone in love would feel inside them, so he asked her again, aunt Beru sat down next to him pointing at his belly "It feels like fluttering butterflies inside your tummy." Little Luke was terrified, because how could butterflies get inside his stomach and why?

Maybe aunt Beru explained it quite well, if that was the case, Luke was in trouble because now he was getting a fluttery sensation in his stomach right there and then, only because the mandalorian complimented him. Alright, he was being sarcastic about Luke but still it sounded like he was complimenting him.

"Are you still on?" Din asked him looking up at his face.

Luke was unconsciously pressing his hand against his stomach trying to ignore the tickling he was feeling "Are you?" He retorted.

"I'm not the one having second thoughts here, if you are willing to keep on with this, I'm fine."

"And if I don't want to?" Although he still wanted to play along, Luke didn't know why but he wanted to see Din's reaction.

The mandalorian changed his position, Luke could see the way his shoulders tensed up "Then I'm fine too." He sighed "Look, if you're gonna react like you did out there they would know we're lying. So it's up to you."

Luke narrowed his eyes, thinking about the times his mates overstepped, making him feel like he was just a piece of meat, maybe this was a stupid idea but at least he could try. He sighed "No, I won't react like that next time, I can deal with this."

Those might have been some kind of magic words because the mandalorian rose to his feet in a heartbeat, standing inches apart from Luke "Good." He said and Luke took two steps back.

"There's a lot of work to do, I'll see you around." He said walking away, then he looked at the mandalorian over his shoulder "Boyfriend." He said under his breath in an effort to become familiar with the term. In the intimacy of Din's ship he was slowly opening himself to the mandalorian, it was just a matter of time he could do the same in front of Leia and the others. He just needed to work on it.

~

The little blue and silver droid was chirping excited as he slid behind Luke, the blonde chuckled rubbing the dirt and oil off his hands with a cloth "Yeah, you're like new, Artoo." Luke spent the last hours repairing the unit, but his mind swirled around the mandalorian and their arrangement. "Fuck, I need to act cool around him." He said to himself.

When he was passing by the Millennium Falcon he heard a whistle coming from there, he looked up and Han Solo was waving at him with his free and holding a wrench in the other hand "Psst! Luke, spotchka time, come over."

He entered Solo's ship finally walking in the main hold, his friend was already drinking from the bottle and then he poured the blue beverage in a glass "A toast?" He asked leaning forward as Luke sat down at the table.

"A toast?" Luke took the glass frowning at him.

"Yeah, since you finally grew some balls and convinced the mandalorian to be your fake boyfriend. Cheers!" He grinned at Luke.

"You're the only one that knows the truth so keep it between us." He said and then he was gulping down his spotchka.

"Slow down, kid, I don't wanna carry you to your room totally wasted." Luke shrugged. "Wait, you're telling me that annoying princess doesn't know it's fake? Oh, that explains your reaction earlier." Han chuckled.

"More." Luke said sliding the glass across the table.

"Alright, alright, but you should act smooth, you know?"

"What do you mean?" The blonde asked him.

"You should act like you're hot for the bounty hunter. You know what I'm talking about." He added staring into his eyes but Luke was frozen with a dull expression on his face. "You don't have a clue, do you?" The blonde shrugged making him sigh. "Ugh, kid... Alright, have you seen how couples act around each other?"

Luke nodded snorting "Of course, Han."

"Good. What do couples do?"

"They kiss." Luke replied nonchalantly.

Solo leaned back in the seat and huffed "This is not the case, kid, you can't kiss him. But, you can just casually touch him, like you mean it."

Luke pursed his lips staring down "I can do that." Actually he wasn't sure about it.

"Just, trust your gut, you'll be fine." His friend stated and Luke thought about the night before, when he nuzzled Din's neck effortlessly, like Han said, he just needed to follow his intuition.

~

The mandalorian looked around as he walked in the multi-purpose room, locking eyes with one of the men that harassed Luke the night before. Then he proceeded to sat down at a table. He was minding his own business when the same man approached him, sitting across from Din. He didn't make a move but behind his visor he was looking at his sides noticing that two other pilots joined the first one, the table was small, Din was resting his forearms on it, surrounded by them, waiting.

"So, he chose you, a mandalorian, a bounty hunter." The pilot at his left said tilting his chin up "How did you pull him?"

Din flexed his left hand instinctively, the man across from him made a clicking noise with his tongue, staring at his hand "He didn't pull him." He blurted. Their mates looked at him grinning. He leaned forward "Am I wrong, bounty hunter?" He laughed.

Although Din looked tense he didn't answer.

"What is it, man? Cat got your tongue?" He mockingly insisted, nodding with a crooked smile on his face.

"I'm listening." The mandalorian deadpanned.

"Oh, so, should I continue?" He narrowed his eyes like waiting for Din's reaction, but he only received silence "A man of few words. Do you think we're stupid? Huh?"

"I don't think about you. At all." The mandalorian said flatly.

"See, I don't buy it. You and blondie. He's not your sweetheart, you're just his hired gun, pretending you're together. Pretty lame." He arched his back to rest his feet on the table almost crushing Din's fingers under his heel. "This morning he looked so upset, you're not being good at your job, he almost lost his mind when you said that he was your boyfriend."

Din was flaring his nostrils behind his helmet.

"Yeah, champ, you disgust him." He looked Din up and down "And I can totally see why."

One of the pilots touched the man's leg "Hey, Brando, it's enough, you're stepping out of line here." He said under his breath.

"Why? I'm just having a friendly talk with my man here." He retorted.

Din withdrew his hands to cross his arms over his chest plate "So, Brando, is it?" The man nodded smiling. "Curious, I remember you were the one disgusting Luke yesterday, you said something about getting him on his knees." He pressed a button in his vambrace and the man, Brando, moved to put his feet on the floor again. "What would you say if I put you on your knees right now?" Din asked tilting his head.

At the same moment Luke and Han were walking into the room, Luke spotted Din's back immediately, realizing something bad was happening over that table.

Han sighed "Shit."

Luke started walking towards them and his friend grabbed his arm "Remember kid, like you mean it." He said nodding and lifting his eyebrows staring at Luke's face. The blonde nodded back, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He kept walking as his friend's words were reverberating inside his head.

Like you mean it. Like you mean it.

He took every step thinking about the times he and his friends were hanging out at Tosche Station, he closed his eyes remembering the way Loneozner and his girlfriend Camie acted around each other.

You've got this.

He heard Brando laughing but he could notice that the air could be cut by a knife. Brando looked up and over Din's helmet glancing at Luke's face "Oh, mandalorian, here's your boyfriend." He said with a sneer and then bursted into laughter.

Before Din could turn around Luke brushed his fingers across the nape of the mandalorian's neck, Brando's face dropped looking at them.

"Hi, love, did you miss me?" Luke leaned into Din smiling and then he pressed his forehead against his helmet, he could hear a soft groan coming from the mandalorian but he didn't pay attention to it since he was trying to save the day. He pulled back a little to stare at his visor with a soft smile that reached his bright eyes "Because I did miss you." Luke shifted his gaze pretending that he was surprised to see Brando and the other guys. "Bonding with my mates? Do you mind if I join you?" He asked stroking Din's pauldron.

"Ah-" Din cleared his throat "No, no, go ahead." He said and Luke was already sitting on Din's lap.

Inside, Luke was silently dying of embarrassment but he was making a point and as stubborn as he was, he wanted to succeed.

He blinked when he felt Din's gloved hands gingerly resting on his thighs, and his heart leapt in his chest as he hooked his arm around Din's neck. The three pilots were immediately standing up and leaving the table. Luke looked at them as his fingers were unconsciously drawing little circles on Din's neck until he reached the man's skin and he stopped, feeling the softness of him. Din moved his hands really slow and then he encircled Luke's waist with his arms, bringing the blonde closer to his chest.

He looked at his visor, and even though Luke respected Din's creed, deep inside he was dying to see the mandalorian's face.

"Are they still staring at us?" Luke asked under his breath, he waited, frowning, finally, Din nodded. "Then we should stay like this for a little while." He was trying to ignore the way those arms around him was making him feel.

Those butterflies. Luke swallowed hard, those stupid butterflies were there again.

Like you mean it.

The blonde hummed shifting a little in Din's lap and the mandalorian groaned again, this time Luke was very aware of the alluring sound the man in beskar let out. Trusting his gut, and especially the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, Luke rested his free hand on his chest plate, then boring into his black visor he started stroking the beskar, and he could feel the way Din's body tensed up beneath him.

"Is this okay?" He asked leaning towards him and almost brushing his lips against the helmet.

The mandalorian let out a weak "Yeah..." And Luke's heart skipped a beat.

"You should go to your ship. Take some food with you, I'm having dinner here and then I'll join you there." He suggested.

The mandalorian agreed taking his hands off him and he waited until Luke disentangled his arm from around his neck to stand up. When he walked to the door Han was still around casting glances at Luke from time to time.

Luke walked in Han's direction, passing by Brando's side and his pulse was pounding in his ears. The pilot looked away, avoiding him completely for the very first time in weeks and Luke felt like it was a little victory.

~

Two days passed and Luke was really astonished at the way things changed between him and his mates. Not only Brando, but all of them stopped approaching him. Still they couldn't help but glaring at the blonde from afar. Luke sighed relieved knowing that, at least, they wouldn't put a hand on him again. Then he started worrying about the mandalorian leaving and his stomach clenched at the mere thought of losing his company.

He kept returning to Din's ship every night, sleeping in the bunk while the mandalorian slept on the floor over some thick blankets and pillows that Luke brought from the base.

He woke up in the middle of the night and he sat at the edge of the bunk ducking his head since the space was too small, he was rubbing sleep from his eyes when he realized Din was peacefully sleeping. He chuckled when he heard the man snoring and he felt an irrepressible urge to lie next to him.

The snoring stopped and Luke flinched when the mandalorian moved his head to look at him.

"Can't sleep." Luke said as fast as he could trying to hide the fact that he was staring at Din while sleeping.

The mandalorian propped himself up on his elbows "Now I'm awake too." He said sitting up resting his back against the wall.

"I'm sorry." The blonde said in a soft voice. He looked around and then at Din again, finding that the visor was still on him, he pressed his lips together nervously, not knowing what to do "So, uh, they stopped. They must be really scared of you."

The mandalorian didn't say a word.

Realizing that Din might be offended by what he said, Luke tried to explain further "It's not only because you're a bounty hunter, but also a mandalorian above all things."

"Convenient." Din stated and Luke didn't realize until then that he was holding his breath.

"You really helped me." Luke said resting his head against the wall "I'm gonna miss you so much." He added staring at the ceiling and he didn't even regret being that sincere. "And not only because they are scared to death when you're around, I'm gonna miss this." He said gesturing with his hand between them "All of this."

Din hummed "Well, I'm glad they stopped harassing you, I understand what you were going through, I've been there."

Luke crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at him frowning.

"You mean people used to harass you too?"

"Yes, when I was in the fighting corps they thought it was a good idea to pick on me cause I was different, I mean, the kids were used to jump from bed to bed and I was the only one not getting on it." Din shrugged.

"Why not?" Luke squeezed his eyes shut realizing he was being disrespectful.

Surprisingly Din explained it further "I wanted to be a warrior, my mind was set on that only purpose. They hated that. That's why this guy, Paz Vizsla, and the rest of my mates made a bet behind my back."

Luke nodded putting his feet on the floor and then he walked towards Din, finally sitting down next to him. Din reached out offering him a pillow, Luke took it, placing it over his crossed legs to rest his elbows on it, listening to Din with curious eyes.

"What was the bet about?" Luke asked.

"He bet his beskar'gam that he was going to be my first." Din looked down.

"Beskar'gam?"

"A complete mandalorian armour." Din replied.

"And-" Luke swallowed not sure if he should ask the next question.

"He kept his beskar'gam." Din said and Luke could hear some sadness in his voice.

Luke's eyes went round, he found Din's hand and squeezed it, still staring at his visor "I'm sorry, Din."

"It's okay, that was so long ago. And I was too young to understand what I was feeling." He cleared his throat "At least I didn't remove my helmet in the heat of the moment."

Luke frowned "Can I ask you something?" Din nodded "And please, if I'm pushing boundaries here, let me know." Din nodded again. Luke breathed in "When you're having- well, you know... How is it to be with someone with that helmet on, I mean, don't you just want to kiss your partner?" He asked and his cheeks were red as apples all of a sudden.

The mandalorian chuckled "We do kiss. But not with our lips."

Luke smiled amused "Not with the lips? What? Is there another way?" He laughed softly.

"Yes, we kiss pressing our foreheads together." Din said not breaking eye contact with him behind his visor.

Luke's smile started to fade away the second he remembered that he pressed his forehead against Din's two days earlier when he was sitting on his lap.

His face turned crimson "Oh, no." He mumbled and he leaned back instinctively putting some space between their bodies. Din held his hand tight like trying to keep him close.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. If I knew it I wouldn't have done that." The blonde explained avoiding staring at him.

"I know." Din said squeezing his hand in a reassuring way.

Luke's hair was a mess and he looked sleepy "I should try to go back to sleep, have a long day tomorrow." He said standing up and letting Din's hand go.

"Alright." He heard the mandalorian said as he was climbing up to the bunk.

He kept tossing and turning for a while and kicking the blanket, sighing, feeling uneasy, still trying to process that he kissed the mandalorian without even noticing it and that he was now a couple of meters away from him.

What was Din thinking at that very moment?

Luke cracked one eye open to look at him on the floor.

An annoyed sigh coming from Din "Ah, Skywalker, are you going to do that the whole night?"

Luke lifted his head "Told you I couldn't sleep." He said in a whiny tone.

The mandalorian startled "I didn't know your voice could do that."

Luke's mouth set in a hard line, utterly offended by Din's words. "It's not my fault, you were right, your bunk isn't cozy."

"Listen, if you're going to be a pain in the ass you better come over here, there's plenty of room." Din retorted lifting the blanket.

Luke sat up slowly, considering Din's offer and, damn, how badly he wanted to share the bed with him. He blinked staring at Din and the man was still grabbing the blanket like he knew Luke needed a moment to process it.

When he put a foot on the floor he was still reticent but then the mandalorian let out a little sigh as he rolled over on the floor lying on his own side, and Luke couldn't refrain from complying with his demand anymore. He kneeled beside him and then he slipped under the blanket. He stared at Din's back keeping some distance between them.

Luke stayed lying on his back staring at the ceiling for a while resting his hands on his own chest thinking over and over how good it would feel to pass his arms around Din and he shook his head trying to push that thought away, I'm not a creep, I'm not a creep.

"Din?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing." He said and then his mouth twitched.

"What's wrong?" Din asked still lying on his side.

"I said nothing." They stayed silent for a while "It's just, I want to hold you." Luke's mouth went dry not knowing where that boldness was coming from.

"Then hold me." Din effortlessly said.

"You mean it?" The blonde asked propping himself up on his elbows.

"Don't make me regret it." Din added reaching a hand behind himself to grab Luke's, the blonde's heart gave an extra beat when he finally hugged him from behind, resting his hand on Din's chest plate and burying his nose in the mandalorian's neck. Din put his hand atop Luke's an intertwined their fingers.

The mandalorian waited until Luke's breath evened out to mutter "Goodnight, cyar'ika." And although Luke was half asleep he answered by reflex.

"Goodnight, Din."

#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #dinluke fanfiction #blame it on the storm fanfic #skydalorian

[tragedybunny]

A Fate Written in Indifferent Stars - Chapter 3

The Republic has fallen and the Empire has risen. Obi-Wan lives in exile on Tatooine, the distant guardian of Luke Skywalker. Amidst the desperation and desolation, the mysterious appearance of a Nightsister draws his curiosity. As he tries to piece together her true intentions, he finds himself more deeply entangled with her than he ever intended.

I'm back at it with another chapter. If you're reading and supporting know that I love you. I'm hoping I can keep working on this story and really build it into something great. As usual, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

Zelena had made good on her promise, continuing to see him whenever she could persuade him to meet up with her. Not that it was much work, but not wanting to seem too over eager though, he’d turn her down every so often. Every encounter was an excuse to study her, to poke and prod as much as possible without making her too suspicious. For several weeks they continued in what he thought of as a game she was playing, going for drinks after her shift, accompanying her through the marketplace, simply wandering the city and talking. Every time she seemed delighted to see him, as though she were surprised he kept turning back up. Over time, she’d opened up about her past a little bit more, but remained careful never to mention Dathomir. That coupled with the fact that she would always say goodbye just outside her door and never invited him kept Obi-Wan’s suspicions primed. 

Seeing what lay beyond that door felt like the key to unraveling the whole plot. And currently, it was close enough that he could feasibly be in and out before anyone noticed. If he got caught though, the whole plan would be spoiled. Acting impetuously was tempting, but he had developed better control than his Padawan days, no matter how eager he was to see this settled. 

Today he’d shown up on a whim, there were no shifts running at the mine due to equipment malfunctions. When he’d arrived, he’d found her just walking out of her door, leaving earlier than he would have thought with her late hours. “Ben, this is unexpected.” Shifting her weight while stationary, she’d adjusted a large satchel that hung from her shoulder across her torso to lay against her hip. Around them, the courtyard of the apartment complex had just begun coming to life, and the din cut through the morning air. 

“Sorry Zel, I didn’t realize you were busy.” It had been worth the attempt, but the waste of his time internally frustrated him, a lesson to not try the surprise route again. 

“Eh, a small health problem with one of Nagla’s brood.” Nagla, whom he’d only recently been officially introduced to, was the matriarch of the Rodian family that were Zelena’s neighbors. To date, he’d counted at least half a dozen children that belonged to the household, although it was hard to tell as several apartments were occupied by what seemed to be an extended clan. “I was going to stop by and see if I could be of any help.” It wasn’t the first time he’d been witness to her serving as a healer for the small community. Doctors weren’t always plentiful on Tatooine and even when there was one, many didn’t have the credits to get care. Natural remedies and very basic procedures were the best some could hope for. Her skills in these matters were one part of her past that Zelena had been slightly open about, claiming she’d learned them from her people’s elders and perfected them exploring her planet’s wilderness. He’d noted, as she had spoken of it while bandaging one of the local children who’d had a nasty fall, that again she avoided naming the planet. “And hide out from Kyrsta for a while.” 

He’d followed her gaze to the sight of a speeder bike, tipped over on its side, engine exposed, clearly having seen better days. Stunned for a moment, he hesitated before quietly asking, “Zel, what did you do?” 

“They ran into me.” For emphasis, she flung her hands in the air, seemingly exasperated at having to go into the subject yet another time. “Something got knocked loose, and I’m not much of a mechanic, so when I tried to mess with it, well.” She gestured back to the unfortunate machine. “Kyrsta might be considering my murder at this point.” 

Her expression was sullen, and her distress about the incident was evident. “Perhaps I could take a look?” He offered, the opportunity to be her savior could be pivotal, he told himself, even as she brightened a bit at his words. 

“You can try if you want.” She replied, shrugging, even as she smiled slightly. “Don’t worry about it too much though.” 

“Best of luck with the little one.” He watched as she walked across the well-trod sand that served as the path through the courtyard, not for the first time noticing her moving with an almost ethereal grace that was otherworldly and hypnotic. The red of her cloak made her easy to follow as weaved through the rising crowd, and his eyes remained on her until she was knocking at Nagla’s door. Only then did he turn his attention to the abused speeder, which brought him to this moment, where he realized the possibilities in how close it lay to her door. 

“What have I gotten myself into?” Muttering, he dropped down to his knees to study it. If nothing else, it would make a decent distraction while he waited for her to return. 

Though he was a competent tinkerer, he’d never quite had the genius for it that Anakin had. No doubt he’d torment him right now for attempting this before thinking it though, the thought made him feel as though he could both sob and cackle madly. But the ghosts of the past needed to remain there, and he put away the thoughts of how Anakin’s eyes lit up when he laughed. 

