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demieyesore · 27 days

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U WRITE SO GOOD?!? I HAD TO HIDE MY PHONE IN PUBLIC 💀😭 more dark Anakin PLS. I loved the dom side but now I wanna see sub side and the differences. I personally think he’s a switch tbh. It would be too boring to be dom or sun all the time BUT ANYWAYS sun dark ani.

If you need ideas: he tries to convince reader to do something (you choose), reader is his master, paranoid toxic reader and he makes it worse IDK man I just love these types of fics 🤭 I eat them up. It’s even better when the reader acts innocent but is worse 😭 honestly you could just combine shit atp and I’ll eat it up anyways

Pretty When You Cry - Anakin Skywalker

Summary - Anakin tries to manipulate you by crying after overhearing Obi-Wan convince you to leave him.

Warnings / Mentions - Kenobi!Reader, GN!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sub!Anakin, Padawan!Anakin, Master!Reader, Toxic!Reader, Paranoid!Reader, BPD coded reader, basically just BPD x BPD couple, Reader has an innocent façade, Reader actually believes their innocent so victim complex reader, Anakin triggers reader to have an episode, def angsty fic but ends with smut, literally so much manipulation...breeding kink, crying kink, biting kink, mentions of babytrapping

A/N - The Dom part of me aches when I see men crying, I both want to care for them and make them worse, also I want to make it known that I was diagnosed with Bipolar and I'm pretty sure I have BPD as well, so I'm hoping that anyone who reads this that has BPD relates to it and that it isn't just my bipolar lol, ALSO THANK YOUUUUU❤️❤️❤️

Requested - Yes

Word Count - 2556 words

Taglist - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely @yourenogoodforme @xzaddyzanakinx (just bc I thought you might like this one, let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future)

It was really no surprise when you were yet again talking to your older brother about your problems with Anakin. He was already well aware the both of you were breaking the code, but he never said anything to anyone since you were his beloved sibling. Obi-Wan always assumed that he could get you to stop the relationship with Anakin but he never anticipated just how abusive you were to each other.

He often remembers the time when he saw tears streaming down your face, you were sobbing, begging Anakin not to leave you, even at some parts yelling at him. Obi was quite shocked when he heard you yelling at Anakin about how much you hated the Padawan. It was like you were so full of love for young Skywalker, most days you would do anything to make him smile. But there were times, periods where you would do nothing but scream about how much you hated life. Episodes where you were so paranoid about people leaving you, that it was like a flip switched.

One where the light pink aura of love would turn to a fire of red hot flames. It was such a black and white way of thinking. Obi-Wan knows that it's not your fault you act this way. The abusive household you were in wired you to be this way. And it was clear that Anakin had a similar experience.

You and Anakin were so complicated. You both were so devoted to each other. Always making sure to have the other's back on missions. But at the same time, you made each other worse.

Anakin was originally Obi-Wan's Padawan before getting transferred to you. You had just become a Master Jedi, when Obi requested the switch. He truly believed at the time that you would help Anakin become the best Jedi he could be. He saw how you interacted before Anakin became your Padawan. He had no idea about the little crush you both had on each other, only seeing how motivated Anakin would get around you to be better. A passion that Anakin didn't have when working with Obi-Wan.

This time, you were wrapped in your brother's arms. He was whispering reassuring things to you, trying to get you to calm down. The three of you were on a mission, body guarding and sworn to protect Padme. Anakin was currently watching over her as she slept. But as soon as you saw how Anakin looked at Padme, that little flip switched.

The one where you felt so much hate for him. The one that kept teeter tottering between the love for him and the feeling that he was about to abandon you.

"Obi- I...I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I thought he loved me but the way he was looking at her. He was openly flirting with her. Right in front of me, like I wasn't even there. He can't leave me, I won't let him Obi. I swear to the maker that he won't." Your brother felt...distraught for you. It was a hard emotion to explain. He was worried for you, and for Anakin. But he felt that this whole situation was his fault. If Obi-Wan hadn't asked the council to let Anakin train under you, you wouldn't be in such despair. You wouldn't feel physical pain in your chest just from your emotions.

"I fear I've made a mistake." Obi-Wan admitted as his hand caressed your hair in a soothing manner. "I believe that it would be best if Anakin were to be my Padawan again." He tried to tread lightly on the subject, not wanting to make your episode worse.

"No, no, no, Obi please, it's fine, I'll be fine. I know that he's- that I'm...I know that Anakin and I aren't..great for each other but please. I can't be without him." You desperately gripped onto his shirt, trying to make your point clear to him. Anakin was just outside, eavesdropping on the conversation. Padme was sleeping soundly in the next room, he didn't need to be in the room with her to know if something was happening. But he did need to hear this conversation. He needed to make sure that you wouldn't leave him. He wanted to make sure that Obi-Wan wouldn't...influence you into making any bad decisions.

"He's hurting you, don't be blind to that. You're hurting him too. You don't want that, do you?" Obi-Wan asked, his face showing sincere concern.

Regularly, if Obi were to have said that, you would have flipped at him for trying to take Anakin away from you. But in the confusion and pain of your mind. The images flooding into your brain of Anakin and Padme. You only heard the first part of your brother's sentence.

"He's hurting you..." Kept repeating in your head, like someone recorded a hologram of his voice and played it on loop. It just kept getting louder, the button being pressed again, putting you into a fit of rage.

"You're right." You couldn't bare to say anything else. The silence afterwards was so deafening that Anakin had to hold back his tears in fear of you hearing his breath through the door. It was like an emptiness was injected into your veins. A thick silver liquid that would taste like you were choking on mercury. Your mind was so...blank. There were no longer multiple voices in your head yelling. This one was quiet. So eerily quiet.