A small box of tools had been left open near the speeder, and he rifled through it, quickly taking stock of what he had to work with, seeing precious few that would do any good on this current case. Further evaluation of the damage revealed a panel had been removed and the evidence of someone blindly poking around was clear. “Really Zel?” He fussed out loud to himself. Clearly, she had been right, no matter what her other talents were, this was not among them. 

Exploring the engine, he tried to parse what was still in its proper place and found a power conduit that seemed to be hooked up in entirely the wrong spot. It was running a feedback loop instead of carrying power anywhere. Simple enough, he thought, pulling a spanner from the toolbox, just disconnect and reconnect. Only moments were needed to right its position, easy as he thought. When he attempted to power it on however he was met with a mocking silence. The power conduit was assuredly in the right place, there must have been something else he was missing, and so he pressed on. 

Time drifted away from him over the next several hours as he sat beneath the blazing light of the twin suns, pursuing every fix he could come up with and implement with what he had at his disposal. The heat weighed down on him, sweat covered his brow and his muscles began to ache. The residents of the complex passed by as they went about their daily lives, some gave him a curious glance, a whisper or two following in their wake. Idly, he wondered what they thought of him. 

The engine of the speeder eventually ceased to make sense to him. He’d tried everything, but nothing looked right anymore. There was a throbbing in his head and his thoughts had become muddled. Attempting to power it on one last time, the same frustrating nothingness was all that occurred. Sitting back, he sighed, a feeling of being unwell at last overcoming him. 

“Ben, you’re still out here!” Zelena’s voice wavered uncharacteristically, as though she were concerned about something. 

“I couldn’t quite get it to go.” The whole thing had seemed so important while he was working on it. Now he wasn’t sure why. Was it because it had her so troubled? That was foolishness, he owed her nothing. Whatever she thought she was to Ben Kenobi, he didn’t exist. Obi-Wan did, and he was alone in the galaxy. He was lost in the morass of all those thoughts he’d nearly forgotten about Zelena, who was now hovering directly over him. 

“It’s not that important. You’ve gone and made yourself sun sick being out here for too long.” Reaching down, she helped him to his feet, watching as he stood on unstable legs. 

“I’ll be fine, I swear.” The way she was fussing over him filled him with awful unease, and his instinct was to get away from it as quickly as he could. 

Turning in the direction of her door, she looked torn for a moment before finally resigning herself to whatever it was she was contemplating. “No way, you’re coming inside to cool off where I can keep an eye on you.” 

Unintentionally, he’d achieved exactly what he wanted, if only he could concentrate on it. But everything was so blurry, and he was so weary. Giving in, he placidly let her lead him forward, past the threshold, and into the dimly lit apartment. Hurriedly, he glanced around, taking in what details he could, unsure if he would ever see this chance again. A small living area was the first thing he encountered, a couch and a couple of chairs, all well-used were scattered around a low table, an old holo-projector in front of them. In one corner rested a shelf full of paper books, various jars, and assorted plant bits. A kitchen was to his right, small and not much more than functional, to his left was an open door he could see a lone bed through. 

Guiding him to the couch, Zelena helped him get settled on it. Following an irresistible urge, he sunk down to lay on his side, his body grateful for the relief of the relative coolness around him. Reappearing before he noticed she was gone, she handed him a glass which he took in a shaky hand. “Drink.” She ordered and he didn’t even think of resisting. The liquid was cool and tart, and it vaguely occurred to him that she could have given him something nefarious. But his eyes were heavy and the couch was astonishingly quite comfortable. Somehow, the glass had disappeared from his hand. “It’s alright, get some rest.” Gently, her fingers were running through his hair, adding to his already bewildered state, and reawakening some of those misgivings from that first night he went out with her. Heavy eyelids finally shut and he drifted off into slumber. 

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In that space between dream and reality, he heard something. A faint voice, singing or chanting, in a language unfamiliar to him, though he could guess what it was. Remarkably, an uncanny sense of comfort took hold of his spirit, and the voice kept on until he sunk into the darkest depths of sleep. 

The ship entered the docking bay at Ord Mantell City smoothly and without incident. Most of the passengers, save a few,  paid no heed and continued on with whatever it was that was occupying them, clearly bound for the freighter’s next destination. Ord Mantell, it would seem, remained a place few would choose to end up in. Poverty had completely overtaken it as corruption soared, and criminal elements ruled what little there was that was desirable. 

Discreetly, he moved amongst the crew as they off-loaded cargo, from the fringes carefully observing as the customs agents appeared to process them. One sleepy-looking Imperial Officer and two guards, a token unit more for the show of it than anything else. The Empire couldn’t appear to be disinterested in a world that for so long had been a trade hub and still saw much traffic, but they likely preferred to influence by means other than force. 

The Officer was more concerned with the crates that moved from the ship than with any of the passengers that were making their way planetside. Obi-Wan followed the small group, keeping close and his head down, and made as quickly as possible for the exit of the docking bay. Bail had ensured that he had enough fraudulent documentation to move around the galaxy as long as he stayed inconspicuous; he'd thought it prudent after the last incident. At the moment, he found himself extremely thankful for the forethought as it saved him the trouble of explaining what he’d needed to come all the way here for. The rescue of someone with whom he’d had a thoroughly complicated relationship, a relationship he still didn’t like to speak of in his innermost thoughts, let alone to anyone else. 

A droid scanned their ID Chips, uncaring and unknowing, pulling his hood down to cover his face, he followed the natural procession out into the street. The day was just dawning on Ord Mantell, and sunlight cut through fog and fumes alike, making the city almost shine like a newly constructed metropolis. Their little group began to disperse, some going along with parties that had been waiting for them, and others like him going on their own solitary way. Into the streets he headed, with little more guidance than a trust that the Force would lead him to where he needed to be.  

Built between the rise of the planet’s mountains, like many of the other metropolises, the city had seen better days. Once legitimate trade and industry had flourished here, but now years of abuse by the gangs and the Empire had taken their toll on it physically along with the populace. It reminded him of the lower levels of Coruscant in a way. The pervasive darkness was missing, but the crowds of those who were destitute and dangerous, the endless noise, and the glare of neon lights, still shining in the rising sun. 

Instinctually, he wanted to quicken his pace, to achieve what he’d set out to do and get off planet as soon as possible. The longer he stayed, the greater the risk. Now he needed to slow down, open himself, listen to the Force. The coordinates Zelena had sent him had been the general location for Ord Mantell City. Her time had been short and she hadn’t been able to give anything more, and it wasn’t as though he could wander the streets asking where the Black Sun was likely to hold those they had forced into their service. But perhaps looking to hire them could provide an in, a prospective smuggling job could do the trick. 

Cantinas, casinos, technically illegal fighting dens, they were everywhere, the culture of Ord Mantell that existed behind walls and closed doors. He’d find a contact somewhere who would get him where he needed to be, of that he was sure. Though thought of having to wade through the masses of scum and villainy gave him a slight pause and a sense, once again like that at his departure from Tatooine, that he was getting too old for these exploits. Once he saw that Zelena was safe, he was resolved that he wouldn’t be having another grand adventure. “Hey old man.” A rough voice from behind shook him from his thoughts, it promised violence, and he knew he’d found what he was looking for. The Force once again his steady guide. 

Turning to face the newcomer, his hands raised to the air, feigning shock. “I don’t want any trouble.” 

“There’s a fee to enter Ord Mantell City, you gotta give Black Sun their due.” There was nothing remarkable about the man he found himself speaking to. Gang tattoos, and a bit of muscle, but nothing that would mark him out as noteworthy or particularly dangerous. But no doubt he would prove himself useful for the task he required of him. Obi-Wan let him close the distance between the two of them.

Rather dramatically, he fumbled at a pouch on his belt, playing up his supposed feebleness. “I don’t have much.” The man’s own greed and eagerness were really the only disguise he needed as he moved in, inpatient for the easy mark. 

One hand revealed a blaster under his coat, and another reached for Obi-Wan. “Is it worth your life?” 

Before he realized the grave error he had made, Obi-Wan had squeezed his wrist in a vice-like grip and used the momentum of his own steps to send him colliding toward the wall of the building at his back. Tentatively, he glanced around, seeing no one had paid the encounter any heed. Still, best not to risk it too much. With another sharp motion he tugged the dazed and breathless man into a small alley between buildings. “Wh-Who are you?” He gasped, looking around frantically for an out. 

Obi-Wan held up a hand and let the Force flow through him. “I have an important cargo and I need it smuggled. You’ve seen the proof, you’ll get your cut.” 

The man’s eyes glazed over as the words took root in his mind. “You have an important cargo that you need to be smuggled, I’ve seen the proof, I’ll get a cut.” 

The mind trick had taken hold with ease, setting up the next step in the plan he’d been quickly formulating. “You should take me to someone who can arrange that.” 

A vacant voice echoed him for a second time. “I should take you to someone who can arrange that.” 

Releasing the wrist he’d been holding and stepping away, he let his new companion lead the way. “I know where we need to go.” He mumbled, as though half in a dream. Now it all depended on him actually having connections to be exploited. 

Exiting the alley, they began a route through the city, the man leading him on steps that started out jerky and uneven, perhaps he was fighting what had been done to his mind. Obi-Wan let his focus remain on him, searching for any more signs he would break free. It only needed to last long enough for the next contact. Through crowded streets and aging buildings, they trekked, stopping at a simple box of steel marked by an unassuming sign that read: “Ranack’s Outpost”.  “We’ll find someone inside,” he gestured as he opened the door, and Obi-Wan followed him in. 

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

Chanting filled his thoughts, and his senses were overpowered with a scent like incense and spices from worlds he couldn’t name. They converged and melded, and the only clear thought was of Zelena and her hand softly brushing through his hair. Moving fitfully about where he lay, he faded in and out of consciousness until he no longer knew what was real and what was a dream. 

When his eyes groggily began to open, he realized at least parts of it had been very real. He was, in fact, laying across Zelena’s couch and her apartment looked very much like the hazy memories he had of walking inside. A quick assessment told him that she herself was not in the immediate vicinity. Head still foggy, he pushed up to a sitting position and further investigated his situation. The sparse apartment was like so many other homes on Tatooine, a place to survive in. “Zel”, he called, wondering where she’d gone off to. 

Taking a moment to get his unsteady legs under him, he began to idly explore her little space a bit more than the impressions he’d gotten upon entering. The kitchen was tidy and orderly, the living area sparse of much ornamentation except a rug on the ground that made it a little less austere. The shelf in the corner drew his eye again and he resolved to figure out some of what all that was at some point. Zelena still hadn’t made an appearance so he pressed on with the expedition.

Cautiously, he passed through the open doorway into her bedroom,a jumble of personal objects spread over a bureau and the bed vied for his attention, all bearing possible clues. A quick glance revealed another door on the side of the bed. The fresher, he surmised, hearing noise from within, the puzzle of where she had gone now solved. Likely, he should return to the less private part of her home before she emerged, seeing him here might make her suspicious. As he turned to go, something in the far corner caught his eye, a small statue on a table. 

Curiosity got the better of him, but it was the only indication he’d ever seen of her true past, and maybe the reason she had been hesitant to invite him inside. Just a quick glance, then he’d go back. A small sculpture of a woman stood on a low, simple table, in her hand was a bowl which held a few drops of a greenish liquid. Scattered around it were a curious collection of items; a small sharpened rock, a crystal almost as green as the liquid, bits of dried herbs, and a small skull of some sort. Below the table was a simple chest, that he knelt down to get a better look at. Looking as though it were an artifact from antiquity, he found it locked and couldn’t discern the mechanism to open it. Running a hand over it though, he was surprised he could feel it thrumming with power that made him recall his meeting with Mother Talzin. 

“Momentos from home.” A voice behind him spoke and he inhaled sharply, shocked she’d manage to not alert him before now. Could his head still be that foggy or was it some foul trick of hers? 

On guard, he stood slowly and turned to face her, trying to keep his expression from betraying him. For a moment today he’d forgotten himself, and wound up weakened and at her mercy, he needed to navigate this more carefully. Barely clad in her work uniform, she stood with a brush in her hand, and red curls, freshly cleaned by the sonic shower, tumbling around her shoulders. Thoughts frustratingly went hazy again as he cast around for how to respond. “There you are, I was just …” 

Her expression was as cold as an ancient grave. “You were snooping, Ben.” 

“Sorry, it’s just, I hadn’t ever seen anything like it and only intended to take a quick glance at it.” A little of the truth might give enough sincerity to his words that it would pacify her. Thus far he’d never known her to act violently, but the small shrine was an embodiment of the fact that she was, besides anything else, a Nightsister, and he didn’t know her capabilities. 

“Noted. If you’re feeling better, I think it’s time you leave. I need to get to work.” Her manner hadn’t warmed at all. 

“Right. Really, I am sorry about this.” There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, he’d been so close and now the one chance he had to do something useful, to prevent some evil from flourishing was possibly ruined. Like he ruined so much else, a voice inside insidiously whispered. Surrendering to her request, he turned and exited back to the living area. Zelena followed, ushering him from her secrets, all the while he remained wary she would do more in retaliation for the transgression.

“I have precious little left from my home, and I guard it above all things. Rarely do I show hospitality for that reason.” The chilly wrath was dissipating, leaving behind a melancholy he’d seen before when she spoke of what became of her family. “As you are my friend, I will try to let this go.” 

Despite all the thoughts of the malicious witch of moments ago, the words managed to sting him. He’d genuinely hurt her with his very intentional actions, something that he normally thought of as outside his character. Desperately he clung to the notion that it was a farce, this was all for show on her part, for reasons he didn’t understand. But the doubt was creeping back in, she could be like so many others, just a refugee trying to live after the horrors of war. And he was the monster, lying to and manipulating her. Turning to face her, he took one of her hands in his and held it gently, grateful she didn’t snatch it away. No matter the truth, he needed to fix what had been done. “Zelena, I promise I will make this up to you.” 

For the second time since he’d met her, he found himself in an unexpected embrace. This time he returned it quickly, if still a bit awkwardly, feeling the press of her outline through the thin uniform. Face resting against her curls, that exotic scent from his dream overtook him once more. While he breathed it in, trying to form some distinct conclusion from everything that had occurred today, he swore he heard her sniffle, and his mind reeled, scattering his thoughts again. He’d made her cry, what noble and Jedi-like behavior on his part. Sorrow beat against his mind, once again she pierced through whatever it was that blocked his connection to the Force, and he felt her raw emotions, tearing apart the last of his confidence in the rightness of his plot. Perhaps he’d been so caught up in having a mission and purpose again, that he’d been blind to the truth. He’d wanted an enemy he could fight, a wrong he could conquer, to feel useful. 

He let her linger there, head resting against his shoulder, far longer than he really should, until she sighed softly. “I should get going, if I’m late Malk will cut my hours.” Letting go, she backed away, emotions pushed aside it would seem. “We can worry about this later, just give me some time for now.” 

“Absolutely.” Time was what he needed himself, time to clear his head, evaluate everything, even going back to the start of all this. “I’ll be back, I promise.” 

The cloak that had been discarded when she’d brought him in waited for him near the door, and he bent to retrieve it, overwhelmed still by how quickly events had unfolded. With one last look back at her to see unease still written across her features, he exited back out into the dying day, exiled for the time being. 

In the weeks that followed, he resolved to stay a distant from Mos Eisley as possible, only going so far from the cave as Anchorhead for work, falling back into the routine he’d had before she disembarked the transport that had brought her to Tatooine. Strictly avoiding any place he could possibly encounter her was the goal. The two images he had of Zelena warred in his mind; Nightsisters wove magic that was steeped in the dark side, and allied themselves with the Sith when it was convenient, not to mention the slavery of the Nightbrothers, but Zelena was a healer who had been nothing but kind, and kept mostly to herself, not seemingly interested in anything beyond the life she was building. She had been on Tatooine for months, couldn’t she have tried something by now? Would she not have used his acquaintance, knowing he was familiar with traversing the planet, to look for Luke, if that's what she wanted? To combat the turmoil in his mind, he tried mediating several times, looking to discern the truth. Unsurprisingly, it did nothing to guide him, the Force seemingly having totally rejected him. Perhaps it was the final toll for his failures. Whatever the cause, all it gave him were more nightmares, with even more old memories dredged to the surface. 

The shifts in the mine were a trial unto themselves, grueling and intense. Companies often extracted what they could from the planet as quickly as possible, with little thought to the workers that made it possible. Already he’d lost a few comrades down in the depths, and they still couldn’t extract enough metal to make it profitable. Likely soon it would end up like most other mining ventures, a dead site with equipment being claimed by the sand and him having to find new employment to keep fed. The idea crossed his mind to look for something closer to the Lars homestead if he could, easier to keep an eye on things. Luke was growing faster than he could believe, already keen on trying to explore by himself as Owen and Beru chased after him. 

It was while he observed this spectacle, one evening from a distance that kept Owen from spotting him, that he finally felt his mind had settled enough that he would be comfortable seeing Zelena again. The time had come to decide if she really was a threat at all, and he had a bit of a plan to both appease her for his transgression and hopefully gwt her talking as much as possible. To that end, he planned his departure for early the next morning, before the sun rose. Both he and Akkani would be more comfortable the further they got before dawn. By some miracle, that night as he slept, there was only darkness to be had in his dreams. 

When he set out, leaving the cave with a couple days worth of supplies, he found Akkani, waiting with eagerness, as though to encourage him on. The path he took now seemed unavoidable to him, and likely the decision was long overdue, whatever had been holding him back. His patient friend took him across the sands and to the edge of the lively metropolis, the long ride giving him even more time to ponder, though he knew he’d find the answer when he spoke to her again. When they reached the outskirts, he stabled the Eopie and walked the rest of the distance to Zelena’s apartment. 

The first thing he noticed when he arrived was that Kyrsta’s speeder was gone and he wondered if she’d had to pay to have it fixed. Once she had mentioned to him saving up to move out of the crowded tenements, and his inability to fix the speeder had probably set her back considerably. It caused him a pang of guilt that he fended off by reminding himself he hadn’t made up his mind about her yet. That recollection was another piece of the puzzle though, he thought as he recalled that particular conversation. “I’ll get a nice place, marry some handsome, roguish pilot and settle down. Maybe even have a couple of children.” Walking beside him, she described the scene with a lighthearted tone and a smile, and he’d stared at her for a moment. “Don’t tell me you're jealous of my plan Ben.” 

At the time, he’d been trying to decide if she was sincere, the same question that haunted him still. “No just trying to picture you chasing around a brood the size of Nagla’s.” He teased to deflect her scrutiny. 

Now, less sure even than that day, he needed to press forward. Reaching Zelena’s door he hesitated only a moment before pressing the button for the buzzer. As he waited, he began to feel a dread that he hadn’t bothered rehearsing what he was going to say. After a nervous moment the door remained shut and he rang again,just wanting to get to it. Dejectedly he concluded it was possible he’d already missed her and he would have to try again later. As he was halfway set on leaving and doing just that, the door slid open.

Zelena stood there in a nightgown of undyed, plain cloth, eyes still heavy with sleep and posture guarded. “Ben?” She asked groggily. 

“Zel.” The word had hardly left his mouth and stinging pain bloomed on his cheek. Before he could react to dodge, she’d fiercely slapped him, leaving him speechless for a few seconds. “Ow.” 

“Weeks! You’ve been gone for weeks!” She was no longer quite so sleepy sounding. 

“You said give you space.” Rubbing his now sore cheek, he tried to defend himself. 

“That didn’t mean disappear for a ridiculous amount of time. Are you simple minded Ben Kenobi?” She raged, drawing the attention of some of her neighbors. 

“I didn’t think so before this but now…” It looked as though he’d be making penance for this as well, though her concern was leaving a warmth in his chest.

“I’ve had everyone asking around about you. I was worried, I-” Pulling her into his arms, her words were cut off as she wrapped herself around him. “I’m glad you’re not dead out in the dunes somewhere.”

“I missed you too, Zel.” Letting go, he backed up a pace, putting a little distance between them, it seemed a necessity to pull away from the emotions at play. “And I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

“Nevermind that, come inside.” Taking his hand, she nearly began to drag him behind her. It wasn’t lost on him that she’d essentially seemed to have forgiven his earlier transgression and was as warm as ever with him. “You can tell me how you plan to make everything up to me.” 

Forgiven but not forgotten it would seem. “I might have something in mind.”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x ofc #obi wan x oc #orginal character #nightsister oc #nightsister #a fate written in indifferent stars #obi wan kenobi x ofc #my fanfiction

[crowsandmurder]

Padmé Amidala TAGS ETC.

Padmé ✖ (Aesthetics)

Padmé  ✖ (Thoughts)

Padmé  ✖ (Character Development)

Padmé  ✖ (Crack)

Padmé  ✖ (Headcanons)

Padmé  ✖ (Photos)

Padmé  ✖ (Starter Call)

Padmé  ✖ (Verses)

VERSES:

Q U E E N  O F  N A B O O 

A young Padmé Naberrie becomes Queen of Naboo, taking the name Queen Amidala. She served two terms and was loved by her people. That did not mean that it was a time of peace, though.  There were a lot of battles to be fought, internally and externally, during her reign.

S E N A T O R  A M I D A L A 

After serving two terms as Queen, Padmé is ready to leave the crown behind but becomes senator of Naboo. She handles many important things, and is still in danger, constantly. 

S E N A T O R  A N D  W I F E  O F  A  J E D I

After an assassination on her life, she is put under the protection of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan Anakin Skywalker, who she knows, from her days as Queen. Soon, Anakin is sent to guard her in Naboo and sparks fly between them.  She is never one to stay out of trouble and between the two of them, they wind up nearly dying more than once, and marry, all in just a few weeks time. Now, they have the Clone Wars to deal with, her career as a Senator, his new Knighthood and being made a General in the Wars. 

T H I S  I S  H O W  L I B E R T Y  D I E S

The war is declared over. Chancellor Palpatine has declared himself Emperor. Anakin is acting crazy, and is even trying to get her to run away with him.  She fears for her unborn child’s life, and doesn’t know what to do.  Could she run away with him or was she going to have to be firm and risk the consequences? How did everything fall apart so fast? 

L E T ‘ S  H A V E  O U R  B A B Y  O N  N A B O O

Anakin doesn’t have the first nightmare, and the morning after finding out she is pregnant, they disappear to Naboo.  She hides away for the rest of her pregnancy, and has two healthy babies.  Anakin keeps talking of leaving the Order and she really wants him to. She knows that there is a new regime in place, but they have their own happy world, here. 

S H E  W A S  A L I V E 

Padmé suffered greatly, at the hands of Anakin’s force choke, and now she knows that she has to make him think she is dead. Naboo isn’t a safe place for them. So with the help of Yoda and Obi-Wan, she disappears.  But, she doesn’t know if it will work and if Padmé Amidala can truly disappear. 

FACECLAIMS:

Natalie Portman

BIOGRAPHY:

Padmé Naberrie, publicly Padmé Amidala comes from the planet of Naboo.  She served two terms as Queen, and was asked to serve a third term but declined.  She did continue into public service and become Senator of Naboo.  She also became the secret wife of Anakin Skywalker, at the beginning of the Clone Wars.  She was not one to sit idly and let things fall apart during the war. She tried to do what she could from the Senate, despite feeling like nothing was working and being separated from her husband, far too much of the time.

Towards the end of the war, she discovered she was pregnant, and once Anakin finally returned, she told him. They were happy but once he started having nightmares that she would die in childbirth, he became impossible to calm down about it, and it would prove a disaster, felt within the galaxy.  When she heard of him turning to the dark side, she went to him and in his anger, he force choked her.  She later gave birth to twins, Luke and Leia, who would prove to be important.  She did not survive.

Padme was strong, independent, handy with a blaster.  She knew how to stand up for herself, her people, and  she was loved by many. 

[This is left vague on purpose, to allow for room as she is primarily headcanon based]

#Padmé ✖ (Aesthetics) #Padmé ✖ (Thoughts) #Padmé ✖ (Character Development) #Padmé ✖ (Crack) #Padmé ✖ (Headcanons) #Padmé ✖ (Photos) #Padmé ✖ (Starter Call) #Padmé ✖ (Verses) #V: Queen of Naboo #V: Senator Amidala #V: Senator and Wife of a Jedi #V: This is how liberty dies #V: Let's have our baby on Naboo #V: She was alive #✖ [Character: Padmé Amidala]

[nevertheless-moving]

Imagine Luke and Leia ending up in the clone wars era but all of their force abilities are “what the actual fuck?” levels of bullshit, and neither of them ever realized that the things they could do with the force were considered extremely high level techniques.

that is one of my FAVORITE things to imagine yes. To me this is less about ‘Skywalker bullshit’ (though there is some of that) and more about the training they (didn’t) receive.

The high-Midi-chlorians-actual-descendents-of-the-force thing makes it easier to tap into the force, makes it more possible to do so without accidentally exhausting yourself. But, in universe, under the right circumstances and with the properly channeled belief anyone can do anything. That’s why Palpatine had to make the galaxy want an empire, why his first strategy was misdirection and his top priority was crushing hope. Chirrut was supposedly force-null and he walked through an army. Han navigated that astroid field because he had to. The force is everywhere. 

In an amusing but possibly unintended turn of events, 6-12 weeks of training in a swamp with an elderly frog who only talks in riddles without ever being exposed to Jedi culture except as a myth is actually IDEAL if you’re looking to maximize a Jedi’s raw strength. Most Jedi training that we see in the prequels is explicitly designed to put the breaks on a force-users raw power (for honestly very valid reasons). Channeling all violence through a single weapon that will start screaming if you get too violent, training to use it defensively, is definitely the soft-ball alternative to just squashing people like meatballs. 

Meditating, wearing beige, the code, shunning attachments, all that stuff is built around making sure force users never run above first or second gear even in stressful situations (again valid, when you run your jedi in the red sometimes they become murder monsters). The downside of this is that when they’re forced to maintain that placid pace for years at a time (i.e: prolonged war), they’re much more likely to burn out.

When Yoda told Luke do or do not, told him a luminous being was he, told him size matters not, the amazing thing isn’t that Luke believed him. That was karking objectively provable. Yoda lifted a spaceship, so now Luke knows he can too if he just thinks he can. So he does. Vader and Palpatine conquered a galaxy. Luke believes he can stop worlds, crush armies, conquer planets and so he can. 

The incredible thing about Luke is what he doesn’t do despite being tapped into the Force utterly free of mental restraint. Luke’s op character trait is his compassion, not his strength.

I assume at some point Luke puts Leia through a similar 2 month meditation class where he convinces her that her only limitations are the ones she imposes on herself. She has a complete meltdown when she realizes that she actually could have boiled Tarkin alive with her mind and saved Alderann. This causes a volcano to go off, devastating the ecology of a small moon. On the flight home, both of them slightly charred, she tells Luke that she wanted to focus on politics and didn’t really want to be a Jedi anyway. Luke nods quickly, supporting her decision, and resolves to seek out some Jedi texts about how to teach people they can do anything but also...maybe...not...anything.

And thus the Jedi order is reborn.

- - -

In the time travel version of this, it means that Luke is assuming that all of the Jedi are restraining themselves like he is. And they are, but they also aren’t, because their breaks are subconscious, built in since childhood, and have a lot of failsafes so even if they turn darkside they still restrain themselves pretty good (a la Dooku). 

Leia is, again, less interested with the Jedi-specific aspects of the war (especially now that she doesn’t have to feel guilty about being one of the only people who can pick up that mantle) and more interested in the diplomatic side. Again, Palpatine can only succeed if the galaxy at large accepts this, and from where she’s standing they’re fucking moving in that direction. If being a Jedi is tapping into the mystical energy field that binds all living things together to channel it through one specific person in one specific place, then politics is manipulating that same power for a diffuse impact on as many people as possible. 

This status-quo lasts until a major clone wars battle where Luke’s like ‘wait- the entire other side is sub-sentient droids? No living beings, and no droids with complex personality matrices? And they’re currently, actively killing living, sentient humans? Well kriff, come on! This is a no-brainer!’

Luke takes a deep breath. The air- it doesn’t disappear or anything- but it- it stops moving. It’s hard to explain...but breathing has an odd...resistance. The hair on the back of every clone’s neck stands up. Several get vaguely sea sick. One pukes a little. Plo Koon stumbles back, head ringing and afraid.

Luke Skywalker stands up and clenches his fists. 10,000 droids crumple like flimsi in the hands of a child. The battlefield is eerily quiet for a moment, then that imperceptible hum (which no one noticed until it stopped) fades and the air returns to its normal density. A few of the shinies start whooping, then the whole battalion is cheering.

Luke massages his temples, smiling wryly at Master Koon. “I guess I can see how that would get exhausting if you were doing it everyday.”

Plo Koon just stares.

#crunchbuttsteak #ask #star wars #nevertheless meta #luke skywalker #long post #my au #star wars au no 33 #unrestrained au

[deniigi]

Please have some Skywalker Babies + Uncle Rex.

----

Title: skittles

Summary: Padme dies, but Anakin doesn't turn and as a result ends up with two little ones who are, naturally, adopted by the 501st--well, Leia is. Luke keeps getting stolen by a filthy thief.

------

Rex has the twins for now. He has never felt terror like this before. He can’t stop checking over his shoulders for threats to their teeny tiny persons.

In his humble opinion, it should be illegal for humans to be born this small. He ran it past Ahsoka recently and she agreed, but she also provided intelligence that the twins’ size was not necessarily average for their species, either.

The other brothers helped him investigate this. They all gathered round and put the holonet searches on the projector so that they didn’t have to smash buckets over a datapad screen to be educated. Their search for ‘newborn natborn human baby’ was rewarded with images upon images of reddened tubies with big, round bellies and curled up limbs.

They did a new search for ‘2 weeks, natborn human baby’ and were rewarded with even more pictures, to which they held the twins up next to and found them wanting. The twins’ proportions were all wrong, their limbs were too skinny, their faces pinched. The babies on the holonet didn’t have hair, but their baby girl did.

The conclusion was that the research was inconclusive. Further, it was interrupted by the resident thief coming in to take his chances. Cody told them later, upon returning their baby boy, that they were better than this. Kenobi wasn’t slick. They needed to stop letting their guards now.

He said all this while ignoring the way the baby boy burrowed into the side of his throat and made smacking noises.

Such a strong man, that Cody. He is, unfortunately, not available now even though Rex has both twins and a heart attack waiting to happen.

The Thief is nearby. Rex can sense him. He heads back the way he came.

 --

The baby girl, who has a name, but Anakin is too heartbroken to speak it, fists her hands at Rex and shakes them as if to threaten him into compliance. He does not know how to help her understand that he has not taken the blanket off her face out of malice, but rather to keep her from suffocating. She is angry with him regardless. She is often angry with him and endlessly crying when he does not put her exactly where she wants to be exactly when she wants it.

The thief calls her a princess, and so everyone else has started doing the same in lieu of her name. The child is bound to grow up thinking her name itself is ‘Princess’ at this rate. Ahsoka has been trying out different titles for her, but she doesn’t respond to them in the same way.

For all that the princess is royalty through and through, the baby boy is thoroughly a commoner. Catching him awake is a miracle. Part of that is because his waking hours are spent with the Thief, since Kenobi has decided, for some mysterious reason, that this child is his favorite of all in existence. He will not be separated from this child and when he is, he gets crafty in his attempts to get him back.

The princess does not like Kenobi. At all, period. He touches her and she screams and reaches her stubby hands for Rex. If Rex is not available to be screamed for, she will wail until her father comes to stuff her in his tunic.

Anakin is fine to hold the princess, but he cannot look upon the baby boy, even to feed him. He looks so much like his mother. It is a struggle for everyone—except Kenobi. Rex wonders aloud to Ahsoka if Kenobi will raise the boy on his own and a moment of silence fills the canteen.

Ahsoka throws herself from the room and goes sprinting for the masters’ quarters.

 --

 The twins are tested for Force Sensitivity and it becomes abundantly clear why Kenobi continues hoard the baby boy against all sense and wisdom. He is described by the jedi as a ‘sun’ in the Force. The princess too, but her presence in the Force blends in with her father’s until she is gazed upon in Rex’s Force-empty grip.

Only then is she, too, declared a star.

Twin stars, they are called.

‘Kenobi, put that down,’ the boy is named. ‘Kenobi, give that back,’ is his middle one.

The first time Rex sees the baby boy awake, he is startled by how blue his eyes are. His sister’s are dark, but his are light like water at the base of a waterfall. He makes a little sound and turns his heavy head to the side to blink at Rex’s forearm.

He is the older of the two, but the Princess is already overtaking him in weight. Kenobi has been scolded for this. In return, he locks everyone out of his quarters.

 --

 The twins are two months old when they stop being blinky-maggots and turn into smiley ones. Anakin cannot put the princess down or she will scream until she is blue in the face. As such their dedicated General can be found with his arms full, slowly banging his head against the nearest hard object.

He calls her ‘Leia.’ Princess Leia.

The baby boy is ‘Luke.’ Just Luke.

Anakin spends his time these days bouncing Leia and on the hunt for his son. He walks like a zombie towards Kenobi’s door and plasters his back against it. He slides down and tries desperately not to fall asleep at the bottom.

He will not let Rex take the princess when he’s in this state. He wants only for Kenobi to open the door so that he can fall back onto his floor and demand his son. Kenobi never gives him his son back. There is no longer any question that baby Luke is Kenobi’s child. The fact that he’s been produced by Anakin and Padme is a footnote in the broader history being made here.

Kenobi will, however, take Princess Leia, too, if left unsupervised. She still hates him—more than ever, really, but he doesn’t mind. He likes to lay the twins out together so that Leia’s jerky fussing will ruin Luke’s sleep cycles.

Kenobi is a man with no respect for the law in these parts. More jedi masters have to step in to get him under control. Master Koon takes the most pity on Anakin and gives him both of his children. The masters and the clones watch him stagger up with both babies and drunkenly return to their quarters.

A note is made to check on all three of them in fifteen minutes.

 --

 The twins, at 6 months old, have developed even more distinct personalities and hair. So much hair. Ahsoka puts Leia’s hair in pigtails and Leia will scream if anyone tries to adjust them or if she feels that they are falling out of shape.

Rex’s hands were once clumsy around ring-sized rubber bands. He is now an expert. He is such an expert that he can even make the occasional one stay in Luke’s slippery hair, which, of course, invokes an expression of betrayal in Luke that is so comical, Rex can’t see it without being brought to tears.

Luke hates him for this. He whimpers for his father—no, not that one. The good one.

These days, Kenobi is a cat who has gotten the cream.

The boy called him ‘dada’ before he gave the name to Anakin, and Kenobi nearly lost his life for it. He regrets nothing. He is technically barred from being around Luke, both by the other jedi and by Anakin specifically, but rules are things for other people in Kenobi’s world.

Anakin threatens him with bodily harm at every opportunity that he is not holding his daughter upside down.

She enjoys this. This is not just a daddy-thing to her either; she expects everyone to carry her like this. If not feet-to-the-sky, then at least draped over an arm, face-down like a sack of flour. She hums the way a cat would purr.

 --

 At nine months the babes are mobile and it is the worst thing that has happened to Anakin besides Padme’s death. They are not effectively mobile, but they are professionals at grabbing things and hauling themselves up to their chubby feet. Leia holds onto the fingers of anyone she can get and makes every brother who passes her walk her on their feet to her chosen destination.

Luke is a little slower.

He can get to his feet, but what he wants is to bounce there. If anyone tries to hold his hands, he clams up and falls down and doesn’t get up.

Anakin has begun negotiating with Leia to be more like her brother. She laughs at his face in great peels when he does this. She finds his serious expressions hilarious and wants to cuddle him anytime they appear which is great for domestic time and not so great for council or state meetings. Anakin has taken to appearing before these people with Leia latched around his ankle. Only her, though. Luke can’t bear being in the presence of so many bodies at once. He becomes overwhelmed and handles the pressure by going to sleep. Or crying.

For Kenobi, of course.

And when Kenobi is not around, they all may as well go start digging their own graves before the guilt propels them to do it anyways.

Luke is not a big crier. Anakin can’t understand him. They’ve had many conversations about telling adults when he needs things, all of which Luke elects to ignore in favor of trying to eat bugs and dig in sand.

The latter is the greatest sin that Anakin can dream of.

--

I just think that, given the opportunity, Obi-Wan would be the best grandpa ever and by best, I mean he would see his chance to have a baby and Anakin would end up chasing him around going ‘he’s MY mistake and MY responsibility, you crusty old fucker, give him back’ while Obi-Wan talks to Ahsoka about how nice the weather is.

#star wars #captain rex #Anakin Skywalker #Luke Skywalker #leia organa #Obi-Wan Kenobi #ficlet #fic #don't mind me I'm just over here doing shit other people have probably done already without a damn care in the world

[thewriterowl]

Now that the world has been blessed with Tooka!Luke, I was wondering if you had any headcanons about him? 👀👀👀

Oh you have unleashed this!! and for those of you who are unaware of this beautiful, gorgeous piece by @mxxnfish please take the time to look at it and reblog and love it.

So, Tooka-Luke got his hybrid-blood from his father. Anakin has the same physical attributes and has it from his mother's bloodline. He was still saved by the Jedi and went down his path...and Luke was given to his relatives but due to his appearance he was captured by lucky slavers and (for one reason or another) Kenobi was unable to save him before the whole New Hope.

Luke is super sweet and cuddly and loves attention and to be close to a physical body...before he was captured at least. He was beaten and done very poorly to break his stubbornness by the slavers so he is now a bit distrustful and hissy. He doesn't like to talk as much as he used to and he flinches from most people. He bites a lot if someone gets too close.

He's still sweet though; Luke is just has to be kind and gentle and forgiving and warm. He can't help it. Just don't back him into a corner or try to hurt the other hybrids and slaves, then he'll jump out and attack to keep them safe.

As said in the picture, Din either saves Luke or he receives Luke as a gift as being the newly crowned Mand'alor. Either way, he looks at this cute, sexy sunshine and is all "marry now, talk later."

(Din is a little obsessed with his precious to-be-Riduur as he should be)

Luke isn't trustful of him at first, which is fair, but seems to understand Din is a good man...though he can smell there is some sort of lust on him, but he doesn't act on it so Luke either thinks it's not directed at him, is something else, or is just a good guy. But Din has really nice large, warm hands and he pets really nice...so Luke starts to look out for his hands when he can for attention

(Din melts in a lustful, loving, 'omg too cute' pile of goo each time though his expression is hidden behind his helmet)

As speaking with @inky-starlight Luke looks good in almost any outfit. Tooka-Luke also looks good in any outfit. Soon he is being dressed up in a way so his cute ears and tail are nicely highlighted.

Where his tail meets his backside and his big ears are very sensitive parts of his body. Luke will practically collapse when the right amount of attention is placed on him and these areas.

Luke likes getting in Din's lap. If Din is sitting down, Luke will probably crawl on him. he doesn't mean for it to be sexual...but there are times when Din's brain short-circuits.

Many people are very jealous of Din.

Din, of course, is very protective over Luke. He knows people would still kidnap Luke for themselves or to get credits if given the chance, regardless of who his spouse is. He keeps Luke close or inside or with guards. He, sadly, can't go out on his own too often unless they are on a safe planet or they're in special areas of Mandalore (where he is still probably guarded). Luke isn't too upset about this as he likes being around people. He still gets alone time (as Din understands this need) when he's inside.

His collar was removed instantly when Din got him...but as a hybrid, he sometimes has something in him that finds comfort in that. So Din got him a specialized collar that is soft and pretty and that Luke can remove and put on by himself rather than being controlled by another. Din may urge for him to wear it when they go out just as an extra precaution to keep people at bay from kidnapping him.

When Luke falls in love with Din, he shows it. It's on his face and he greets Din happily and warmly and with so much adoration and excitement that it's like they were apart for weeks rather than maybe a couple of hours. (yes, Din melts over this as well...and may respond in kind)

Luke is a bit smol. Din is a bit thic. so Din can carry Luke. Luke really likes this and will hug his neck and nuzzle their cheeks together, beaming and purring.