Anakin wiped his tears, going back towards the room where Padme lays asleep. He felt betrayed, but he couldn't blame you. All his anger was pushed onto Obi-Wan. Anakin was delusional, he fully believed that Obi was the problem. Not him and definitely not you. He knew that he had to persuade you into changing your mind. And what better way than for you to see him crying? Your heart was always so...malleable whenever he was crying. You would always comfort him, your left hand running through his hair while your right would rest on the nape of his neck, playing with the baby hairs.

You'd have your eyebrows furrowed in concern for him but he could always see the part of you that enjoyed it. The way that when he'd wipe his tears or the way that his lower lip would quiver always sent a small smile to your face. Even while crying, you thought he was pretty. You'd look at him with such...adoration, admiration and even a little lust. When he'd look into your eyes and ask for help, when he'd beg for you to save him, he'd notice how your pupils expanded, dilated with desire. The way that your thighs would clench shut.

Once Obi-Wan calmed you down enough, you collected yourself, thanking your brother for once again helping you to see straight. You pushed open the door, Obi following behind you into the hallway only to see Anakin sitting against Padme's door. Tears dripping down from his eyes. His hands were hanging loosely over his knees as he stared harshly at the ground.

Obi-Wan held up his hand, signaling to you that he would watch over Padme as you talked to Anakin.

Anakin moved, leaning forward to let Obi into the Previous queen's chambers. His tearful eyes glanced up into yours, already taking note of how you stared back at him like he was nothing. He would have to play more into it just to get you to come back to him. He'd be lying if he said that your empty eyes didn't scare him.

You grabbed his wrist, pulling him into one of the spare bedrooms far away from Padme's. Not wanting to disturb her sleep.

You said nothing at first, not even looking at him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your back face him as you zoned out, still staring at the now closed door. You had nothing in your mind, absolutely nothing. But you were still so wrapped up in your mind. You felt like you weren't present in your body.

The only thing that brought you back to the present moment was the sound of Anakin beginning to whimper. He sounded like he was in pain. And even though you were so upset and mad with him, you'd rather slit your own throat than to hear him in agony. You quickly turned around to see Anakin sinking in on himself, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to not let more tears fall. Your heart ached, your body reacting before you even thought.

Your knees hit the floor in front of the bed, your hands resting on his knees as you looked up into his eyes. Wet droplets falling onto his shirt, the material soaking it up.

"What's wrong Babyboy?" You were slightly shocked to hear your own voice, your body still responding out of impulse. Anakin immediately knew that he had you, you were back in his grasp and it was time for him to mold you into what he wanted, what he needed you to be.

"He turned you against me." Anakin said sharply, making eye contact. You could see the anger and betrayal in his soul. "Ani, what are you talking about?" The sweetness ripples out of your mouth, despite the fact that you knew exactly what he was talking about. You knew that he must have been listening if he was crying.

"Obi-Wan. He made you hate me. You're gonna leave me. How could you?" His voice shook, cracking at the end from pain. Your hand shot up to his cheek, wiping a stray as you caressed his face.

"I could never hate you. Not entirely..." You breathe out in a sigh. You were so worried about him but then you saw the little tremble of his bottom lip, the way he leaned into your touch, making you feel so loved, so appreciated, so important.

"You know that I hate seeing you cry..." You lied through your teeth, trying to keep up the mask of only worry. of course you were worried about him, but you never wanted him to know the deeper feelings you feel when he cries.

"Liar." Ani let out a choked laugh, a cute grin spreading across his face albeit tears were adorning it. "You love seeing me cry." He whispers, like he was reminding you of your own secret.

"It's not my fault." You defended as a joke, your face full of devotion for him.

"That's just what you do, because I'm pretty when I cry." Anakin rolled his eyes, the redness and puffiness from crying becoming more evident on his face. His lips were swollen, bitten raw.

"The prettiest." You said, leaning up to peck at his lips, just giving him a quick little kiss, but Anakin wanted more. He whined when you broke the contact, inviting you to kiss him more, kiss him with passion and fire. So you did just that, reconnecting your lips, practically devouring him in the kiss.

He moaned into the kiss, the sensation reverberating throughout your bones before settling in your core.

"I don't care how bad we are for each other, you're mine and always will be." You muttered against his mouth, feeling when he smiled into the kiss. You stood up from your spot on the floor in front of him and quickly discarded your clothes, leaving yourself in just your bra and underwear. You straddled his lap, kissing him once more as you tugged at his shirt.

He aided you in the removal of his shirt, groaning against your lips when he felt you grind against his boner.

"Stop..." He mumbled in a whimper at your teasing.

You held onto his shoulders, feeling the muscles just beneath the skin. Trailing your hands down to his pants, swiftly undoing them. You pulled them as far down as you could while straddling his lap. Your hand slipped past his briefs and gently grasped his length. Anakin shifted uncomfortably at the touch, his back straightening as his breathing stopped momentarily.

Your touch always was the death of him but your breath, your kiss, always brought him back.

"Master, please-" He whimpered, his mouth wavering into a quick frown. You bit at his lip, shutting him up. You pulled away from the kiss, looking down as you pumped his cock in your hand a couple of times, collecting the shared saliva from the kiss and spitting onto his tip.

His Adams apple bobbed, his hands gripping the side of the bed sharply. His head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your hand worked up and down his length. He clenched his jaw, trying his hardest to keep his mouth shut but it was nearly impossible to stay quiet. The pleasure he felt from your voice alone would make him cum almost instantly, your hand just added more shockwaves.

"You don't have to be silent..." You remind him, mocking the way he's trying so hard to not make any noise.

He moans, whimpering and squirming under your touch when he leans forward, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

"Please just..." He stutters out, biting his tongue as he lifts his hips, sliding his cock up into your hand more.

"So needy..." You teased, stopped all your movement. Anakin's head flew up, looking into your eyes with desperation. He was about to complain when you lifted yourself, pulling your underwear to the side and swiping his tip through your folds. The feeling made him groan in pleasure, sucking in a deep breath of air.

You teased him for a little bit longer, his pre-cum pressing against your clit when you finally put all your weight onto him. His cock sinking into your entrance. He choked out a sob of pleasure, feeling how tight you were around him. He wrapped his arms around you, his mouth latching onto your shoulder, biting down as he thrusted up into you. Your own moans just fueled him to do better, reach deeper. His tears stained your skin, his whimpers vibrating against your shoulder.

"Please, I want-" His question is cut off when he feels you pulsate around him, his eyes widening with need. "Please, baby just let me- need to cum so bad...Master please, I need to cum- cum inside you-" He begged, his desperation dripping off him in the form of sweat.

"You want to cum inside?" You ask, mocking his need. Anakin swallowed thickly, "You can't- you can't leave me if you're pregnant." He whimpers as he kisses the side of your neck, sucking the skin and leaving purplish red bruises.

You grind down, meeting him when he thrusts. "Such a pretty boy, I'd be so mean to say no...only because you're crying all pretty for me." You mumble, kissing the spot of skin closest to where your head rests against him.

Anakin holds you tightly, almost as if he's afraid you'll whither away, a bead of sweat drops from his forehead as he comes undone with one last thrust. His white hot cum leaking out from his tip and filling you. He thrusts up into you twice more, his grip on you possessive.

"I won't let you ever leave me." Ani mutters as he comes down from his climax, while you're still catching your breath, your cunt fluttering around him.

#anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #yandere anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin fanfiction #dark!anakin #sub!anakin #toxic!anakin

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immagods · 11 days

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Then there are the whispers of a clone frozen in stasis. A medic trying to save his brothers, only to wake up and realise he is the last, all his brothers are gone. They are just rumours. No one's sure if they are true or not, until one day.

One day where Kix sitting in a cantina in the outer rim, where he sees a group of people gathered around a holo. He pays no mind to it at first, that is, until he hears someone say a familiar name. A name he hasn't heard spoken out loud in a long time. A brothers name.

So he gets closer, and he sees what the group of people are looking at. It's the photo. The photo that Rex had hanging on the wall of his office, the one of him, Fives, Echo and Cody. The photo that Fives always said made him and Echo Rex's favourites. Kix remembers that holo, he remembers the battle when it was taken. Remembers it was just after Fives and Echo had gotten back from Arc training. Remembers that he was just behind the camera, waiting to chew Fives out; because 'even if you have ARC training now. It doesn't mean that you can go and do stupid risky shit all the time trying to impress the shinies.'

Kix is drawn from the memories of ghosts when he feels someone tap him on the arm. It's a young girl with big blue familiar looking eyes, and she says that she thinks it cool that he looks exactly like the brave soldiers she learnt about in school. She asks him if his grandfather was a clone, if he knew any clones, if he's heard any stories of the clones. Kix stares at the girl for a moment, thinking about another girl with curious blue eyes, before he answers her. He tells her that he is a clone, that he has so many stories that he can't even count them.

With wide eyes, the girl drags him closer to the holo and pointing at it asks him if he knows the clones in the photo.

And Kix, looking at the holo, thinks of the old mando'a that they used to say; Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. 'I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.'

So he tells the girl.

He tells her how they were his brothers. He tells her how he was apart of the 501st. He tells her how they fought for freedom. He tells her how they were always finding ways to laugh during the war. He tells her how they adopted the jedi into their family. He tells her how no matter how bad things got the clones knew they would be okay as long as they had eachother. He tells her their names.

The more stories he tells the more people listen. And word spreads. The Clones are not all gone. There is one left. And he's telling the stories of the clones, the stories that, when there where millions of clone alive no one wanted to hear. But they want to hear them now, they want to know the clones now. They want to know the worriors that fought for freedom and laid down the foundations for everything after. They clones story may be a tragedy, but it will not be forgotten.

The Vode will be remembered.

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geekforhorror · 9 months

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dom!ani being so pent up after a mission with you and fucking you into oblivion, degrading you about how you were flirting with some of the other jedi knights.

GODDD I LOVE THIS TY BAE

remember your place

pairing: rots!anakin x fem!reader

warning(s): SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), anakin being possessive, dom!anakin, sub!reader, rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, degradation, non-canon jedi knights, dacryphilia?

word count: 1.1k

a/n: i swear to god i’m getting worse at writing.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Anakin grits through his teeth.

He would be referring to how you harmlessly “flirted” with other Jedis on the mission you had just gotten back from. Technically, you weren’t even flirting with them. All you were doing was sharing playful smiles and saying how good of a job they did, but it looked different in his eyes. To him, you were trying to find a way to make him jealous. See, Anakin was very protective of you and wouldn’t allow his girl to act out like this without consequences. That’s how you ended up on his bed with him now towering over you.

“ ‘M sorry Anakin…It didn’t mean anything, I swear,” you say frantically.

“You know what I think, huh? I think you’re a needy little slut who wants my attention. Am I right about that?” he asks.

You felt too embarrassed at first to provide a sufficient verbal response, but you knew he would just punish you more if you didn’t. "Yes,” you answer.