Luke still has Jedi in him. Which means he jumps. He likes to get on tall places and can easily fall off them and land without injury (he's part cat and part jedi and part Skywalker??? his need to do dangerous things is off the wall)

Din may suffer a few heart-attacks when Luke does this. Even if he knows Luke will be fine, it still makes him flinch. The first few times Luke did this, Din nearly fainted. ("MY (other) BABY!!!")

Paz is not allowed to be alone with Luke. They're idiots together. Because Luke is smol and Paz is a mountain, Paz will throw luke in the air, much to the Tooka's delight. They also want to go jump off things or go fast when together. Paz is Luke's favorite guard and they become close friends. Paz will sometimes let Luke sit on his shoulders so he can see what it's like to feel tall.

Boba is also not allowed to be alone with Luke. Because he is a handsome flirt and Luke likes him and wants to sit on his lap as well. (Boba may have actually felt a little bit of fear the first time Luke got into his lap and he felt Din's murderous glare...he then proceeded to make Din suffer cause their BFFs and he's an ass...and Luke is attractive)

Grogu loves Luke's ears and tail. Especially the tail. Luke lets him play with it and wiggles it around to keep the child entertained.

Luke also loves Grogu and curls around him to protect him when they sleep. Grogu and Luke purr together. Eventually, when Din gets in, he is surrounded by purring family and he is beyond words of happy.

God i am gonna have to write a fic of this won't I?

#owl inbox #luke skywalker #dinluke #jealous din is a fave

[djarrex]

Goth Gf Anon🤙

Alright, alright, alright. Since that Tech piece was fucking phenomenal a d you said you don't get any thots of your faves, I'll lend one of my Fives thots.

So, it's the end of the war, Chancellor Palpatine had been exposed for his plot against the Jedi and executed for treason. The Republic and Seperatists made peace treaties upon realizing they were played on both sides. The war is over, Fives is a war hero, a statue in front of the Jedi Temple in his honor. But he could care less when you're smiling at him, tears in your eyes with the proudest glow on your face.

The Clone production on Kamino is halted, leaving the troopers, cadets and infants in a limbo. The Senate passes a bill allowing the Clones unalienable rights, passing adoption bills allowing civilians to adopt baby clones as their own. The Jedi also demand each and every clone has their chips removed. Scientists are working on a serum to slow their aging process down back to normal.

Fives rejoiced in victory, finally happy that the war was over and his brothers were treated as humans. But you.

He was over the fucking moons that he could be with you, not a war, battles or campaigns to keep you apart.

He marries you within the week of the marriage bill being passed.

You move to Naboo, Anakin had left the Jedi Order and started a home with Padmé and his twins, they visit you often, dropping off Luke and Leia when they're off on Senate business or off doing young couple things.

Fives loves seeing you with the twins, there's just something so domestic about it. When he sees you take care of them, make them giggle, feed them. And when the Skywalkers come back and praise you for taking such good care of their babies... it stirs something primal in his gut.

You two are intimate one night-- like many after you married. He's crawling up on his peak, he's right there, his brain switches off, spit firing shit as his thrusts start to stutter like the words rolling from his tongue, thick as honey.

"Y-you-- you looked so good with those-- shit!-- those fuckin' kids!"

"Wanna make you! Fuck, baby-- I'm g-gonna m-make you a fucking mother-- oh shit!"

"Gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart!"

And you're thinking: "What a pleasant turn of events."

Then you just start fucking feeding him.

"Yes, yes, yes, Fives! Anything you want! We'll fucking grow old together!"

You moan, "Put a fucking baby in me, cum deep."

And he can't hold it anymore, an inhuman sound ripped out of his chest and tearing through his throat as he slams into you one more time, his spend shooting deep. 11/10 best orgasm he's had.

Afterwards, you both talk it out. You've always thought about starting a family with him, thinking about how good of a father he would be considering the way he always looked out for his brothers. Fives explains himself a little more clearer after the fact, and you decide you'll go to the med center to get your contraceptive implant removed the next time it has to be replaced. You've decided you wanted to start a family with him.

Apologies if this was lackluster, I don't usually write smut lines lol.

Ciao ;)

!!!HOLY OMTHER OF GOD

I...I- don't even know how to respond to this. it’s late I KNOW but I’ve been trying to come up with a worthy reply. 

whyyyyy did I start fucking tearing up when going through each word in the first half WHY this is so beautiful and Fives deserves so much more and I love him. this is perfect, you are perfect. when he starts blurting out his desires "Wanna make you! Fuck, baby-- I'm g-gonna m-make you a fucking mother-- oh shit!" I- uh- yeah. that sent me. "What a pleasant turn of events" LMAO. ME. please write this as a fic. lackluster? mmmm no not even close. I love this

But seriously, how do I even add anymore to this already perfect droplet of heaven you so graciously placed in my inbox. tbh though, my gutter brain immediately wants to analyze how that night goes:

(18+ only!!! fluff, breeding kink, unprotected piv) 

***

you were blissfully unaware of the way Fives gawked at you earlier today - how he watched you with so much love and adoration in his eyes as you giggled with Luke and cradled Leia to sleep

It didn’t feel appropriate, but he couldn’t help but get hard at the vision playing out in front of him - wholesome domesticity, soft giggles, and hushed coos filled his very own living room and he just needed to step away to take care of his painfully hard and aching erection      

Fives can't help it - up until recently he was sure on having a dark fate, one that either involved being killed on the front, or worse: never being able to truly make you his because of his sole duty to fight for the Republic just would not allow such a peaceful and perfect life - it would hurt you more than he would care to live through

He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted the twins to be his - living, breathing, beautiful humans that you and him had created out of love, and, well, good fucking sex

So Fives came back from the bathroom after tugging himself raw - trying to alleviate that wanting ache that’d been sitting heavy deep in his bones and showing its face in the form of starving arousal - and the Skywalker’s had returned from Coruscant to pick up their babies

Fives hadn’t turned the corner yet - the soft voices coming from the three of you, keeping quiet while the twins were finally asleep, stopped him in his tracks. He heard the way Padmé praised you and thanked you over and over for always watching the kids, and Anakin cooing in the sweetest voice Fives had ever heard his former General speak in right at his own sleeping babies.

Your own voice was extremely soft and kind, careful as to not wake the twins up in the hand-over. Fives’ heart - and cock - were aching.

That's what Fives is thinking of as he’s pounding you into the next system - watching with hungry eyes at how your pussy so beautifully swallows his cock, yet he can't help but be slightly distracted when all these thoughts about filling you full with his seed are stemming from how motherly and breathtaking you looked when interacting with the Skywalker twins - how you always look when you’re watching them

You’re both so close to finishing - Fives groans at the way your walls squeeze unforgivingly around him as you approach your climax - a sight that is most devine to him. He’s right there as well - the relentless clenching of your cunt sure as hell pushes him right there to where he’s about to-

“Y-you looked so good with the - mmph - the twins" he doesn’t even realize he’d just voiced his thoughts aloud - albeit, in the form of a growl - until he sees how your eyes widen after struggling to come down from your first high 

He’s no where near embarrassed - perhaps it was finally fucking time to let you know just how painfully hard you make him when you’re all motherly and in caretaker mode 

The way your features morph from being caught in surprise to desperation and hunger completely takes the filter off of him - and he begins voicing his plans for the two of you in the heat of the moment

“Wanna - aghh- fuck a b-aby into this sweet p-pussy” his teeth are clenched tightly together as he continuously hits that exquisite spot so deep within your heat and your head is positively spinning at his shameless confessions - fuck, you want him to make good on his word. 

“Fuck... you’re nearly ch-oking my cock, pretty thing,” he grits out between heavy pants. “You want me to, hm? Wanna let me - mmphh -  fill you so f-fucking deep that you swell with my child?”

Your body is on fucking fire - you’ve never heard Fives speak of this before, and boy oh boy it is 100% welcome right about now. Yes, yes you want that so, so bad but you never thought to bring it up before because everything was still new with how the galaxy has changed for the better... but right now - you’re going to fucking feed him so he can have the best orgasm he’s ever had

“Yes, love, please,” you’re whimpering those three words like a prayer over and over between loud, uncontrollable moans - completely taken by him and the way he looks so gorgeous in this determined and concentrative state. “Shit, fill me up with our child,” you punctuate your mewling request with the repetition of his name - you’re hitting your climax again but this one is about to utterly wreck you like never before. “Right now.”

Fives’ eyes clamp shut and the sweat on his brow is beginning to drop from his forehead to your bare chest with how he is hovered over you - your soft but commanding words has the most gargled and loud groan erupt from deep within his chest as he stills his hips

You can feel the way his cock pulsates so far inside of you - liquid warmth spitting from the head and no doubt seeping into your cervix

You’re both completely out of breath and totally fucked-out - you think that’s the most Fives has ever cum, and you’re just staring up at him with the sweetest smile you can muster in your exhausted state

“We can talk about it more later, but...” Fives rubs at his neck after hauling himself off of you - pulling you close to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around your torso. 

“No need,” you say softly - your hands wrapping around his forearms. “I’ll have them remove the implant on my next visit.”

Your words of promise has Fives uncontrollably getting hard again

***

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#goth gf anon #god-tier thot ty non-non #fuck. I love him #he deserves a happy ending. jfc please give it to him #thots with M #arc trooper fives x reader #arc trooper fives smut #18+ #djarrex writes #fives x reader #arc trooper fives

[imagineyourworld]

Misunderstanding

Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Summary: After the war Echo runs into you and Rex, who he mistakes for your husband and the father of your children 

Warnings: Mention of death and war

Check out more of my work here

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The moment Echo saw you a thousand memories came rushing back: Your soft hands on his cheek. Your lips on his lips. Your lips on his skin. How your skin tasted under his lips. Your careless laughter as he carried you home after one too many drinks. That time you showed him how to brew the perfect cup of calming tea. The way you said his name and how your voice sounded when you told him you loved him. The happy smile when the two of you reunited after his supposed death. And the sad smile when you told him that you couldn’t go with him.  That had been almost three years ago now. At first both of you had made an effort to talk every day, then, as the war got busier, every other day until it was every week, once a month and then, a little more than two years ago, the two of you had said your last goodbyes.  But now here you were, looking not a day older, and even more beautiful, than the last time Echo had seen you.  He took a moment to just look at you. Your hair was a bit shorter, maybe a shade of two darker as well, and your style had changed. During your relationship he had mostly seen you in your scrubs at work or sweats at home, now you looked more comfortable in your clothes, more like yourself.  Too late, only after he had already called your name and you had turned around, did Echo notice that you were holding the hand of a little girl. Her curious eyes looked him up and down before turning to you. She said something Echo couldn’t hear, but he did see the smile that lit up your face as you walked closer, pulling the girl along with you.  “Echo, I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?”, you asked.  You still said his name the same way, your smile was the same and your eyes lit up like they always did when you looked at him, but all Echo could focus on was the little girl, who was staring at him. Was she yours? The daughter you had with someone else? Someone who had replaced Echo in your heart? He should have known this would happen, it had to eventually, but that didn’t help the pain, not when Echo himself had thought of you ever day for the past three years, when he never stopped loving you.  “I... I decided that it might be time for me to settle, and since most of my brothers have made their lives here on Coruscant I thought I would do the same.”  Echo didn’t add that there had also been the small hope that you might still be living on Coruscant.  “So you’re gonna stay here? That’s amazing, we’ll have to catch up some time soon”, you said, the smile on your face growing with every word. Echo just nodded. What else was he supposed to say? Luckily he didn’t have to say anything else, because the girl took the opportunity to insert herself into the conversation.  “Who are you?”, she asked, her expression both curious and vary.  You looked down at her with a stern expression but fondness in your eyes.  “Leia, you could’ve asked a bit more nicely. But this is Echo”, you told her. Your eyes went away from the girl to focus on Echo. “He’s... and old... friend.”  Yes, the words stung, but Echo understood that it was probably the best way to introduce your daughter to your ex boyfriend.  “And Echo, this is Leia, sh-”, you started, but were soon interrupted by a small voice calling out the girl’s name.  Another child, a boy, appeared, with a big smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand.  “Guess what I have!”, he said with a grin, holding the bag out for the girl to peek into.  Echo was now looking at the boy. He didn’t seem to be older or younger than the girl, so maybe he wasn’t another child of yours but Leia’s friend. Though they did look somewhat alike.  “Luke, you can’t run off like that”, a familiar voice called from behind Echo.  He refused to turn around, as long as he didn’t see who was coming up behind him, who clearly belonged to you and the children, a childish part of himself told him that it wouldn’t be true. But your words confirmed his fear.  “Rex, it’s fine”, you laughed. “Luke’s safe, he was only ahead of you by like a meter.”  Echo now looked at his brother. He looked a bit older than the last time he saw him, probably due to their rapid aging, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed at all, still caring and commanding and loving. Echo closed his eyes for a moment, he couldn’t bear to look at you and Rex and your children, because from the way the four of you interacted he could tell that you belonged together.  Of course he had known that you would move on, though a small irrational part of him had hoped that you might wait for him to come back to you someday. But why did you have to move on with his brother? And not just any brother, one he had always been close to. And how could Rex do this, he knew more than anyone, other than Fives at least, how much Echo had always loved you.  Of course Echo knew that he should be happy for you, and part of him was, but seeing you and your family, seeing your happy smiles and the love in your eyes, just killed him.  “Echo, vod, it’s so good to see you. How have you been?”, Rex asked as he put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and squeezed affectionately.  Before Echo could answer you interrupted him with an apologetic smile. “Rex, we have to meet Padmé in 10 minutes, we better hurry. But Echo, how about you come by our apartment around 7 this evening and we’ll catch up?” 

-------

Echo had debated whether to actually go and see you, but in the end he decided that he might regret it more if he backed out. Plus Hunter had basically pushed him out the door and left him no other choice.  So here he was, in front of your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the one you had lived in during the war.  His fist had barely touched the door when you already pulled it open and ushered Echo inside.  For a moment the two of you just stood in the hallway, looking at each other and not saying anything.  “Rex just went to buy a bottle of wine, he should be back shortly”, you said as you lead Echo further into the apartment.  He soon found himself in a larger room, which served as both living room and dining room, with the kitchen attached and only separated by a kitchen island. As he looked around he recognized most of the furniture from your old apartment, the one he had spent countless hours in, as well as photographs both old and new with many familiar faces in them. A couple were just you and Rex, but most of them had General Skywalker, Commander Tano, General Kenobi or Senator Amidala in them, along with many of his brothers. He also spotted his favourite picture, the one had had carried a copy of wherever he went, of him kissing your cheek while Fives enveloped the two of you in a hug. He was surprised to see it hanging in your living room. But what surprised him even more was how clean everything was. You had always been a tidy person, but he had suspected that children would still leave the place a bit messy. Speaking of...  “Are Luke and Leia going to join us?”, he asked.  A surprised look crossed your face before you shook your head.  “They’re with Padmé and Anakin.”  Echo nodded. Maybe it was for the best not to have the children around, the dinner would be awkward and they might only make it worse.  “How nice of the General and Senator Amidala to babysit.”  You stopped pouring water in your glass and looked at Echo in surprise.  “They’re not babysitting, the twins are their kids. Rex and I were the ones who were babysitting this morning.”  It was safe to say that Echo had not been expecting this revelation. He had been so sure that you and Rex were the parents. But his little moment of relief was cut short when he realized that this didn’t change anything. You and Rex were still a couple, you still lived together and had a life together, a life Echo had no place in.  “Are you planning on having kids then?” The question was out before Echo could stop himself. This was none of his business, it might even be better if he didn’t know. But he just had to know, having children was the one thing about your future the two of you had never talked about, had never dared to even think about in the middle of a war, but that hadn’t stopped Echo from hoping to one day raise a family with you, and he had to know if his brother was now living that unspoken dream.  “I’m not opposed to the idea, but who would I have a child with? I’m not really fond of the idea of doing this on my own”, you admitted with a nervous laugh.  Echo tore his eyes away from the plate he had been fixating on to look at you. Try as he might, he couldn’t read your expression.  “With Rex, of course. He’s your”, he started before stopping for a moment to scan your fingers for a ring, when he didn’t find one he continued. “Boyfriend. Rex is your boyfriend.”  Saying the words out loud hurt, more than Echo would ever want to admit, but it was your laughter that actually broke his hear, and your words that mended it again.  “Rex is not my boyfriend, he’s my friend. Probably my best friend and maybe more like a brother, but most certainly not my boyfriend.”  After everything he had been through there wasn’t much that could render Echo speechless, but this confession could. It took him a moment, and a thorough scan of your serious expression, for him to formulate his next sentence.  “But the two of you live together”, he finally said.  For a moment you didn’t say anything. Then you took his hand, your skin still as soft and warm as he remembered, and led him over to your couch. Softly you pulled on his arm to get him to sit next to you, closer than he would have sat while still thinking that you were in love with his brother, but not as close as he really wanted.  “Rex and I are friends, nothing more. We live together because no matter how much some politicians try, clones still have little rights and it was easier for him to move in with me than to get his own place. But Echo, I never, ever, though about Rex in any romantic way, nor he about me. I... There has only ever been one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, one person I wanted to marry and have children with and grown old with, and that person is you. Echo, it’s always been you and it always will be. I loved you ever since you carried Fives into the medbay with his broken leg and I never stopped, not when I though you were dead, not when you went away with the Bad Batch. And seeing you again only showed me how much I missed you, how much I don’t want to let you go again. But of course I understand that you’ve probably moved on.”  There were a million things Echo might have said, but for now he decided to forgo any explanations. Instead he put one of his hands on your waist and the other behind your head. Slowly he leaned closer, giving you every chance to pull way, but instead you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his in a gentle kiss.  “I love you. Always have, always will”, he whispered against your lips before you reconnected in another kiss.  The two of you were so busy with kisses and declarations of love that you didn’t notice the door opening and closing and Rex telling you that he’d spend the night at Cody’s to give the two of you a bit of privacy.  But you didn’t notice and you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you were together again, you still loved each other and the galaxy was at peace, giving you time to rebuild your relationship and relishing in your love. 

-------

This is short and unoriginal and corny, but after today’s episode I just had to write something about Echo and the idea of him misunderstanding your relationship with one of his brothers just popped into my head, and due to Echo’s obvious love for and trust in Rex in this episode it just had to be him 

#echo x reader #echo imagine #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo x reader #arc trooper echo imagine #echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #tbb echo x reader #tbb echo imagine

[tennessoui]

when is anakin going to get his revenge and kiss divorced obi-wan back

yes hello this got out of hand and the best moment would be in the hypothetical part two but here is a KUWSK directly post kiss from Anakin's pov. For context, this snippet and this snippet probablllyyyy should be read?

(2.8k, ffs @ kit)

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself after he drops the kids off at school and starts making the drive back home. His hands are tight on the wheel. He’s been trying to think about something else--anything else ever since it happened, but his mind refuses to let go of that moment.

He’s replayed it so many times in the last hour and a half that it doesn’t even feel like an actual memory anymore, just a combination of sensations.

The chill of the almost winter morning that made the hair on his arms stick up. The tacky feeling in his mouth because he had slept a bit later than he had wanted to and didn’t have time to brush his teeth if he wanted to make breakfast before the kids and Obi-Wan left.

The woodsy-spiced smell of Obi-Wan’s cologne, stronger than normal. They’d been standing closer together than normal too, but it had been so early and Obi-Wan’s mind had obviously been miles away.

Anakin had been saying something stupid, something that didn’t mean anything, and Obi-Wan had replied and then Obi-Wan had leaned in and kissed him, full on the mouth. His beard had felt so soft against Anakin’s skin, his lips even softer, if a bit chapped.

Had they been chapped? Now Anakin can’t remember, he’s turned this memory over in his head so often. It had been for less than a handful of seconds. A quick brush of lips, a taste of a life Anakin has dreamt about for well over a year now. And Obi-Wan had just turned and left, as if he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. As if he hadn’t just kissed Anakin on the porch for everyone to see.