“Yes what, darling?” he said cockily. He wanted to hear the words escape your lips more than anything.

“I-I’m a needy little slut,” you let out.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a confident grin.

Before you know it, he starts stripping you of your clothes until you’re left in only your lacy bra and matching panties. Unbeknownst to you, Anakin can feel himself grow hard at the sight of you almost being bare for him. Not for those other Jedi knights that were being way too friendly with you and certainly not for any other man that wasn’t him.

Anakin goes on to remove his annoying layers of clothing that were preventing him from truly pleasing you. Once he’s down to only his boxers, your eyes caught the sight of his massive hard-on that was practically screaming to be released because of all of the throbbing.

“See what your slutty ass does to me?” he groans breathily. “Y’ make me so hard even when you’re being a fucking brat. It’s so damn annoying,” Anakin says to you, not expecting an answer.

“What are you going to do about it, Skywalker?” you say with a playful smile, hoping he would do what you wanted him to.

That was the last straw for him. He already had enough when you talked to those Jedi knights, but the sass? He couldn’t have his girl talking like this.

“I think I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson since you’re being such a fucking brat for me,” he grits. With that, he proceeds to undo the clasp of your bra and throw it to the floor. He brings his hand to the crotch of your panties and isn’t shocked to find out that they were soaked from his words.

“Well, what do we have here? Looks like my little brat is drenched for me and I haven’t even touched her yet,” he tuts.

“Please Ani… I need you“ you plead.

“You gotta be more specific than that, I’m afraid,” he taunts.

Shit, he was good.

“I want you to fuck me Ani… please,”

“Now, was that so hard? You didn’t have to talk to those useless Jedi knights to get fucked by me. All you had to do was ask like the needy little thing you are,” he spat out. Before you can respond, he rips your dainty lace panties off of you, now revealing your glistening pussy to him.

“Such a pretty little pussy and it’s all for me,” he coos. He takes his boxers off shortly after before flinging them to the floor. He gives you no warning before shoving himself all the way into your tight hole. You gasp and widen your eyes at the sensation of him stretching you out with his fat cock. Before you know it, he starts to move inside of you at a harshening pace all in hopes of getting his point across. That you were his.

“Feels so good…” you moan as you’re truly lost in the moment.

“Yeah? You enjoy getting fucked like the whore you are, don’t you?” Anakin asks, already knowing the answer.

All you can do is nod at his question due to the pleasure coursing through your veins as you were being used like his own personal fuck doll.

“You’re mine, got that? Those assholes don’t know your body like I do… Can’t fuck you like I do…” he grunts with each additional thrust.

“Ani…” you let out in between soft whimpers and the sound of skin slapping against each other.

“They wish they could be me, fucking you till you’re full of my cum like the little cock slut you are,” he adds.

“Harder, Ani,” you beg of him. He smiles at this and the way you look squirming underneath him.

“Of course, my little slut likes it hard,” he says before complying with your request and jackhammering himself harder and rougher inside your clenching pussy. As if it couldn’t get any rougher, he finds that one toe-curling spot inside your cervix that makes you feel like he’s practically splitting you open. The feeling makes you arch your back in pure ecstasy and you knew Anakin fucking loved it.

You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold on for much longer at this rate as you felt the heat squeeze your abdominal walls from the inside, now spreading to your warm cunt.

“Such a good little slut for me… wrapping around me so well,” he says with a moan, relishing in the way your poor little pussy squeezed around his hard cock.

“I-I’m gonna cum… Please let me cum,” you say, more desperate than ever.

“I don’t know if you deserve to cum,” he tuts with sarcastic doe eyes.

“I promise I’ll be good,” you assure him, sounding absolutely pathetic and desperate. That was the way he liked it.

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, searching for a reason to believe your claim.

“Yes I promise! I’ll be so good for you Ani. I’m all yours,” you plead with tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“You’re damn right,” he hissed.

“Can I please cum?” you ask him, feeling like you were going to explode all over him at any given moment.

“You can cum, baby,” he says, thrusting a few more times before feeling your release splash all over his cock which he groans at. The wave of arousal washes over your quivering legs and makes your cunt pulse around him still seated deep inside you. He sloppily pounds himself into you a few more times before he cums as well, panting as he comes down from his high. You feel his seed spill into you, now hugging your spongey and aching walls. He pulls himself out of your once needy cunt before laying beside your tired body.

“Well did you learn your lesson?” he teases playfully.

“I had a pretty good teacher, but maybe I’ll take some more lessons,” you say with a grin on your face, making him chuckle.

“Maker, you’re such a tease,” he replies.

“I know,” you say in a playful tone.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin star wars #star wars fandom #revenge of the sith

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vodika-vibes · 12 days

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Congrats for youe milestone!!! This could sould weird but could I ask for sapphire love with crosshair and jedi reader... from the point of view of the happy batch? (Like they love reader and cross and how they saw blossom and grew the relayionship?)

Love Is A Choice

Summary: Omega watches Crosshair fall in love.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Jedi F!Reader, though the eyes of Omega and Echo

Word Count: 705

Prompt: Sapphire - Wise Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, so I think I understand what you were asking, but following their whole relationship in under 1000 words would have been...impossible. So I hope this is close to what you wanted. Also, with both Omega and the Reader being female, there's a lot of "her" and "she" in this. Sorry.

Omega sits on the stone wall, absently twisting an orange leaf that had fallen from a tree between her fingers, as she watches Crosshair and his girlfriend, the former Jedi General of Clone Force 99.

Omega’s been watching their relationship for a while. From the time it started in the spring, all throughout the summer months, and now, in the autumn, they seem closer than ever.