Obi-Wan would never be that cruel on purpose. Perhaps to that one profesor who always tries to refute Obi-Wan’s papers, but not to Anakin.

Which means Obi-Wan hadn’t been thinking. He had been perhaps caught up in the domesticity of it all, of having someone wish him luck and see him off. And maybe Anakin has been doing something like that for the last two years, but there’s a person who did that for Obi-Wan for much longer. A person they ran into at the park just two days ago.

“He was thinking about Satine,” Anakin tells himself as he gets out of the car and unlocks the house. He tries desperately to keep the despair and jealousy out of his voice, but at least no one’s around. It’s not that he hates the woman or anything. Really, he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand her, but that’s a given.

He’d never have Obi-Wan’s heart and soul and throw it away. He’d never get tired of fighting with Obi-Wan if he was fighting to stay with the man. He’d never be able to run into him at a park and then just leave again as if seeing him stirred up nothing inside of him.

Seeing Obi-Wan always stirs things up inside of Anakin. It makes no sense that Satine, who had had Obi-Wan’s love--knew all those things about the man that Anakin did not and could not know as just his housemate--had just been satisfied with saying hello and then just as quickly goodbye.

The same cold sinking feeling that Anakin’s been trying to shake off for the last two and a half days returns, and he has to lean against the countertop in the kitchen for a second to ground himself.

They’re going to get back together. They will.

At the park, they had seemed so in their own world, as if everything else had disappeared except for them. Anakin had had to send Luke over, couldn’t stand watching that reconnection happen without at least trying to remind Obi-Wan that he has a family now, that he’s not alone anymore, that there are people who love him.

Obi-Wan had glared at him for his meddling, which hadn’t admittedly done wonders to his confidence. And when Obi-Wan had deposited Luke--Luke--on the ground to chase after Satine, when he had hugged her, Anakin knew for sure.

They were going to lose him.

Anakin had had his set of chances and had taken none of them, and now Obi-Wan’s going to re-fall in love with his ex-wife and Anakin’s going to have to be the supportive best friend who has to figure out how to tell his children that due to unforeseen and tragic circumstances, their Obi is probably going to elope to Paris and maybe send a postcard once or twice a year addressed solely to the children and Anakin will grow old and die alone and the name Obi-Wan Kenobi will be banned from his small, shadowy apartment, and all Anakin will have is a few memories of the two most important and heart wrenching kisses he’s ever been a part of in his entire life.

“He was thinking about Satine,” he tells himself. “He kissed me but it wasn’t about me. It hasn’t ever been about me.”

There’s no denying that Obi-Wan loves Anakin’s children and also no denying that his children love Obi-Wan. Anakin thinks he wouldn’t love Obi-Wan half as much if he hadn’t absolutely been charmed by the kids and vice versa. But he had been. They had been. Those few weeks when Anakin had thought about leaving a year ago had been absolutely awful because he knew he would be breaking his twins’ hearts, not just his. He’d be hurting Obi-Wan too, he had known that.

But he had had to try. Because he knew that if he didn’t try to leave then he’d have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of Obi-Wan’s life when it came time for the man to grow tired of his presence.

It had been a last ditch attempt at saving his dignity. And it hadn’t taken much argument from everyone else to get him to abandon the idea completely.

Now he can’t help but to think he should have put his foot down, gotten some distance. Because now he’s entrenched in Obi-Wan’s world, the same way Obi-Wan is entrenched in his and the twins’ world. Leaving now will feel like ripping himself in two. He’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night five years from now and wonder about the academic response to Obi-Wan’s most recent publication.

He’ll probably have read it. He’ll probably still be fielding questions from his kids’ friends’ parents about whatever happened to that handsome man that used to come in to help during Show-And-Tell Day? Do you remember who I’m talking about, Anakin?

If he had left then, the idea of leaving now wouldn’t hurt so much. But there’s a ticking clock in his head.

Obi-Wan kissed him.

But he was thinking about Satine.

He calls Padme, because that’s sort of what he does when he doesn’t know what to do. She’s never turned him away--with the rejected marriage proposal being the one glaring exception, of course.

Thankfully, she doesn’t start now, though she does sound a little stressed when she picks up.

“Hey,” he says trying to sound normal and as if he isn’t a few minutes alone with his thoughts away from crying like a baby.

“Ani?”

“Are you--are you busy? Something sort of happened.”

“My flight is boarding,” Padme admits, but there’s a rustle on the other end of the line like she’s just sat down. “But it’s not like I’m not assigned a seat. They won’t leave without me. What happened?”

Anakin smiles in spite of himself. She’s really just such an angel of a person.

“Are the children alright?” she asks, sounding worried the longer it takes for Anakin to respond. “Ani?”

“No, yeah, the children are fine. I dropped them off at school this morning. But. Um.” He takes a deep breath. “Obi-Wankissedme.”

“I’m sorry?” Padme asks.

“Obi-Wan kissed me.”

The other end of the line is silent. “And we’re calling this a problem now?” she asks faintly. “Is he a bad kisser?”

“He’s a great kisser,” Anakin defends, shifting awkwardly on his feet, catching sight of the fridge door and quickly turning away.

“Then I don’t…?” Padme trails off uncertainly. Anakin can understand this confusion. Padme has only had to hear about how much Anakin wants Obi-Wan to kiss him for about two years now.

“I don’t think he realized he did it,” Anakin confesses. “He just did it as he was leaving. Because I said goodbye. It--I don’t think he realized who he was kissing.”

Now Padme sounds a distinct mix of skeptical and sympathetic, a tone Anakin’s only ever heard her use with him. “What makes you say that?”

“Because--because we went to the park the other day and he ran into his ex-wife and they were together for, for years so--so obviously he just--he wasn’t--it wasn’t me he was kissing. He was thinking about Satine.”

The words sound dull and practiced and lifeless.

“Oh, Anakin,” Padme says.

“And they’re probably gonna get back together, and we’re going to have to leave, and he’ll never know that I--” Anakin cuts himself off and thunks his head on the countertop with a groan.

Padme hums disbelievingly. “Anakin, I know you’ve never believed me when I say this, but that man is gone over you. And I think if he kissed you long enough for you to tell me for certain that he’s a good kisser, then he definitely knew he was kissing you.”

Anakin bites his lip and debates the pros and cons of being completely truthful. But he had called Padme for help, and she can’t provide the best advice if she doesn’t know the full story.

“That’s not the first time he’s kissed me,” Anakin finally admits, rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck.

“What?” Padme exclaims, probably much louder than appropriate for a public space. “Anakin Skywalker, explain yourself right now.”

He exhales forcefully. “Last New Year’s Eve party.”

“That was almost a year ago! And nothing else ever happened between you two? What? We always thought that once the first kiss was out of the way we’d need to beat you both with sticks to keep you off each other.”

“Well--wait, who’s we?”

Padme tsks. “Myself and Obi-Wan’s coworker.”

“You’ve been gossiping about me?” Anakin asks, torn between being flabbergasted and offended.

“That’s not important right now,” Padme says airily. “What’s important here is the fact that you apparently kissed Obi-Wan Kenobi and never told me?”

“He doesn’t remember, okay?” Anakin snaps. “He. We’d been drinking. A lot. It was after everyone left. And. I was in the kitchen and he was in the kitchen and he--”

--had pinned him to the front of the fridge and just looked at Anakin for a few seconds like he was the most precious, important thing in the entire world, and Anakin had opened his mouth to say something and Obi-Wan had--

“--kissed me,” Anakin says out loud. “And then he--”

He had pressed impossibly closer to Anakin, one hand wrapped around his hip, caressing the thin skin there while his other hand ghosted down Anakin’s hair and back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch, as his tongue mapped out Anakin’s mouth for what could have been seconds or minutes, and Anakin could have stayed there forever, but his own hands had grabbed too tightly onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, must have jerked him forward too roughly, because he had been pushed away and--

“--threw up in the kitchen sink,” he finishes.

There’s dead silence on the other end of the line before Padme bursts out laughing. “Okay, okay,” she says once she’s calmed down. “But how do you know for sure he forgot about that? Sounds like something he might just never want to talk about if it ended up with him vomiting in the kitchen.”

“I just know,” Anakin promises. And he does. Obi-Wan had no idea about that kiss. It was a secret Anakin thought about too often, but one he had kept to himself for nearly a year, too afraid to reveal it to Obi-Wan only for the man to say he hadn’t meant to, it hadn’t meant anything, he’d been much too drunk.

Even the idea of Obi-Wan apologizing for one of the hottest kisses Anakin’s ever experienced in his life has been enough to keep Anakin silent on the matter.

But now he’s been kissed again, this time by a sober Obi-Wan, and it still--it still doesn’t mean anything.

“It didn’t mean anything to him then, or he would have remembered,” Anakin tells Padme. “And this one doesn’t mean anything either. The timing is just...it can’t be a coincidence, Padme. He’s never once thought about kissing me, about...about coming home to me like that, and now, a few days after he runs into his ex-wife he’s suddenly planting one on me as he walks out the door? I know--I know you think he...he might...he might have liked me, or...or wanted me, but. There’s no way I can hold a candle to a decades long marriage. I just. I can’t compete with that. He doesn’t want me to.”

Padme’s Anakin is cut off on her end by what sounds like a flight attendant. “Yes, I’m coming,” Padme tells the person, and there’s shuffling and then the distinct sound of the harsh beep of the ticket scanner, before Padme’s heels are clicking on the flight tunnel. “Do not rush me,” Padme tells someone. “What are you going to do, close this thing while I’m in it?”

Anakin has to hide his only sort of watery smile in his hand as he listens quietly on his end.

“Anakin?” Padme asks, and she must be on the plane because there’s a buzz of other people’s noises around her. “Anakin, I know you won’t believe me, and maybe--maybe you’re right and they’ll get back together, maybe you’re going to lose him.” Anakin’s heart hurts quite painfully at these words. “But do you remember what you did the first time you proposed to me and I said no?”

Great, yeah. Just bring up all his biggest failures in love. Sure, why start with Padme? When Anakin had been five he had tried to kiss a boy and been shoved into the mud for his efforts. That’s a fine place to begin, really. Just drag up all the old hurts. He sighs. “I went and got you a bigger ring.”

“And do you remember what you did when I told you that I couldn’t raise the children, but my parents wanted to?”

“I threatened to take them to court if they didn’t let me have them,” Anakin says. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, of course, but Padme’s parents had never really liked him. They still don’t.

Someone’s trying to talk to Padme on the other end of the line. “Yes, fine,” she snaps. “Anakin. Anakin, what I’m trying to say is I’ve never seen you give up on anything without at least trying to fight for it. And I don’t know why this should be different. You won’t be able to live with yourself if you have to watch him get back together with his ex-wife and know you never even tried to tell him he had other options.”

Anakin opens and closes his mouth, speechless. “Then what--”

“So go,” Padme cuts him off. “Go tell him he has other options! For fuck’s sake, yes, alright I’m getting off the phone. Anakin, when I land I expect to have a very detailed account of events waiting for me on my email. Goodbye.”

She hangs up. Anakin stares at the phone in his hand for a handful of seconds, thinking over what she’s said. What she’s implied.

She’s right, of course. Anakin never gives in this easily. He doesn’t fully understand why he’s so ready to capitulate now. Maybe he knows full-well he can’t compete with whatever Obi-Wan had with his ex-wife. They have history. They grew up together, became adults together. Anakin’s just this weird twenty-eight year old man with a pair of kids too old for his age who crashed at Obi-Wan’s house during the lowest moment of his life. Of maybe both of their lives.

Love can’t bloom from that. Not really. Not...not the sort of love that turns into a lifelong marriage.

But. Padme’s right. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he doesn’t try. If he doesn’t know for sure.

So either he could putter around the house all day waiting for Obi-Wan to text or call or come home, talking himself into and out of confessing every emotion he’s harbored for the man for the past two years, or….or he could drive to his campus and confront him in his office, put himself on the execution block and hand Obi-Wan the axe. At least it would be a quick death.

He glances at the digital clock on the oven. 9:38. The idea of waiting ten hours for a resolution makes his skin crawl.

And besides. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t packed a lunch.

#this is unread through #because i have housework i have put off in order to type this #i think we all know where this is going though #anakins gonna Do Something Ill-Advised #asks #KUWSK #poor anakin :'( #i imagine obi-wan was probably very pensive for the rest of the day after the park #and anakins just panicking and thinking that he's thinking about his ex wife #and obi-wan kind of is but he's mostly thinking about his new family #and he's thinking a lot about anakin #if only they c o m m u n i c a t e d

[sonoftatooine]

Whumptober 2021

DAY 4: ‘TRUST FALL’ - TAKEN HOSTAGE

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Wilhuff Tarkin, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Bail Organa (mentioned), Obi-Wan Kenobi (mentioned)

Summary: Rebel AU - Instead of falling to the Dark Side, Anakin resists Palpatine’s manipulations, but not without consequences. With Padmé dead, he flees Coruscant, raising their two children in the fledgling Rebel Alliance. However, Palpatine has not forgotten about them. Several years later, Anakin is presented with an ultimatum - give himself up to the Empire or he’ll never see Luke and Leia again.

***

"Anakin Skywalker."

The voice of Moff Wilhuff Tarkin crackled with static as it was played through the holoprojector Anakin had cradled in his hand, his glitching image another flicker of light against the deep blue of hyperspace beyond the viewport of the ship that he had...borrowed without permission from the hangar of the new rebel base that they had set up less than a week past. By now, the message was as familiar to him as those blue lights outside; he had played and replayed it so many times. Every inflection of that smug voice, every minute change in expression on that gaunt face. But no matter the pain it caused him, he couldn't stop himself from watching it over and over, as if this time it would be...it would be—

He didn't know what it would be.

"The Emperor demands your presence," Tarkin continued. Anakin had to fight the urge to clench his durasteel hand into a fist, to crush the holoprojector into dust, as he had once on Kiros when confronted with the presence of the Zygerrian slaver on the planet. "For too long, you have evaded capture. I'm afraid that ends today."

The image jumped and stuttered as two small figures were pulled into the frame. A sob caught in Anakin's throat. Luke and Leia, their small wrists trapped in Force suppressing cuffs. Luke's eyes were full of tears, Leia's full of fury. But no matter how fierce her glare, he could tell she was terrified. They were both terrified.

"You have three standard days to come to the Mustafar system," Tarkin said, thin lips twisting into a small, cruelly satisfied smile. "Alone, unarmed. If you wish your children to remain unharmed, you will comply. Fail to do so in any regard, and you shall never see them again."

Beside him, the tears in Luke's eyes began to spill out onto his round cheeks as he frantically shook his head. Some of Leia's fear began to melt through her mask of anger, dark eyes widening in alarm as she opened her mouth to scream.

"No, Daddy, no! Don't—"

A snarl from Tarkin and the recording cut off. With a sharp clatter, the holoprojector fell to the floor as Anakin bent over with a wounded cry, burying his face in his hands.

It was his fault. All his fault. When their last base was attacked, his thoughts had only been to get them out, get them away to safety. Bail had had them go with Antilles to the rendezvous point, but Anakin had chosen to stay, to fight, to hold back the troopers long enough to allow them to escape. But in the end, it had done nothing to protect them. Luke and Leia had never arrived there. Antilles had been killed, and his children had been taken. Taken because he hadn't been there to protect them. Because he always made the wrong choice, failed the people he loved most. His mother, Padmé, and now...

And now, Luke and Leia—his precious children that he couldn't lose, not like he had lost their mother—were in the hands of the Empire, and there was only one thing he could do to save them.

One thing which the rest of the Rebel Alliance had deemed unacceptable. Most of them had been sympathetic, of course. Bail had been very kind and understanding after they had received the transmission, even as he had rushed to put himself between Anakin and the door to stop his mad dash to the hangar, no thoughts in his head beyond the need to get to his children, couldn't let them get hurt no matter what the cost. "Anakin," he'd pleaded with him, large hands pressing down on his shoulders to hold him back, and for one horrible moment it had struck him that, despite his size, it would have been so easy to just...swat him aside—this man who dared stand between him and the only option he had of keeping his children safe— "Anakin, please. I know you want to protect Luke and Leia, but giving yourself up to the Empire isn't the answer. That won't help anyone, least of all them." Obi-Wan had tried too, but he hadn't been any help. "You are the Chosen One, Anakin," he'd said. "We cannot risk you falling into the hands of the Sith. We will get your children back, but you mustn't allow your fear for them to cloud your judgement."

Obi-Wan didn't understand. He was hardly about to forget that he was the karking Chosen One when it was the very reason Palpatine had targeted his children—the man who had befriended him and manipulated him for thirteen years in order to shackle his power to him, who had taken Luke and Leia for the same end. As if he could possibly have forgotten what it was he wanted from him, when the memories of it still haunted his nightmares. His cajoling in the blood red office in the Senate Dome morphing into snarling threats as the Jedi Temple burnt around them, and then Padmé—oh Padmé—her life force slipping through his fingers like sand and there was nothing he could do—

But none of that mattered. Not now. Not when it was his children's lives on the line. He wouldn't risk defying him this time. He couldn't.

They'd tried. They'd tried to find a way to free Luke and Leia without giving into the Empire's ultimatum. But what could they do? They had no idea where Tarkin was keeping them, and if he caught the slightest wind that Anakin had not come alone to Mustafar, Force knew what would happen. He couldn't risk that. Though he was no longer naive enough to expect Tarkin to simply let them go if he caved to the demands (he steadfastly ignored the small part of him that always felt that if he had taken up Palpatine's offer, if he hadn't angered him with his refusal, that he might have let—he might have let Padmé—), perhaps he could find a way to escape afterwards. He would find his children and then they would all get away. But he couldn't let Luke and Leia suffer because of him. Couldn't let them be killed or-or spirited away and twisted by the Sith into something terrible because their father had refused to act.

He wouldn't make the wrong choice this time.

He hoped that nobody back at the base had noticed he was missing yet. He had left well past dark, slipping past the people on the night watch and away with ease. As far as Obi-Wan and Bail and everyone else were concerned, he was holed up in his room, not sleeping, not eating, and torturing himself over and over with that kriffing recording. With luck that he wasn't strictly supposed to believe in, they wouldn't go trying to talk to him too soon. If they found out he was gone, if they figured out where he was going and decided to go after him, Tarkin could take that as an attempt to breach the terms of the Empire's ultimatum, and what would happen to Luke and Leia then?

He was brought sharply out of his spiralling thoughts as his ship's console beeped at him. Blinking, he raised his head from his hands. The ship was coming out of hyperspace. Oh Force. Oh Force. He felt sick, deep in his stomach. His hands shook. For a moment, overwhelming fear seized him. The fear he had felt in the Council Chambers of the Jedi Temple all those years ago as he stared into the vicious yellow eyes of a man he had thought was his friend. Fear of everything he could do to him, and worse, to everybody he cared about. He could barely breathe. But he couldn't let himself get trapped in that fear. He had to do this. He had to—

The blue lights dissipated as the ship reverted to realspace, revealing the fiery image of Mustafar on the other side of the viewport before him. Anakin's hands trembled violently as he grasped the ship's controls—so hard that they creaked alarmingly under his mechanical fingers. For Luke and Leia. For Luke and Leia. He could do it for Luke and Leia—

He angled the ship towards the planet, and started the descent down towards the surface.

When he had come here to save the Force sensitive children kidnapped by Cad Bane during the Clone War, he had decided that, if there was a planet in the Galaxy that rivalled Tatooine in awfulness, it was Mustafar. The roaring boom of constant eruptions reverberated as fiercely in the Force as it did in his ears as he manoeuvred the ship to land on the platform adjacent to a shielded facility similar to the one he remembered from the last time he had been to the planet. Reaching out with the his Force senses, he searched for Luke and Leia and found...nothing. He swallowed. He hadn't really expected them to be here—too much of a risk that he would simply kill Tarkin, take them and go. Instead, what he sensed were echoes of fear and death, and a familiar presence that he had hoped never to cross paths with again.

Tarkin was waiting for him.

"General Skywalker." After so many times watching the holorecording over and over again, it was odd hearing his that crisp, clipped voice without static or interference. Anakin levelled the man with the fiercest glower he could muster as he stepped out of the ship. "Good evening."

"Tarkin" Anakin snarled through gritted teeth. It was all he could force out without succumbing to the urge to lash out, to let the terrible power within him that the Emperor so coveted reach out and destroy his servant in the blink of an eye. He would deserve it. Would deserve it for taking his children, for daring to threaten them— But his children were the very reason he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk them. With a great effort, he bridled in his rage.

Tarkin smiled—that thin, pallid twist of the lips that he recognised from the twilight days of the Republic. The burning red light of the lava glinting in his steely eyes made him think of the first time they'd met. Lola Sayu. The Citadel mission. Ahsoka had saved his life then. Briefly, Anakin wondered if it would have been better for all of them if the man had died there and then.

"I knew that you would come." The Force sent a flare of warning through him, and he suddenly became aware of the clanking of plastisteel armour as, at a wordless order from the man in front of him, stormtroopers surrounded him, blasters pointed at his back. "The Emperor has predicted your every move."

Tarkin's tone was unbearably smug. Despite Anakin's silence, despite his rage, the smile never left the man's face. The shadows in the deep hollows of his cheeks and eyes made him look even more gaunt than usual. Like a grinning skull, here to taunt him with his fate.

"And now... Now, there is no escape. For you or your children.”

#whumptober2021 #no.4 #taken hostage #fandom #fic #star wars #star wars fic #star wars au #rebel anakin #rebel anakin au #anakin skywalker doesn't turn to the dark side #anakin skywalker #wilhuff tarkin #luke skywalker #leia organa #anakin & luke #anakin & leia #mine #my fic #sfw

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

Just like last week, spoilers for The Mandalorian season two

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

Cara leaned back in the pilot's seat, wearing that same smirk she always had. The one that said "I knew you'd do it". The one that said "Learn to have a little fun!" The one that said "Admit it, you're a pushover, Din Djarin."

"I can't believe you didn't think of this before!" Cara teased.

[[MORE]]

"The kid is training, and training is school, right? Kid needs school supplies. Styluses. Lunch box. Things like that."

Din looked over his shoulder at the small bundle on the floor behind him. "Maybe..." he murmured.

Cara frowned. "Hey, quit." There was no bite in her words. There never was when they talked about Grogu: she knew better than most that some subjects weren't to be taken lightly. "He's gonna want to see you. That kid adores you."

"He...he belongs with the Jedi," Din said, if only to convince himself not to snatch up his boy and never stop running. "Not the..."

He couldn't bring himself to say "Not the Mandalorians".

Cara adjusted the coordinates minutely, then swiveled sideways in her seat. She leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, and raised her eyebrows at the morose Mandalorian.

"So...there have never been any Mandalorian Jedi? Ever?"

The "no" was already on Din's lips before the weight of the Darksaber on his hip called it into question. Could such a thing exist? One who followed both the Creed of the Mandalorians and whatever Creed the Jedi lived by?

Could Grogu be one?

And was it selfish of him to hope the child might be?

They landed on Yavin IV with little difficulty. Din hadn't expected them to be that close by! It certainly made a difference to know that Grogu wouldn't be far from Mandalore after all.

They were directed by several New Republic officers to an upper level of what Cara said was an ancient temple, surrounded by jungle. It was warm and humid, but not unpleasantly so. The croaking of amphibian creatures in the trees made Din smile under his helmet.

"Hope none of those are poisonous," he remarked, gesturing toward the trees.

The man escorting them -- Din had seen his face on a bounty puck once, he was sure of it -- grimaced. "To most animals here, they are. To certain tridactyl toddlers though..."

Cara snorted. "How many did he eat?"

The man groaned. "Four. Five if you count the one he tried to give to my kid."

Han smirked despite himself when the Mandalorian behind him immediately said, "Urgh. I'm sorry, he does that. Is yours training here too?"

"Not training, no." Han led them towards an open courtyard like place. "We decided not to start that until he's five. Little bandit can't even sit up on his own yet. Luke just babysits when Leia and I both have to work."

"Hey Han! Over here!" The familiar voice of the Jedi echoed from a shady corner beside a tree.

Han. Han Solo! That's where Din had seen his face before! Well. Probably for the best that Boba was busy on Tatooine, then. Solo and friends had taken his fellow Mandalorian's honoring of his contract...rather personally. And Fett had the scars to prove it. For all that he thought the man would probably say something to the effect of "it was just business", Din still didn't think putting him in the same room as Han Kriffing Solo was a good idea.

Any further contemplation of men with prices on their heads crumbled into silence when Din heard a familiar squeal. He dropped to his knees on instinct, just in time to catch Grogu as he tripped on the hem of his little blue robe and fell headfirst into Din's hands.

"Grogu!" Din gasped around the lump in his throat.

"Buir!" Grogu laughed from upside down, though it really sounded more like "Bweeoo!"

Quickly, Din turned the toddler right side up and examined him for injuries. He didn't look hurt, but he did have a large smudge of dirt across his cheek, and dirty handprints all over his clothes. The mythosaur pendant had gotten a little tangled around the zipper on the front, and Din realized that Grogu's robe was just a human infant's sleep sack that someone had cut a hole for feet in.

Luke Skywalker sat on the grass with a three or four month old human baby in his lap. Din guessed that must have been Solo's child. Grogu was pointing at him and babbling incoherently. Din nodded seriously.

"Yes, yes he is a baby."

"Bee bee bee. Batu."

"No, not like the tadpole babies at all, you're right."

He had no idea if Grogu was actually talking about the tadpole child he'd bonded with, but he'd made similar sounds then, hadn't he?

"Grogu."

Grogu's head snapped back to face Din. His ears perked up, and his eyes shone. That threatened to undo Din there and then, but somehow he kept his composure.

"I brought you something to help you while you learn."

Immediately the toddler started looking around. "Buir? Buir?"

Cara held up the bundle Din had purchased from a Lurmen outfitters shop. A tiny red satchel, perfect for smaller species, hung from her fingertips. As soon as Grogu saw the yellow and brown frog pattern on the front pocket, he hooted with delight and reached for it.

"Hang on, short stuff," Cara laughed, "There's more!" She opened the bag and pulled out a pack of short, chunky, styluses in many colors. "Your dad thought you'd like coloring."

Luke laughed softly. "Oh he certainly seems to like his colors. Guess why we had to improvise new clothes?"

Gently bouncing his son in his arms, oblivious to Solo's bewildered look, Din asked the Jedi the question he almost didn't want the answer to.

"What...what happened to his romper?"

Luke winced. "Um."

Behind them, Han started laughing.

"Okay, so-" Luke ran a hand through his hair. "Part of being a Jedi is accepting when you make mistakes and learning from them. Case in point, Force strong toddlers and open jars of finger paint actually...aren't the great idea I'd thought they were..."

Almost completely inaudibly he added, "andalittlebitgotinhiseye,pleasedon'tbemad!"

Grogu flailed his arms up and then down with enthusiasm, trying to show his Buir exactly what he'd done with the paint.

"Yeah," the Manda'lor sighed, perfectly content, "That sounds like my kid."

#the mandalorion spoilers #the mandalorian #mandalorian season 2 #Mandalorian season 2 spoilers #mando spoilers #star wars wednesday #luke skywalker #din djarin #grogu djarin #baby yoda #writing prompts #fic prompts #the mandadlorian #cara dune #she's the fun auntie #han solo #the Yavin system is actually really close to Mandalore relatively speaking #that makes Bring Your Dad To School days much easier for Grogu if Luke trains students there like in the EU #i just need Din dropping Grogu off at Jedi Preschool with a little frog backpack

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 24: There's the Kicker

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: this chapter doesn't warrant warnings except brief mentions of violence!

SUMMARY: When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them.

And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum. Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian. As your heart hammers, drowning out every impulse to run towards him and jump into his arms, you have to remind yourself he left you, and even though he found you, he’s not yours anymore.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES SO SORRY THIS IS DAY LATE!! i had a lot of family and personal stuff come up on the back half of the week, and the chapter just wasn't where i wanted it to be last night. i hope this makes up for it! and i promise, the next chapter is going to be muchhhhh longer, and (in my opinion) very good ;) ENJOY!!

*

Getting back to Hoth feels like trying to run up a staircase that doesn’t fully exist.

Your starfighter, the one you put together with your aching hands and a little bit of wishful thinking, is rebelling against you. It’s fitting, you think, trying to hit warp for the thousandth time, that in the Crest’s unceremonious, splintered death, it left behind a new ship for you can wrangle in its wake. Immediately, you feel awful, swearing and kicking the parts of your hand-me-down Rebel ship into shape, reminding yourself that your home—the physical part of it, at least—is gone, and it makes you want to break down in the middle of space, get lost in the stars and not think about anything in this forsaken galaxy ever again.

But every time you close your eyes, you see the lightsaber glow green, and you know somewhere deep in your chest that Wedge called you back for a reason. It’s colossal and monumental in the same thundering way finding Din and the baby for the first time was, as illuminated and fated as meeting Ahsoka. There’s something here, something real, something more, if General Luke Skywalker himself sent Wedge a hologram and shook your old friend up this badly.

Finally, you get the ship to move. You kick the malfunctioning warp system a few times before she shudders to life and groans under your pressure. “Kicker,” you mutter, flipping all the colorful, variant buttons on the dashboard to get her to move. “Kicker, that’s what I’m gonna call you. I’d name you Rebel,” you continue, punching the ship into hyperspace, “but that one might be a little too on the nose. What do you think?”

Because it’s a ship, Kicker doesn’t say anything. You smile though, a small, stolen one, and as you exit the crush of warp in front of the icy behemoth that is Hoth, you feel your heart aerating and releasing, nervousness building a colony of butterflies up in your stomach. Luke Skywalker, you whisper a few times, turning his name over in your mouth. You know he’s real. You’ve seen him before, only from a distance, but you’ve heard the concrete stories, the way he turned from desert farm boy into the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. He’s the kind of man that can turn into myth with the right storyteller, and he’s always awed you. There’s a part of you that connects to him—something yearning and desperate, that part of the tales you always heard where he keeps trying to save people beyond saving.

Wedge knows him. Knew him, maybe, with the mystique surrounding the Jedi that Luke became, but you’ve seen the way Wedge talks about him, how the double suns of Tatooine shine in his eyes, his enthusiasm, his kindness. And you know they haven’t seen each other in ages, because Wedge has been from one end of the galaxy to the next, and Luke—you aren’t on a first name basis, he’ll always be General Skywalker, but there’s something about the way he appeared in your vision that makes you feel closer to him—well, Luke’s been becoming a Jedi.

And after perceiving said Jedi on the seeing stone immediately after your premonitions of Grogu getting whisked away by something evil? It feels like too close of a coincidence. And you don’t believe in coincidences to begin with.

The descent to Hoth feels even colder and slower when you’re shivering in anticipation before you even break through the planet’s atmosphere. You’re in your jumpsuit, and one of the spare blankets from your makeshift bed in the back of the cockpit is draped over your legs, but you’re still freezing. It feels like forever until you’re finally docked and you can sprint towards the control room where Wedge told you he would be, boots stomping heavy and intentional against the frozen ground.

“W—” you wheeze, immediately skidding to a halt the second that you breach the doorframe, all the breath leaving your lungs, “what did he say?”

The room, you realize, a second too late, is full. There’s seven people splayed around the hologram, and they’re all staring at you. You recognize all of their faces, both from seeing them around here on base, and from your youth when you were still a fully integrated member of the Alliance, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you pull your helmet off, trying to walk over to where Wedge is standing with as much grace as you can muster.

“It seems like some of the message is corrupted,” Wedge manages, lowly, pulling you gently out of the way of the other people talking urgently over the holotable. “He said something about a new Jedi, though, and that he’s heading back to find them—”

“Me?” you blurt.

Wedge startles. “What?”

You bite your lip, grabbing his arm and dragging him a bit further away, hoping to avoid the other generals’ earshot. “I—I was on Tython,” you breathed, “just now. And before my fiancé and our kid abandoned—left me on Dantooine, we were on Corvus. Where we met with a Jedi—I think. I don’t know if she identifies as one anymore. Her lightsabers were white.”

Wedge blinks at you. “What?” he repeats, and you steal a nervous look at the others gathered around the hologram. Some of them are examining the table itself, others are watching you, and you feel both incredibly small and incredibly judged. “You’re not making sense, rebel girl. What about you?”

You inhale. It’s shaky, but it’s a start. You’re still out of breath. “I—I’m Force sensitive,” you whisper, as quietly as you can, “that’s why I was left on Dantooine. The baby—Grogu, our son—he’s also Force sensitive, and Moff Gideon was after the both of us. It was safer if we split up. Can,” you interrupt yourself, still out of breath, “can you play me the message? I think that Luke—General Skywalker—might have been talking about me.”

Wedge stares at you. After a second, he takes a half step back, but the look on his face, disbelief, is so close to Din’s of confusion and betrayal after you showed him the same piece of information about yourself. You swallow, suddenly self-conscious, pulling your braid over your shoulder.

“How long have you known?” Wedge whispers, voice urgent. “About your abilities?”

You shake your head. “Not long,” you promise, “two months at most. Listen—”

“Why did you say yes to me?” Wedge interrupts. “Why did you come here? We’re barely anything, right now, Nova, the Alliance is completely scattered after the fall of the Empire. There’s not enough of us to protect you.”

You blink, anger slowly filling up the expression on your face. “I can protect myself,” you hiss back, “and, besides, I’m not—I’m not dangerous, Wedge, and I can take care of myself. Besides,” you say, trying not to choke, “I think Gideon has the baby right now, b—because our ship was shot to shit—”

Wedge faces you again, putting both of his broad hands on your shoulder. Immediately, you close your mouth, suddenly anxious. You don’t know what he wants from you, and you don’t know if you should have told him about everything. But if he was friends—close friends—with Luke Skywalker, he shouldn’t be this uncertain about your Force sensitivity. You bite your lip, unsure how to react, but you can feel the anger and desperation slowly building back up in your chest, billowing like an old, ancient flame.

“Moff Gideon,” Wedge says, voice low, “is after your fiancé and your kid?”

Troubled, eyes furrow, you nod. “Yes.”

“And when you just left the base earlier today,” Wedge continues, his voice intense but slightly strained, “where did you go?”

“I—” You inhale, sharply, breaking his intent gaze to look over at the rest of the people in the room. Almost every single one of them is outfitted in the regalia reserved for admirals and generals, and the ones who aren’t are pilots. You know the uniform. You’re practically wearing it yourself. They’re all looking at you with a strangeness to them, eyes flickering back and forth between you and Wedge, as if asking for permission. “When we met Ahsoka Tano on Corvus,” you continue, trying to direct your conversation to both Wedge and the others in the room, “she told us—me and Grogu, my kid—that she couldn’t train us, because we had emotional attachments to one another. But she told us to go to the planet Tython,” you pause to swallow, mouth dry, “because it has a strong connection with the Force, and we could connect with a Jedi who could.” You stop, looking back at Wedge. “I heard him,” you whisper, “and I saw him. His lightsaber, lighting up the hallway of an Imperial cruiser. I know that Gideon was after my family.” You pause again, inhaling a shivering breath. “When I was just on Tython, I saw our ship. It was just rubble.” You’re trying so hard not to cry, but you can’t help yourself. “I’ve had visions, Force visions, for months now, of the planet. Gideon and his troops were after the baby, and I know Tython is where they took him.”

Wedge’s hand is up against his chin. He exchanges a quick, unreadable look at one of the generals, and then he faces back to you. “How many men does Gideon have?”

You look around at the people in the room again, and decidedly take a step forward, towards the table, towards the paused, flickering, blue hologram of Luke Skywalker pulsating up from the table. “A lot,” you admit, hand flying to your necklace before you startle with the realization that it’s not there, that you gave it to Grogu right before you were deserted out on Dantooine. “I know the galaxy is still in reparations from the fallen Empire.” You swallow, trying to meet the eyes of the rest of the people in the room. “But I don’t think the Empire is as fallen as we previously thought.”

Wedge moves in behind you, and a space opens up around the table. You smile, grateful, falling into rank with the other eight people in the room. “That’s what we’ve been afraid of,” he affirms, bumping his shoulder gently into yours, the same thing your dad always did when he wanted to include you. You let your stature relax, leaning in to examine the pulsing of the hologram on the table. “After we defeated the Empire, most people left the Alliance. It seemed like the natural thing to do when there wasn’t active, visible evil to fight off anymore. People wanted to get on with their lives.” He inhales, deeply. You can see worry lines chiseled into places they weren’t before, the last time you saw him. “Luke, though.” He stares at the rotating disillusion of his friend as he exhales, “Luke knew it wasn’t over. He’s been all over the place,” Wedge says, and this part sounds like it’s just for you, “trying to find people who can use the Force like he can, and like you can too. Trying to rebuild the Jedi Order.”

You swallow, looking up at him. “What does the hologram say?” Your voice comes out shaky and small.

Wedge sighs, pressing the button to play the message.

“Wedge,” Luke says, voice tinny but full of relief. “It’s been a long time, and I know you’re busy, but I need your help.” You watch, transfixed, at the blue, flickering image of the greatest Jedi in the galaxy. You swallow. “I think I’ve found someone. Maybe two people, I can’t be sure. I felt it through the Force.” He pauses again, giving Wedge a look that feels private, intimate, like something only for him to see. You avert your eyes. “I’m headed to the planet Tython. Then—then I’d like your help, and the Alliance’s, to help safeguard whoever I find.” You look at Wedge. “I know it isn’t fair to ask. I know I’ve been distant for a long time. But I need you to know that the galaxy is still in danger. I feel it, Wedge, and I know you can too. I’ll see you soon.” And with that, the holotable flicks off, the rotating, grainy, blue image of Luke Skywalker himself turned to dust.

“He found you,” Wedge says, but it sounds more like a question.

“No,” you whisper, voice small. “No—I saw him, but it was a premonition. I didn’t call out to him.” Your eyelids flutter, because you’re trying to hold back tears. “Grogu,” you say, voice even smaller than it was before. “Gideon has Grogu.”

Wedge exchanges looks with the others in the room, then looks back at you. You’re exhausted, and you rub your hands over your tired eyes, pressing until you see stars. “So Luke is going after Moff Gideon?”

“Yes.”

“So we need to help him.”

You spin around, back to Wedge and the generals. “No,” you enunciate, trying to stress just how bad that idea is with a single syllable. Then your words come flooding back. “No. We—you, any of you—cannot go after Gideon. I know you want to, and I know you’ve taken down plenty of the Empire, so I know you’re capable, but you can’t.” You look back at Wedge. “You can’t,” you whisper again. “I’ve seen him. He’s flattened entire cities in his destroyers, and he’s ruthless. He’s power-hungry, and anyone or anything that stands in the way of that is something that will soon be dead. I held him off once,” you say, projecting this part to the rest of the room, “once, and I barely got out of there in time, and it drained me for days. I still feel that exhaustion here. You can’t help Luke with this. Protecting me, and whoever the other Jedi are—that’s what you need to do. I know this is horrible. I know you probably feel helpless.” You swallow, fingers grasping around open air around your throat where your necklace used to be. “But you can’t take on Gideon. Not alone. And not even with all of you. I’ve seen how that story ends. It cost me my family.”

Wedge stares at you. “So you’re suggesting we do nothing? To help Luke Skywalker? To get your kids and fiancé back?”

The question burns. You meet his gaze. “No,” you answer, finally, “I’m suggesting we strategize before we attack.”

There’s rumblings from the generals in the background, but Wedge holds up a hand, and the low voices cease. You swallow, trying to push your shoulders back, give off confidence, but you’re not sure if it’s working. Wedge nods at you, and you feel relief spread through your whole body as he turns back to the generals. “Nova’s right,” he says. “There’s not enough of us left to adequately fight off Gideon and the troops he has.”