It’s weird. Their relationship.

The Jedi is amazing. She’s kind and caring and has accepted all of Omega’s brothers into her life as though they’ve always been there, and maybe they have. Hunter did mention that she’s known them for a while, after all. And while Omega loves Crosshair, and she does, she doesn’t understand. He’s so snippy, all of the time.

And their jedi will just smile at him and continue the conversation as though he hadn’t just been rude to her.

If Omega did that, Hunter would have her head! Assuming that Echo didn’t get there first.

“Credit for your thoughts, Omega?” Echo asks as he hops up onto the stone wall next to her. “You’ve been staring at Cross and the General for a hot minute after all.”

Omega frowns, “I don’t get it.” She finally admits, as she watches the older woman lean into Crosshair’s space, her hands folded behind her back. And Omega’s frown deepens when Crosshair says something and places his hand on her face and pushes her away, only for her to laugh and lean back into his space, “He’s…so mean to her.”

Echo glances at the pair, a small grin playing on his lips, “Is that what you see?”

Omega turns her gaze to her brother, “Is that not what you see?” She demands.

He laughs and drapes his scomp over her shoulder, tugging her into his side, “Watch them, Omega. What do you see?”

She sighs and turns her gaze back to the pair on the other side of the yard. Crosshair’s hands are shoves in his pocket, while she seems to be smoothing his shirt. He says something to her, and she laughs before lightly plucking his toothpick from his mouth.

“Two people having a conversation.” Omega says with a sigh.

“She’s flirting with him, and he’s not only letting her, he’s flirting back.” Echo corrects.

“What? How can you tell?”

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off her face. He keeps pushing his hand through his hair. He let her take his toothpick-” Echo lists, “She’s a bit more obvious. Laughing at his jokes, playing with his clothes-”

“But…they’re already dating.” Omega replies.

“Flirting doesn’t stop just because you’re already dating, Omega.” He sounds amused, “You’ll understand when you’re older. Maybe.”

“I still don’t understand.” Omega grumbles.

“Let me ask you a question,” Echo says lightly, a small smile lifting his lips as he watches Crosshair tug on one of her ringlets, “Is love a feeling or a choice?”

“It’s a feeling,” Omega replies instantly.

Echo glances at her, “Are you sure?”

“I…well, I was.” She says with a frown, “Is it not a feeling?”

His smile is gentle, “Love is something you feel here,” He lightly taps his heart, “But you choose here.” He taps his temple.

“That makes even less sense.”

He laughs, and tugs on her ponytail, “It will, someday.” Omega scowls and smacks his hand away from her hair, “Just know, Omega,” He continues as he drops his hand, “Crosshair is choosing her. Everyday he wakes up and he chooses to love her. But she is doing the same thing.”

Omega casts her gaze back to the pair, at some point Crosshair has draped his arm around her waist and she’s leaning into him, “So…you think that they’re happy?”

Echo glances at his brother and at the woman who, hopefully, he’ll be able to call sister sooner rather than later, and a smile crosses his lips as she tugs Crosshair out of the yard and towards the street, her free hand gesturing to the trees that have been painted in reds, oranges, and yellows.

“I think that they’ve never been happier.” Echo confirms.

“Oh.” Omega is quiet for a moment, and then she smiles, “I still don’t get it. But I’m glad that they’re happy.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb omega #tbb echo #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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starlazergazer · 1 year

Text

Nervous

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Anakin is pining over the reader who is a Jedi but is kind of oblivious and shy. Starts off with noticing his gaze from across a room and what the reader thinks are innocent touches but then escalates to thick tension that the reader chooses to ignore due to the code. Eventually Anakin can’t take it anymore and does something about it.

Warnings: Nothing just so much sweet fluff it’ll give you a tooth ache

Word Count: 5.5K

A/N: Actually wrote this one twice lol trying to decide how to do it and went with an alternating reader and Anakin point of view structure as well as changing a few things about the original request that I hope work out so as always let me know what you think!

“You’re staring” a whispered voice suddenly popping up on his right snapped Anakin out of his stupor, his spoon dropping loudly into his bowl in surprise as he jumped slightly, eyes snapping down to his padawan wearing an expression that was much too amused for his liking.

“I’m eating alone snips” he grunts, picking back up his spoon and making a point to keep his eyes down “I have to look somewhere”

“Sure sure” she nods seriously from beside him, moving her head closer to his shoulder and looking out over the room just as he had “well now that I’m here should we both stare at Y/N?”

At the mention of your name he jumped again, moving immediately to try and quiet Ahsoka and only achieving in knocking his bowl to the ground, the spoon reverberating loudly against the bowl as they strike the ground, soup spraying up and splashing Anakin and Ahsoka’s feet, effectively drawing the attention of the entire room.

On instinct Anakin’s gaze came up and sought out yours immediately, catching a small amused smile on your lips, gaze snapping back down to his feet as he felt one of his own grow on his lips in response, mentally scolding both himself and Ahsoka as he felt the tips of his ears go red.

“There, are you happy now?” he asked Ahsoka, sending a glare in the young padawans direction, getting the girls best attempt at holding in her laughter in response. “Yeah that tracks” he sighed, bending down to pick up his now empty bowl. Rushing from the room before he could embarrass himself in front of you any further.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were nervous.

It was a simple, kind gesture, he’d either accept it or he wouldn’t and that was it. You were a general in the republic’s army, you had been in several active war zones left with nothing but your saber to protect you, you could give Anakin Skywalker a ration bar.