“He has a weapon, an awful one,” you say, stepping forward. “It’s called the Darksaber.”

No one seems to blink an eye at that one, but Wedge looks at you. “Is Gideon Force sensitive, too?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“No,” you answer, softly, “but this weapon isn’t like a lightsaber. It’s cruel, and ruthless, and its blade is black, vibrating with a ring of white around it. He can use it, and he has, and he’ll continue to until he’s been stopped—”

Suddenly, all the lights start blinking, sirens blaring. You jump back in panic as everyone immediately mobilizes, starts pulling weapons out of hidden places, running out of the room. Wedge beckons for you to follow him, so you do, and your legs scream with the soreness of trying to climb to the top of the seeing stone back on Tython.

“What’s happening?” you yell, following Wedge into another control room.

“We’re under attack,” he answers, grimly, his face paling. “You need to go.”

You blink, coming to an abrupt halt. “What?”

“It’s Gideon’s men,” Wedge says, turning around to face you. “It’s not Gideon himself. But he’s sent in three fighters, and they’re big ones. I assume they’re after you?” he asks, and your stomach twists. Wedge starts striding towards the hangar, and you follow him, immediately getting blasted in the face with Hoth’s frozen air.

“It’s three fighters,” you say, urgently, “I’ve taken out six of them before, Wedge, singlehandedly, let me get in the air and I can shoot them down—”

“No,” he interrupts, “we’ve got it. I promise. You have to go. There will be a decoy ship alongside you, one that looks enough like yours so they’ll follow it. Only when that ship is clear do you leave the atmosphere, and then you immediately jump into hyperspace.”

You’re frozen.

“Do you understand?” Wedge asks, and you exhale, letting go of all the seizing stress in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes,” you answer, and he nods. You’re at Kicker, so you grab the parka out of Wedge’s outstretched hand, starting to climb.

“Rebel girl,” he calls, and you go back a step to catch his face. There’s so much there. You can feel it the same way you see how worn his worry lines were when you were reunited back on Dantooine. It’s longing, loss, and, somewhere hidden, hope. You see the way he’s trying to convey everything—condolences for your parents, plans to get Din and the baby back to you, whatever was going on between him and Luke—but he can’t vocalize it. You nod at him, smiling softly. “Fly safe,” Wedge says finally, “and let me know where you land. No matter what,” he tacks on, at the last minute, and you see for a split second how concerned he is, “do not turn around. Do you understand me?”

You want to defy him. You want to say no. You don’t want to leave, you want to stay and fight. You promised Din all that time ago that you wouldn’t run, and here you are, deserting the people that you’re supposed to protect. Finally, though, because of the look in his eyes, you nod. “Don’t you dare let them touch you,” you manage, and your voice only cracks on the last word, which is an improvement. Wedge nods back, and then he’s gone, running through the hangar to his X-Wing. You watch him take off, and your eyes track the decoy ship that’s supposed to be yours, and as the three fighters go after it, you exhale and punch it. You’re moving fast, too fast, and your takeoff is sloppy, but you know Wedge wouldn’t tell you to book it if he didn’t mean it, so you fly recklessly and you fly fast.

When you hurtle out of the atmosphere, you catch one of the fighters diverting from the group to chase after you, so you don’t even bother punching in coordinates. You just floor it. “C’mon, Kicker,” you whisper, voice low and desperate, as she shudders and groans to hop into warp. “I know you want to go slow, but now is really not the time—”

And, like the rebel she is, she sputters down to nothing.

“Fuck!” you scream, loud, too loud, it hurts your own ears, but you get up and start pounding on the dashboard while the fighter’s getting closer and closer. You look out the window as you flip switches and slam on buttons, and now you’ve got their attention, too, and you watch in panic as the ships flock to you, firing, trying to hail you on your comm.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. Turn of your shields and lower your blasters.”

“Like hell,” you spit, “Kicker, I’m serious, I need you to work now—”

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You have been warned once.”

“Warn me again, then,” you seethe, closing your eyes as you disconnect one of the wires and try to spark it with the other.

“This is an order from Moff Gideon. You are resisting capture. If you disobey one more time, we will fire on you instead of taking you prisoner.”

You ignore them. If this works, the ship will finally hop into warp, and you’ll be in the clear not only to evade, but to shoot back at them. If it doesn’t, you’re about to die in a fiery explosion, and all of your promises to Wedge would go—very quickly—down the drain. You cross your heart and pray to the Maker that you did the right thing, and then there’s nothing, just three very large—and very scary—TIE fighters about to surround you and take you prisoner at best, and then, finally, the glorious rebel she is, Kicker thunders to life. “Yes!” you scream, buckling in, cracking your neck, putting one hand on the accelerator and one thumb over your blasters. You have a second to do this, and you need to do it right.

“This is your final warning. Either board our ship or die.”

“Die,” you answer, your voice calm and not much like yours. As you speak, you push the accelerator forward, hit warp, and fire. You catch the biggest fighter right on the wing, not a hard hit, but enough to knock it back into the other two.

“Get back here, scum—” the pilot shouts, but you’re already in hyperspace.

“That’s Rebel scum to you,” you say, and the grin that swallows up your whole face is worth every bit of the close call.

You don’t know where to go. You don’t really care, because the farther you get away from the Alliance, the safer they’ll be, so you just set Kicker to coast through warp and lean back, seeing how far she’ll take you. Maybe she’ll dump you on a desert planet, or maybe she’ll crash land you on Nevarro again. Your heart feels daggered, impaled. There’s no way you could go back there. Sure, maybe Din wouldn’t be there, but Cara would be, and Greef Karga, and all the other people you met in the Guild. They’d ask questions, for starters, and Cara might go after Din and kick the shit out of him, and it would just leave you on the verge of tears. You want to go somewhere populated, you think, like Dantooine was, even though you know you can’t go back there yet. It’s too fresh, and Gideon’s men might come looking, and, besides, if Din wants you back, he’s going to have to chase you a little.

“Novalise,” you whisper to yourself, echoing the time almost a decade ago where you only had your name out here to hold onto, to bring you back to life. It still sounds like yours—no matter Din knowing it, no matter how you shared it with Arlen, no matter that it’s what everyone in the Alliance calls you now, after you told Wedge you prefer it to your original name. It’s yours, and right now, your own self feels like home.

So you coast. You hop out of warp every few hours to make sure that no one’s after you, but no one seems to have tracked you anywhere. It’s quiet out here, but it’s not the kind of shattering silence that it used to be. You sleep sometimes, huddling under the next of blankets for warmth, and then you go back to your chair to spin and look out at the stars.

You’re not sure how long it takes, but it feels like a few days when you finally decide to hop out of warp for good. You’re not sure exactly where you are, but you need food, and you need fuel, and you don’t think you drifted into the Mid Rim. It takes a little searching for anywhere that looks populated, but when you drift into the middle of an asteroid field, you realize you’re in Polis Massa. You’ve never been here. It’s not as filled with people as it used to be, once you break through the atmosphere on the rock that holds the research base, but it’s large and it has food and fuel. This is where your dad would go, before he joined the Alliance. Here and Coruscant, or what was left of it, had the most history about language and linguistics, and he’d take day trips from Yavin to collect as much research as he could to bring back and share with you.

It feels familiar here. Even though it’s not home, or anything close to it, you know that there’s something pulling you here, and something anchoring you too. The city is dense, but there aren’t a lot of people out and about. It’s dark here, darker than you imagined, so when you park Kicker in a landing bay, you bring a small flashlight with you. People don’t pay you much mind out on the street, even while you’re dressed in glaring orange, which is comforting after the close call you just had back on Hoth.

You wander. For a while, until the city starts getting lighter on the horizon line. Soon, the cafes and small markets on the street open up, and you sit outside, still wrapped up in your parka, glad to not be shivering. You eat, eventually, and have a steaming mug of caf, which helps. You don’t live the way it makes you feel, all jittery and nervous, and you don’t love the taste, either, but you’re happy for the warmth. Eventually, people filter in and out of the streets and you start to make your way deeper into the heart of the city.

You trip over the cobblestones at one point, practically launching yourself into the person ahead of you. You wince at his dirty look. “Sorry!” you call after him, and you hear him grumbling, but he acknowledges you with a nod. When you stand back up, you see where you are—the research institute your dad always talked about, where he’d go and spend hours reading about the different languages in the galaxy, to write them down and bring them back to you. You hesitate, for a second, and then you’re climbing the stone steps, driven by ache and longing.

It’s massive in here. It’s gorgeous, but huge, and the shelves are stacked all the way up to the ceiling. You have no idea where to start, but you pick an aisle at random and start browsing. You’re not sure what you’re looking for, if it’s something to connect you with your family or to connect you to this new life you’re haphazardly building for yourself, but you stumble again and nearly knock over the librarian.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage, seeing how tiny she is, how frail. “I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s quite all right, dear,” she answers, kindly, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses on her face. “Can I hep you find anything?”

“The…language section,” you say, decidedly, eyes still caught on how many books there are here, how many years it would take you to read every one. “Linguistics.”

You follow her deeper into the labyrinth of bookcases, and when she shows you where the linguistics shelves are, you thank her excessively, your gaze buried deep on the titles on the spines. Most of them are in Basic, likely for inclusive access to anyone who ventures here, but there’s so many that have unfamiliar letters, the way they jut out and curl around themselves, and when your finger finds one, it falls open.

You don’t know what it is at first. You just feel called to it, opening it up and poring over the pages, and then a familiar word catches your eye. Kar’taylir. To know. To hold in the heart. Your own heart catches in your throat, stomach twisting itself over in impossible knots. You slam the cover closed to look closer at the text, and you realize it’s a dictionary of Mando’a, and all its translations.

There are tears in your eyes. You came here, to be closer to your father, sure, but also because you wanted to build something new. And you walked through these doors that held millions of books, and the one you picked out was a dictionary of language that your fiancé shared with you. It’s too much. You choke back a quiet sob, hoping everyone else here for research can’t hear your silenced wailing. Against your better judgement, you tear through the pages, looking for the familiar syllables, and when your finger finds the word cyar’ika, you have to close your eyes and desperately beg your heart to stop beating so horrifically, to slow the pulse down.

You follow the word over to its translation in Basic. Cyar’ika, it reads, sweetheart, beloved.

Beloved. Beloved. It says beloved, it doesn’t just mean sweet thing, it doesn’t mean that you’re kind and close to his heart. Din had been calling you his beloved for months, and then he fucking left you.

It’s too much. Everything is hot and fuzzy. You slam the book shut, heart pounding a staccato in your chest. Immediately, you get up and run. You don’t know where you’re going. In hindsight, you should have put the book back, but you didn’t. You’re running. You promised Din you’d never run, but he promised you forever and then stole it away, so you don’t owe him a damn thing anymore. You’re crying, loudly, openly, and when you rush by the same librarian you toss her a halfhearted apology.

You trip going down the steps, bang your knee up something horrible. It makes your eyes flash white hot for a second, but you pick yourself up and just keep going. You only have a vague idea where Kicker is, but you run in that general direction, blood dripping down your scraped knee, and then you’ve found the landing slot. You hurry up the ladder, not even bothering to get out the bacta kit that you stowed in the hull of the ship, just desperate to get out of here, to go somewhere else. It doesn’t matter.

You have history with Din on so many planets, it’s impossible to pick one where he won’t be hanging in the air. But something feels horribly right about heading to Tatooine, considering he hates desert planets and you can hide in plain sight. Maybe you’ll go to Mos Eisley and pick up bartending, maybe you’ll be a hermit that lives in the sand, maybe you’ll learn to speak Tusken and really never be seen from again. But before you breach the atmosphere, you call Wedge.

“Rebel girl,” he sighs, coming in almost immediately. “I was worried. You didn’t respond earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. That seems to be the only thing you can utter today. “I—I went into warp for a while, turned off my comm. I was just on Polis Massa, just for the day, but it’s not—”

“Safe there,” Wedge interrupts, and you want to tell him that’s not what you meant, but he’s still talking. “We intercepted the comms of some of the people sticking close to the Empire. There’s enemies there, I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” you say quietly. “I’m going to Tatooine. Not forever, just for a bit. I figure I can ditch Kicker—the ship—somewhere safe and get some sort of job for a few weeks, throw people off my trail.”

“Good call,” Wedge says, then he sighs. “Luke’s from there, you know.”

You swallow. “I know. Listen, don’t tell anyone else where I am, but if he asks—”

“I’ll tell him where you are,” Wedge assures you. “Can you get word out to your fiancé?”

You gulp, slowly coating towards the atmosphere line, watching how your whole vision fills up with sun and sand. “I’m not sure,” you say, barely anything at all. “Listen, Wedge, I gotta go. Thank you for checking in on me. I’ll tell you if I’m headed anywhere else.”

“Do that,” he agrees. “Lay low. Unless you need to go after Gideon. But if that happens, you call me. You have to promise you’ll let me help. Not the full Alliance, if you don’t want our guns and ships. But you have to call me. I’m not letting you go in there alone.”

Your eyes fill up with tears. You don’t have the energy to argue, really, so you don’t. You just nod, slowly, finding a safe place to land. “I promise,” you say eventually.

“Nova?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” You hear the line go dead, but you nod again against your own company in the cockpit. “

“I will,” you manage, low and deliberate.

It’s hot out here. It’s a no-brainer, you know how relentless Tatooine’s suns are, but it’s even worse than you imagined. You shed the parka, most of the jumpsuit, and tie your hair up on the top of your head before you step out into the sand, but even then, in just your tank top and light pants, it’s ridiculously hot. You struggle for the first few klicks, and then the suns slowly start to go over the horizon, and it’s a bit more bearable. You drink the last of your water, and keep stumbling closer and closer to a settlement.

It’s not Mos Eisley, but it’s a cantina. Smaller, probably lower profile, and you stagger in with your empty water canteen and your bag full of the few credits you have left, and you pick a small table out of the way to sit down upon. The wall is cool, and you press yourself up against it as you signal the waitress.

She’s definitely not human, but you’re not sure what race she is, because the dark in here is such a stark contrast against how blinding the light was outside, and your eyes haven’t fully adjusted. “Hi,” you say, your voice coming out cracked. “Can I please get some water, and—and something to eat?”

“What would you like?” she asks, and you balk at the menu, all of which has meat on it. The thought of putting anything made out of mat in your mouth makes your stomach roil, so you shake your head.

“Is there anything you offer—um, that doesn’t have meat?” you ask, and your words come out small.

“We have a plate of vegetables,” she answers, “but they’re not the freshest—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, warmly, “that’s fine, thank you.”

She gives you a soft smile and offers you a whole pitcher of water. You should pour some in your canteen, but you just start drinking straight from the jug, gulping it down as fast as you can, trying to get rid of the dry heat in the back of your throat. When she comes back with your food, the water it totally drained, and you ask for a refill as your stomach grumbles.

“Can I get anything else for you?” she asks, and you shake your head, and she starts walking away.

“Wait,” you call after her, mouth full of food, “wait—uh, do you happen to have any positions open? For a job? I can’t offer much, but I’m a good cook, or I could clean, I’m good at that too—”

“What’s your name?”

You swallow around your mouth of food. “Novalise. And I usually have much better manners than this, I’m sorry.”

She smiles. “I’m Kuna,” she answers. “We only have pick-up jobs available around here right now, I’m afraid. It’s not steady pay, but it’s something, and at least it’s out of the heat.”

“Yes,” you say immediately, “yes, I would love that, whatever you have for me. Thank you.”

Kuna nods. “Dinner’s on the house,” she says, voice still lowered, “and you can come back sometime tomorrow to start, if that works.”

“Yes,” you nod. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you so much.”

You sleep better that night than you have in the last week, which isn’t saying much, but at least the hulking silence of being alone in the ship is satiated with the knowledge that you’re not going to be easily accessible to anyone that doesn’t wander into the cantina, and after you hike back to Kicker, you fly her closer to the hangar on the edge of town and cover most of the ship with a tarp you find rolled up in the hull. As long as stormtroopers or anyone associated with Gideon doesn’t stop in the hangar on the outskirts of town, you’re safe.

The work is hard, and slow, but it’s rewarding. It gives you that same distracted feeling that working with Arlen at the hostel did, and something to show for it. You mostly clean, sweeping out the freshers and scrubbing down the bar, but you get the stools spotless and you’re able to polish the backs and seats of some of the other cluttered chairs, moving tables back and forth to best optimize the space. After a few weeks of working a handful of days, Kuna lets you back behind the bar. Mostly, you’re making small drinks, no big cocktails or anything fancy, but you like it. It’s nice to interact with people, even if you don’t share a language with them, and it keeps your mind off the book of Mando’a and Din stranding you on Dantooine after promising you an eternity.

You don’t care that it’s temporary. There’s nothing momentary about heartbreak, nothing compartmentalized enough for you to simply forgive him. Not now. And maybe not ever. But your heart yearns for Grogu. Whenever you let your mind wander, you tap into the Force as much as you can, searching for him, or searching for Luke Skywalker, trying to figure out if they’re okay, if Grogu is still under Gideon’s grasp, and in the corners of your visions, you look for Din.

It’s involuntary. It hurts, and it leaves you reeling, heart spinning out into an abyss you can’t cartograph your way back from. So you try to stay distracted, try to keep busy. Days pass, and you’re not sure for how long, but they’re filled with work and you sleep at the end of them, restless, with nightmares, but you’re still getting sleep, and that’s all that matters right now.

Kuna lets you start serving drinks unsupervised, which isn’t much, but it makes you feel accomplished. The whole cantina looks better every day you’re here, and it’s something to be proud of, especially since you haven’t done anything to call attention to yourself other than being a woman in the middle of a skeevy bar in the desert, which just means you attract creeps instead of stormtroopers. It’s a good bargain. One night, you serve a regular, a Twi’lek with green skin, not purple, and you can look at her without seeing Xi’an, her dead body, or Din. She’s kind, and she asks about you as much as you ask about her, and you walk out of the bar to clean up the mess one group of people left behind, letting the rest of the people filter out for closing time.

When you hear your name, you think you’re hallucinating it. It comes out of nowhere, and the voice that it comes from is familiar, trusting, warm. And there’s the kicker: it’s unmodulated. You’re pretty sure you’re imagining it, because you’ve spent so many nights playing over Din’s voice in your mind, his promises, the way he broke them. And still, you freeze, turning around, feeling completely suspended on the space-time continuum.

Standing there, unmasked, heartbreak written all over his face, is your Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian. As your heart hammers, drowning out every impulse to run towards him and jump into his arms, you have to remind yourself he left you, and even though he found you, he’s not yours anymore.

*

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*

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!! thank you all for being patient and bearing with me these past few weeks!! i promise more is coming, and we still have the whole last arc to go, so SM isn't ending soon ;) and when it does? i already have plans for a sequel in the works!

so sorry again that this is a day late!!! i hope you loved it anyway <3

xoxo, amelie

#something more #something more fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x original character #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x original character #the mandalorian x oc #din x nova #dinova #novalise #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x oc #mando x original character #mando x original female character #pedro pascal fic #pedro character fic #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut

[darkisrising]

Rain, by DarkIsRising

Rain (Weather series pt1)

The first time Luke felt a pressure drop before a thunderstorm, he’d thought it was something to do with the Force. He’d been on Dagobah lifting Master Yoda in the air while balancing in a handstand that wobbled more and more with every passing minute when he’d noticed the change. A creeping cold that stole across his skin leaving a slight shiver in its wake. The sudden realization that the swamp had gone silent, all the creatures that had been stirring the marsh grasses and battering the trunks of trees in search of insects to eat were still—gone into hiding—as if they knew something he did not.

Then the rain had started, great gouts of it, and he’d yelped as he fell out of his position, sending his master down with an unceremonious thud.

“Is this the Darkside?” he’d called, yelling to be heard over the thick raindrops that pelted from the sky, eyes stinging with the ones that caught in his eyelashes and ran in rivers from his hair.

Master Yoda had only laughed at his bewildered pupil, taking pity on him as he explained: “A rainstorm it is, young Skywalker. Come. Back to my home we shall go.”

By the time they got back to the hovel his master called home, thunder was rumbling the humble walls and lightning was crackling sideways, casting strange shapes through the shadows. Luke had shivered, clutching a tattered blanket around his shoulders, as he wondered how something that could be so necessary for life could be so destructive and angry.

Yavin 4's rainstorms are a bit like that.

"It's okay, little one," Luke soothes as Grogu buries his face in his master’s side, little claws clutching his black cloak tight as another roll of thunder shakes the temple’s ancient walls. "We're safe in here."

Artoo clicks out a question, the gentle beeps of binary barely audible over the sound of rain as it pounds against ceiling and ground, echoing through the tall, cavernous halls. This isn’t the most inviting place to bring a youngling, but it’s where Luke has been living since Leia had officially removed him from any and all New Republic business with strict orders not to show his face around the senate until he had a rebuilt Jedi order to show for himself, and Luke—who’d been drowning in requests he could never say no to to aid the fledgling governmental body, even if it meant neglecting the one thing he felt most called to do—had been so relieved he’d kissed her on the cheek and swore he’d never loved her more than at that very instant.  

He’d come to Yavin 4 with dreams—visions, really—of a school of padawans; a collection of Force users who lived and learned in a place that breathed with life and resonated with the deep spiritual memories of their shared Jedi past.

Instead what he’d gotten was a dismayingly large temple whose ceilings have been giving way with increasing frequency and whose planet’s wet season howled with menace; one terrified, preverbal fifty-year-old padawan; one astromech fretting over the interrupted sleep cycles of sentient beings; and one Jedi master very much out of his depth.

Lightning cracks like an electro-whip and the thunder that comes a half click later is nearly on top of them, rattling the temple with a fury that sends Grogu even deeper into Luke’s side. 

“You’re alright, we’re fine.” Luke lets his voice turn soft and nonsensical like Aunt Beru had murmured when he’d been a kid waking up the homestead with his nightmares of blue lightning and death-white hands that he knows now had been whispers of the future. 

Bringing his ungloved hand up, Luke can pick up traces of Grogu’s thoughts as his palm curls around the delicate curve of the shivering child’s head. They aren’t much more than snatches of moments but Luke knows they are memories by the taste of them. There is a cramped darkness and outside of it are guttural howls and grunts of pain and the wet snick of breath leaving the lungs of the dying. There are the pings of blaster bolts and the clash of metal on metal and something that whistles through the air like birds. More than anything there is fear—so much fear—and worry for the big man with gentle hands and the silver helmet.

Luke has spent too many days wading through excited chatter not to recognize the Mandalorian that had taken Grogu in as his own only to let him go. 

And there are plenty of reasons in the sobering light of day why Luke shouldn’t—why he told himself he couldn’t—let this attachment of Grogu’s linger. The texts he’s unearthed and the few beings he’s found who remember the Jedi all agree that there were strict rules about this sort of thing. Rules that could see a Jedi expelled from the Order if broken. Rules that he suspects his very birth had violated, so perhaps no one can appreciate the reasons behind those rules more than he who has seen the twisted, broken man that his father had become. 

Still.

Still, he’d asked Han weeks ago if he might know someone that knew someone that knew a Mandalorian with unpainted armor. And if that person could get him a comm code which Luke has kept tucked away—just in case—though in case of what he can’t say.  

Outside the thunder roars and beneath his hand Grogu shakes and maybe this is why he’d done it. 

“Come here, young one. Let’s see if this works.” Luke couldn’t bring himself to try the code when he’d gotten it, and he doesn’t want to get the child’s hopes up by giving voice to the thing he’s about to attempt in case there is nothing but static on the other end.

“Yeah?” a husky voice answers, tinny from a vocoder, and Luke can tell by the swivel of green ears and the widening of dark eyes that Han’s contacts had gotten it right.

“Hey.” Luke starts and then falters. He licks his lips, suddenly at a loss for words but Grogu is chattering all at once and his excitement is infectious enough that Luke finds himself laughing as pointed green claws grab for the comm in his hand.

On the other end a breath is sucked in, fast and tight, and then the Mandalorian says in breathy wonderment “Kid? Is that you?”

“Yeah. Yeah he’s here,” Luke says, more confident now. “Having a bit of a bad night, though, and I thought maybe talking to you might help. Do you have holo capabilities where you are?”

“I do, hold on. Let me just—” his voice wanders off as buttons are pushed and the familiar hum of a ship’s console powers on. “I was asleep, just give me a minute to find everything.” 

“Oh! I’m sorry we disturbed you—”

“No,” comes the answer, quicker than the cracking lightning and the whipping winds and the falling rain, “No, didn’t disturb me at all.”

A blue holo flickers on, cutting through the temple darkness. It’s staticky from the distance and the weather, but Grogu trills as excited as if the Mandalorian had appeared in front of him in the flesh.

Luke adjusts the angle until their end catches where the youngling is sitting on Luke’s knee and the Mandalorian’s helmet tilts to the side at an inquisitive angle. “Hey there,” he says voice unsteady, or maybe that’s just the bad connection. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Leaning back in his seat, Luke closes his eyes and lets the rise and fall of conversation between two beings that have invented their own language fall over him, strange and wonderful, and for the first time in a long time he feels like he’s made the right call.

#darkisrising fic #din djarin #luke skywalker #grogu #dinluke #eventually #pre relationship #gen

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV 

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.” 

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed. 

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.” 

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”  

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.” 

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.” 

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room. 

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended. 

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober. 

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.” 

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance. 

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat. 

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.” 

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin. 

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.” 

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression. 

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?” 

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

#star wars #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #my au #sw #time travel #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #oh boy we are BUILDING towards the #angst #it 1am #lol im supposed to work tomorrow but ive said that before #thank you everyone for being supportive im glad youre all hyperventilating with me over this sad boy

[guessimwritingficsagain]

Not-a-Jedi (1/?)

Pairing : Din Djarin x reader

Summary : Since Grogu kept having nightmares about his father, you were sent to reunite them both. But nothing goes according to plan.

Warning : violence, sexy thoughts and yearnings.

Author's note : This was supposed to be a one shot but it's not.

When Master Luke had come to you with Grogu, you hadn’t thought much of it. The kid had been restless, he’d explained, visions of his father plaguing his mind every night.

‘I think he is meant to see him. His father might be in danger. Grogu won’t rest until he can help.’

You were no Jedi, but you could fly a ship, fire a blaster, kill, even, and Luke knew you and trusted you so he’d given you Grogu, and the name Nevarro to start with. Lured by the idea of leaving the little shop you worked at, after years of trying to settle down, live a quiet life, and knowing that grumpy boss of yours would take you back when your mission was over, you’d agreed to take Grogu to his father.

Now, though, with a blaster pointed at your head and a Mandalorian at the other end of it, you weren’t so sure. Screw Luke Skywalker and his sweet smiles.

‘Where did you get the kid ?’

You swallowed, your heartbeat picking up. As you were struggling for an answer, Grogu just cooed and his hands shot up towards the Mandalorian.

Luke hadn’t updated the very Mandalorian father about the whereabouts of his kid, you were slowly understanding. And now there was a blaster, pointed directly to your head - that deserved to be emphasized.

You tried to explain, hating how you were struggling, stumbling on your words like a new-born babe on an uneven sidewalk. When you were done, the Mandalorian stood so still you blessed whatever god you didn’t believe in because death was sure to be quick and painless. But it never came.

Instead, you felt Grogu’s weight being lifted from your arms as you heard the Mandalorian whisper :

‘Miss me, kid ?’

The baby cooed, while a lady you hadn’t noticed at first lowered her rifle, tapped the baby on the forehead.

‘Nice to meet you, Jedi. I’m Cara Dune.’

You shook her offered hand and corrected her :

‘Not a Jedi.’

You gave her your name, but she playfully smiled and answered :

‘Nice to meet you, Not-a-Jedi.’

The Mandalorian had turned away, already walking back into town. Cara motioned you to follow. You looked around as you walked. So much sand. You could feel it slipping in your boots, too. Not a fan of that, you decided. It was hot, and your weapon of choice was heavy against your back. Cara was talking to the Mandalorian, though you couldn’t make up her words. You’d rather trail behind, unsure of what to do next. Luke’s words hadn’t been specific. Stay with them or don’t, but if you don’t, know that a time will come when you need to get Grogu back here. When, though, I don’t know.

You liked Luke, really, but the cryptic wizard bullshit was getting old. You briefly wondered how you had been so fascinated by the whole thing in the first place.

Once you were sat at a table in the local cantina, a drink in front of you, Cara casually asked :

‘So, Not-a-Jedi, how come the Jedi trusted you with the kid ?’

She was leaned back on her chair, legs spears apart, but somehow you could tell she was ready to break you in half. And maybe, she could. You might have had five whole teenage, foolish years of something akin to street-fighting behind you, but she was huge and clearly military-trained. And there was a Mandalorian sitting next to her. You weren’t about to take that chance, not after many years of keeping to yourself, the hard muscles softening with a bit of fat here and there, not with the slight softening of your belly. The street-fighting had been about adrenaline. You’d been too young, too cocooned by parents scared of the world, and you’d wanted out. You’d liked the danger of it, back then, the very idea that one wrong move could leave you with a broken spine turning you on, but never scary enough to dwell on it. You’d felt invincible, back then. Fights had been foreplay to encounters in a dark street, quiet fucks to release a tension you shouldn’t have felt. You’d had a family, a roof. You were privileged, but it was boring. A spoiled brat. You still were, in a way. Spoiled brats don’t fight military-trained huge lady, and they surely don’t fight Mandalorians.

‘The Temple needs supplies. Luke gets them from me - from us. I work at a small shop in a town not far from the Temple.’

She nodded, while the Mandalorian kept quiet, visor trained on the kid who was happily downing his food like you hadn’t fed him since you’d departed.

‘Slow down, kid.’ You muttered without thinking and raised a hand to stop him. The stare of the Mandalorian stilled your movement, though, and you brought your hand back to your own cup.

‘You must be tired’, Cara continued. ‘Long journey ?’

Your hands gripped the cup harder at that, the words out of your mouth before you thought better of it.

‘Can’t tell you that.’

She leaned in.

‘Why not ?’

You swallowed, and met her stare.

‘The Temple’s location is secret. If I tell you how long we’ve been travelling for, that’s a piece of information. I can’t do that.’

‘Not even to the kid’s dad ?’ She quipped back, gesturing the unmoving warrior. There was a slight simmer of tension in the air. They don’t know you, they have every right to be suspicious, you reminded yourself. But you didn’t know them either.

‘He’s not the one asking. I don’t know who you are. This is the kind of information I could give to him, but not with you here.’

‘Yes, you can.’ A modulated voice interrupted. ‘I trust Cara with my life. She was there when the Jedi took the Child.’

It wasn’t so much the sentence itself that moved you, but the way Cara’s body slightly turned towards the kid and his father, the way her face grew grave.

‘A week or so.’ You quietly admitted, after a beat.

The Mandalorian hummed in answer and silence fell over you all. You were starting to feel uncomfortable when he spoke again, his voice harsh and cold as the Beskar he was wearing :

‘You’re gonna spend the day and the night here, but tomorrow morning, you’re both gone. It’s too dangerous.’

That, you hadn’t expected.

‘That’s- That’s not what Luke said-‘

‘If I’m in danger, then you both need to leave as soon as possible.’

———

The kid was screaming. You’d figured it would go down that way, with the Mandalorian intent on having you go back to the Temple. Then, a three-fingered hand landed on your cheek and everything went elsewhere.

The Mandalorian was on the floor of a ship you didn’t recognize, chest heaving up and down, and blood everywhere.

‘Stay with me’, you heard yourself say. ‘Come on, stay with me. I’m here, I’m gonna patch you uo. It’s going to be okay. Grogu- Grogu can do it too.’

When you came to, you were on the floor of your own ship, and Grogu was softly crying in the arms of the Mandalorian.

‘We can’t leave’ you choked, as Cara was helping you up. ‘We can’t leave.’

You took a few steps, and you threw up.

When you woke up, you were in a bed and a doctor was checking your vitals. She probed, and asked too many questions, but couldn’t find a single thing wrong with you. You weren’t about to tell her that a fifty-year-old kid had shown you a vision of yourself trying to save his father, so you let it be.

Instead, you used your best bed-ridden voice to convince the Mandalorian that you both should stay with him because you might just die if the kid pulled that kind of stunt again - and maybe you were right, because Grogu meant well but you felt like that time you’d had one week of sexy times with a nice Zeltron lady. You couldn’t walk properly, and your mind was elsewhere, though this time, the elsewhere was definitely not as nice as it had been back then.

Which is how you ended up on Mando’s ship, the Galactica, strapping up for a journey through memory lane. Apparently, since he was stuck with the two of you, Mando wanted to take the kid back to people who mattered to him.

Next stop : Tatooine.

And the welcome on that planet was something else. You liked Peli the moment you met her, with the way she gave shit to Mando just because she could. She took to you, too, and when, your nerves vibrating with excitement, you asked her where you could see a good fight, she pointed right where you needed to be and added, for good mesure :

‘Keeping the kid will cost you extra, but I can take care of him if you want.’

This was the Mandalorian’s money you were playing with, but you figured that if you bet some and won some, that wouldn’t be an issue. You agreed, and went on your merry way while Mando was out shopping for rations.

Except, when you got there, the thrill of it all got to you. Your skin itched to go up there, on the ring. To knock somebody out. You hadn’t felt that way in years. Maybe it was the thrill of the adventure. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, and his cold front. Maybe it was the Mandalorian, but for other reasons : you were supposed to save his life, you’d seen it. Maybe you could prevent this from ever happening if you went back in there.

No matter the reason, you did it. You watched the winner, raised your hand, and got up.

———

It had been easy. Easier than when you were younger. You’d been stuck on the Galactica for a while, and you’d needed release.

You won, fair and square, and went back to the ship, covered in blood but the weight of the ten thousand credits comforting at your side. You went to pay Peli but her answer surprised you :

‘Did you win ?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you ended that idiot ? The blond one ? I can never remember his name but he’s a pain. So smug.’

‘Yes, I did.’

Peli looked at you, and smiled.

‘Free of charge, then. I hope Mando is smart enough to keep you around.’

Mando himself said nothing about the bruises and the cuts on your body, but he let you heal yourself. You figured, then, he knew you could take care of yourself.

You spent a while with Peli, time passing like a blur, the days almost all the same. Mando didn’t seem in a hurry to see you leave anymore, indulging in the selfish feeling of joy to have the kid back. You kept going back to the cantina to fight. Kept winning, and the grin you wore every time you got back must have intrigued Mando because he came to see you fight, one night.

The moment you spotted him in the crowd both threw you off and cleared your mind to a point of concentration you’d never reached before. You didn’t stop to try and understand the feeling, not with the way you could hear every cheer, not with that visor looking right at you, not with that beast suddenly clawing at your belly with new ferocity. You didn’t stop and understand the feeling, because suddenly you were fighting him. Your faceless opponent became Mando in your mind, and as you threw punches with renewed ferocity, images - fantasies - spilled in your mind, of him taking you in a dark alley, both of you still sweaty and dirty from the fight. Even better was the fact that you knew you could never beat him. Would you yield, though ? Would you get on your knees and beg for mercy ? Or would your pride take over your lust and lead you to fight until he had you pinned down and unable to breathe ?

It was amazing, you’d reflect later, how one’s body could move on pure instinct, before for the rest of that fight, your mind was elsewhere but you were moving with a deadly precision, ready to strike, ready to hurt, ready to win. And win, you did.

He wasn’t in the cantina anymore when you came back in after collecting your winnings. The fire in your belly went out suddenly at that, an empty feeling replacing that burning sensation, your fingers no longer tingling but heavy with ache. Your opponent - you still hadn’t caught his name - offered you a drink you accepted, but drank too fast for it to lead to anything more. The urge to get out of there was only made stronger when the man in front of you asked, innocently enough :

‘You travellin’ with the Mandalorian ? You guys showed up here at the same time and he only ever shows up when you fight.’

So he’d come here before, was your first thought. The second, though, was much more unpleasant : the kid.

You were drawing too much attention to yourself. You left the cantina eager to get to the Battlestar, only to be stopped by an iron grip on your arm. Your reflexes kicked in and you landed a hard punch on - something very hard. The pain was so intense it travelled through your whole body and made you shiver, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as your body curled onto itself.

‘It’s me.’ You heard, the modulated voice now familiar. And then, as an afterthought : ‘Sorry.’

‘A little warning, next time. That’d be nice.’ You all but wheezed, the pain in your hand burning you whole.

‘Sorry.’ The helmet repeated, even though the hand on you was not easing its grip.

You had some bruises on you, the morning after. A split lip, too, and an almost nasty wound on your left eyebrow. The biggest bruise of all, though, was the one on the hand that had struck the Mandalorian, a huge ugly shape, purple and green and blue. You couldn’t flex your left hand without tears coming to your eyes. You wondered how sick you were, because you couldn’t look at it without being turned on. It was a good thing that you were right-handed, too : you weren’t that incapacitated, and you could also keep touching yourself in a very capable way. Small blessings.

———

That grip thing, Mando squeezing your arm to lead you wherever, that iron grip to stabilize you, became a thing. And you were quickly getting that what he represented, that sense of danger about him, turned you on almost all the fucking time. The rest of the time, well, he was being a very good dad and that-

Fuck.

Let’s just say you had it bad.

You left for Mos Pelgo a week later, after Mando asked you why you didn’t go fighting anymore and you revealed your worries about being too much in the spotlight, and how afraid you were that it could affect the safety of the kid. After that conversation, he set course immediately for your next destination, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Peli.

‘Thanks for teaching that boy a lesson.’

You thought back on your first fight and answered, your grin predatory :

‘Oh, him ? He was too cocky, but not that good of a fighter, really.’

Peli laughed.

‘Not that boy. The other one. The one with a bucket on his head. Stubborn ass who won’t think for a second about what is good for him. You got him to relax, enjoy his time with the kid and remember people who care about them.’

You could tell it was a lot for her to admit that she cared about the Mandalorian himself so you just shrugged. You watched as she bid her goodbyes to the kid and his father, before she turned to you and added :

‘Hope I’ll see you again, Korra.’

‘Korra ?’ You asked.

It was her turn to shrug as she explained :

‘A silly story my parents used to tell me. In a galaxy far far away, there was a woman who could manipulate fire, earth, air, and water. But she was also very strong. Kicked everybody’s ass. You remind me of that story.’

It wasn’t until later, on the speeder, that Mando said : ‘Korra, I like that.’ With the wind blowing, you thought you’d imagined it. But then, he started calling you that.

Cobb was friendly, funny, a bit too cocky. A few years back, you would have gone for a man like him. The thought that you could, still, and that he might not be opposed to it was nice but not enticing enough for you to act on it. Still, the two of you fell into a rhythm of harmless banter, and flirting. What could have been fun became a game of pushing and pulling : the Marshal would make you laugh and Mando would just grab your arm, the feeling of his grip now familiar to you, something to ground you, even. You entertained the fantasy, for a moment, that he wanted you the way you wanted him.

And maybe, maybe, you were not wrong.

Here you were, a few days after landing, joking with the Marshal as you felt Mando’s hand grab your arm. Tight, like that time after the fight. That shouldn’t have made you restless but it dit, your knees bouncing with excitement at the idea to take on the Mandalorian himself. So when everybody started to go to bed, he grabbed your arm, again, and led you to the Battlestar. Once you were alone, the kid asleep, he dropped all the Beskar except for the helmet, and whispered, a challenge :

‘Come on, Korra, come at me.’

You did as you were asked, a nice obedient girl even though you were feral. He won, though. Of course he did. Your back was hurting against the floor as one of his hands kept you there, easily. He was looking at you, you felt, above you as one hand tied yours together, and the other on your ribs, right below your heart.

‘Din.’ He said.

Din, you understood, as your mind went back to that fight, that fantasy.

Din, you thought after he let you laying there, chest heaving, while he entered new coordinates.

------

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