In truth this wasn’t something you would normally have ever considered to do. Sure you’d talked to Anakin a few times in passing, even had one mission together that went fine, but you certainly wouldn’t consider yourself friends, colleagues at best to be honest.

But all throughout lunch you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes on you, could swear through the corners of your own that he was looking right at you throughout the meal, and though you knew you were probably being delusional you had to admit it stuck with you.

Between that and the way his eyes so naturally found yours right after the bowl dropped there was some stupid part of you that felt like it was your fault it all happened, and thus felt the need to make it up to him in return.

But as you entered the briefing room, catching Anakin sitting in one of the chairs encircling the holoprojector alone, his soft green eyes scanning the room around him, the way his long slightly curly hair fell so beautifully just above his shoulders, the soft smile that played on his lips as he listened to the conversations around him, you remembered just why you were nervous in the first place. Because being the object of Anakin’s attention for any amount of time always had your heart racing.

Before you could talk yourself out of it you strode up to Anakin’s chair and thrust the bar out in front of his vision, watching the man recoil ever so slightly at the surprise of its appearance, his gaze following your arm up to your face, the corners of his lips perking up into a slight smile even as his eyebrows scrunched in confusion, wordlessly asking you a question.

“I figured since half of your lunch ended up on your shoes, you’d be hungry” you shrugged, feeling your face heat up as he slowly broke out into a wide smile, taking the bar eagerly from your hand, his fingers brushing up against yours ever so slightly as he did so.

“You saw that huh?” You weren’t expecting the question, had already been ready to walk over across the room and take a random seat on the opposite side reliving every embarrassing moment of this short conversation instead of paying attention. Instead, you were stuck awkwardly standing above him, suddenly completely unsure of what you should do with your now empty hands.

“It was pretty hard to miss” you admitted with a small chuckle, delighted to see his expression mirror your as you did it, using this confidence to keep speaking “the good news is there are certainly worse things to be stuck smelling like for the rest of the day”

He laughed at that and you liked the way he laughed, the way his whole body seemed to curl around the sound, the way he almost leaned into you as he did it, your mind already going into overdrive as you worried if you were standing too close to him.

“Oh here this seats empty” another thing to catch you off guard as Anakin gestured vaguely to the seat next to him.

With no real reason to object, and even a small part of you the relished the simple gesture, you nodded sitting down next to him, not missing the way he shifted his weight to lean closer to you as you did so, in fact focusing way too much on that fact. Probably just so that he could hear you better in the loud room.

“Here” you heard him say from beside you, breaking off a portion of the ration bar you had just given him and holding it up to you, prompting you to raise an eyebrow in response.

“I got that for you” you stammered, not taking the piece from his fingers “you know after you embarrassingly spilled your lunch all over your shoes in front of the entire cafeteria”

He shook his head at that, unable to pull a small smile from his lips as he did so, “Well I was trying to be nice but if you’re just going to bully me, I’ll rethink that course of action” and with that he quickly popped the piece he was offering to you into his mouth.

You giggled back at him at that, your shoulder brushing up against his as you did so, immediately pulling back from him, scolding yourself for invading his personal space for a second time in the span of five minutes. It was going to be a tough meeting.

Anakin knew he should probably leave you alone after that.

After pulling you in to sit with him through the incredibly boring tactical meeting and embarrassing himself in front of you at lunch you probably felt like you had seen enough of him for the week at least.

But fate, it would seem, had another plan as he walked into the jedi library and saw you standing in front of one of the shelves.

Still he could’ve gone to another part of the library, he really only needed to look up one thing, he’d be in and out in a few minutes flat. But then you were on your toes, your arm stretched far above your head, the other steadying yourself on a lower shelf, trying desperately to reach a book on the top shelf that fell just inches from your hand. And he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

He was already approaching you before he could stop himself, already ready to reach up and effortlessly pluck the book you wanted from the shelf, but then he saw you bend your knees slightly, getting ready to jump for it.

And that was why his hand immediately went to your waist, to stop you and pull you back slightly, to stop the entire top shelf from falling on top of you as you tried to pull the desired book down. Least that was what he told himself. Why he felt the need to pull you deeper into his chest as he did so, well he had less of an excuse for that.

He was ready to crack some sort of joke about your height, about the catastrophe of an avalanche of books you were about to cause, but then you spun around to face him, big eyes gazing up at him through your lashes, lips slightly parted in surprise, and he felt the words die in his throat, completely forgetting whatever he was going to say in an instant.

“I could’ve gotten it” you objected halfheartedly with a small laugh, and much to his pleasre he could see a new pink hue dusting your cheeks.

“Well I could always just put it back” He shrugged as he leaned in close to you again, reaching over your head to put the book back, telling himself it was just committing to the bit

Then your hands were on his chest and Anakin felt his breath faulter, his movements halted in an instant as you pushed him back from the shelf softly, a wide grin on his face mirroring yours as you did so, the two of you sharing a soft chuckle before he handed you the book, a little sad it was too large to have his hands brush against yours as he did with the ration bar, missing the soft tingle that reverberated through him from the simple contact.

You thanked him with a soft smile, turning to go back to your seat at the desks and Anakin was already talking himself into choosing a desk across the library from you. Telling himself he owed you some respite from him today, even if he had already ruined his last attempt at that as soon as he entered the library.

Then you were talking to him, his brain taking a brief moment to pull himself to attention at your words. “here this seats empty”

He’d never been so happy to hear his own words repeated back at him.

With a smile and a nod he followed you back to the table, giving you a brief moment to pull some of your notes and books towards you own seat and out of his way before sitting down, absolutely relishing the fact that you were making room for him to sit next to you.

“What’re you researching?” he asked you, nodding to the screen in front of you, eager to keep the conversation going.

“Devaron” you answered simply, Anakin watching the way your eyes flicked back between him and the screen as you talked, focusing more on the way your lips moved than the words they said, getting only half sentences if he were honest as you explained your plan to infiltrate a separatist encampment to steal back a holocron.

He let his posture relax more the more you talked, his weight shifting to lean more towards you without even thinking about it, his knees with a mind of their own going to rest softly against yours as he leaned in to look at your screen as you explained, not missing the way you immediately pulled your knee back at the contact, scootching ever so slightly away from him as he leaned in, trying desperately to not let your actions get to him.

Instead he pushed it a little further.

You didn’t even have the chance to think about moving before he was just there, his head floating mere inches above your shoulder, ends of his long hair tickling your ear softly as he peered at the text displayed before you.

“Oh here” You tried to ignore the way the words came out as a squeak, the flush of red on your cheeks at the feeling of his chest just barely skimming your back as you started to lean away, letting him get a better look at the screen before his hand shot out to your shoulder to stop you, pulling you back to your original position.

“No it’s okay you’re fine” he assured you softly, eyes never leaving the screen, hand never leaving your shoulder.

Immediately your brain was in overdrive, focusing on your breathing too much trying to make sure it wasn’t too loud, on the hand that rested on your shoulder and the tingle it sent through the area as his thumb brushed softly up and down, on the scent of his cologne that completely encapsulated you in this moment.

“Would you quit fidgeting it’s hard to read with so much movement coming out of the corner of my eye” he teased you breaking you from your thoughts.

“Well if you’d just let me move you can have the screen all to yourself” you defended, trying again to lean away from him only to have his hand hold you effectively in place.

“you’re not giving me your seat it’s fine we can share just sit still for two seconds” he protested, never once moving from the spot just above your shoulder.

And you tried, oh how you had tried so hard to be still, but he was right there, one of the most gorgeous beings you’d even seen mere inches from your face, the skin beneath his touch burned on your shoulder, his slightly musty scent seemed to completely encapsulate you, and you found it hard to focus on anything but Anakin Skywalker.

Then too quickly he was pulling back, shifting back around to sit down in his seat, a concentrated look on his face as he bent over some of the books you had pulled.

And all you could think about was that that had to have been done on purpose. The way his knee rested against yours when you sat side by side, or his shoulder bumped yours when you walked, you could explain all of that, even the way he seemed to pull you into him as he grabbed the book from over your head, or the way his eyes always seemed to be planted on you when you turned to look at him. Could chalk any of it up to wishful thinking, to innocent touches, to signs of friendship. But what had just happened?

You could read his screen from your position now without straining, without even shifting your weight towards him, there was no reason to get that close, not unless he wanted to.

But the back of your mind was screaming at you, protesting that you were being ridiculous, that there was the jedi code to think of, that Anakin was too good a jedi to even think of breaking it just to form an attachment to someone.

“Why don’t Ahoska and I come with you” His words snapped you back to reality, your cheeks heating up as you realized you weren’t entirely sure how long he had been speaking, how long you had been blatantly staring at him.

“Oh-are you sure?” you asked him in surprise.

“Yeah” he shrugged nonchalantly, looking up from the book before him with a soft smile “Ahoska could use the practice, and it sounds like you could use the backup”

“That would be great actually” you said honestly, gaze flickering back to the map before you, already forming a plan in your mind as you spoke “having a full team there in case things go wrong would be perfect”

“Great” Anakin grinned back at you, a hand coming down to clap your knee softly as he stood, Anakin pulling his hand back from you sooner than you would have liked “We’ll meet you at the loading dock tomorrow morning”

“Sounds good” you smiled back at him as he turned to leave, watching him walk back through the doors, not even thinking to question the fact that he never accomplished whatever he had come to the library to do.

To say that Anakin was happy to see the seat next to you on board was empty was an understatement, he was absolutely ecstatic to the point that not even Ahsoka’s teasing smirk sent is way from across the space could ruin it.

Bounding up to you happily he planted himself in the chair next to you, knocking into your side playfully as he did so, “You ready to go steal a holocron?”

You seemed almost surprised to see him, as if you hadn’t heard him come aboard and walk over to you, but still you painted on a smile, though one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, Anakin’s brain immediately switching over to concern. “what’s wrong?”

You scrunched your brows back at that, immediately pulling away from him though only slightly, gaze going to your feet “what? Nothing?”

He just shook his head at that, his eyes immediately going to your hands and the way your fingers absentmindedly picked at the skin around your nails as you avoided his gaze. Without even thinking his hand shot out, encapsulating one of your in his, his fingers effortlessly intertwining themselves in yours, Anakin wanting to admire just how well your hand fit within his but too preoccupied In trying to figure out what was wrong.

His touch pulled your attention back to him, your gaze bouncing back and forth between his eyes, clearly trying to decide if you should say something.

“It’s alright you can talk to me” he all but whispered, nodding encouragingly, all but begging you to let him in.

“It’s dumb” you dismissed quickly, eyes casting back around the ship but your grip on his hand tightened ever so slightly, Anakin unable to do anything but smile slightly at the gesture, using his thumb to rub lazy circles on the back of your hand.

You gaze was drawn down to your hands in response and Anakin felt his movement hiccup, a brief pause as he worried for a second that was he was doing was wrong, that he was making you uncomfortable, but then he saw the edges of your lips turn up almost imperceptibly and he felt his heart swell in his chest, taking a deep breath and giving your hand a small squeeze letting you know he was here.

“It’s just-“ you stuttered and stopped, finally looking back up at him “Is it dumb that I’m more nervous now with people going than I was when I was going alone”

And though Anakin could never think anything you thought was dumb he couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion at your words “what? Why?”

“Because it’s like” you sighed and he felt your grip go light in his, felt you start to pull away from him, but this time he wouldn’t let you, keeping his grip tight he pulled you softly into him, your shoulder coming to rest calmly against his, your grip thankfully returning in response as a soft chuckle escaped your lips, a sound Anakin grasped onto eagerly. “It’s like now I’m responsible for three more people ya know?” you asked hesitantly, gaze going out to spy on Ahsoka and Rex talking calmly across the room “before it was just me but now if something goes wrong…I just don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me”

And Anakin couldn’t help but grin at that, not wasting the opportunity to lean over and hide his smile in your hair, suppressing his urge to press a kiss to the crown of your head as he did so, “its not dumb, it’s sweet”

You pulled back at his words, eyes going suspiciously to his face “you’re laughing at me”

And with those words he couldn’t help but chuckle, even as he tried to protest “no I’m not-“

“You are” and even your voice started to bounce as you held in your own giggles, Anakin’s cheeks aching ever so slightly as he chuckled back in response.

“No its not-“

But you cut him off again, pushing off of him to stand up but he kept his grip firm, effortlessly pulling you back down into your seat, sure that you had let him do it anyways. “hold on hold on let me explain” he tried to calm himself down, unable to think of anything at first but at how close you now sat next to him, your thigh pressed firmly against his as you all but sat on top of him.

“Look Ahsoka, Rex and I have been on hundreds of missions before and we’ve always made it back” you looked up at him doubtingly and Anakin had to fight the urge to melt into your gaze “we’ve had hundreds of missions go wrong on us, very wrong, and we’ve always been able to handle it. This one won’t be any different”

Your gaze casted back out to Ahsoka and Rex a soft shake in your head as you spoke again, your voice small and hesitant “are you sure”

And finally, Anakin let go of your hand, using his now free arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you into a soft side hug before he whispered “yeah I’m sure”

“As far as the plan?” Ahsoka asked you from the copilots seat, looking up at you from where you stood behind Rex’s chair, watching the separatist encampment come into view.

“There’s three entrances” you explained, barely able to tear your eyes away from the window “main one then two others on each side that are much smaller used mostly for transporting supplies. I’ll take the east one, you and Anakin take the west, Rex stays back here with the ship ready to shoot anyone or take off quickly depending on how things go”

You cast your eyes to look back at Ahsoka who was nodding her head softly as she thought then up to Anakin just behind her chair only to see he was already looking down at you, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re not going alone” he objected quickly “you and Ahsoka take the west I’ll take the east”

You physically recoiled at that, brows scrunching up back at him in confusion, not entirely sure where this was coming from all of a sudden “this is my mission, I was going to go alone anyways”

“And now we’re here” he shot back, making it a point to avoid your gaze as he watched Rex’s landing “so you didn’t have to be alone”

“Hold on I was fine with going alone you were the one-“

Ahsoka interrupted you as you started to get louder, pointing an accusatory finger in Anakin’s direction “I’ll take the west you two go together on the east”

“no” Yours and Anakin’s answer came quickly and in perfect unison, Ahsoka rolling her eyes in response as she crossed her arms over her chest, a posture that now perfectly mirrored both your’s and Anakin’s.

“Look based on the encampments shape the west side will be the less populated one so it makes sense that I take it alone and the two of you take the more difficult one” she tried to explain.

“If that’s the case than I-“ you were ramping up for your argument but watched as Anakin’s shoulders slumped slightly in response, not letting you get out another word before he was conceding with a simple ‘fine’.

As if you had never said anything you watched as Ahsoka grinned triumphantly up at her master, a gesture that just seemed to annoy him further though you still caught a small proud smile snaking its way to his features.

“Hold on-“ you tried to object again but Anakin was already exiting the cockpit, giving your shoulder a soft tap and squeeze as he did, leaving you frozen in space as you watched him go.

“What on earth just happened?” you asked the room earning a small giggle from Ahsoka in response “this was my mission did he really just come in and steamroll his way into making all the plans”

You watched Ahsoka and Rex share a look from their seats before answering in perfect unison “you get used to it”

You groaned softly at their response but couldn’t help but laugh softly at the situation, running a tired hand over your face “I just don’t get why he wouldn’t just let me go on my own, does he not trust me?”

“No he trusts you” Ahsoka tried to assure you quickly but you could already feel yourself spiraling.

“I mean I told him that I was nervous before we took off what if he thinks because of that I’m not capable”

“He speaks very highly of your abilities as a jedi” Ahsoka shook her head in response, stealing a glance at Rex as she did so “I know for a fact that he trusts you with his life”

At that you had to stop, your mind reeling for a second at the thought that Anakin could have spoke so highly about you to Ahsoka before, it wasn’t like he’d ever really been around you enough to know that. “I don’t-“

“Look” Ahsoka sighed with a slight chuckle, spinning around in her chair to face you “he likes you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe”

“But you’re his padawan” you pointed out in confusion “he likes you too and you get to go off on your own”

At this Ahsoka smirked slightly, turning back around to face the window “yeah but it’s different with me”

This only had you more confused “how is it-“

Before you could ask, however, Rex interrupted you “alright we’re here” in surprise you turned your gaze to the window to see that you had in fact landed, you too focused on your talk with Ahsoka and fight with Anakin to even register that fact. “Now you two get going let’s get out of here as quickly as possible”

You were uncomfortably aware of every part of his body that was touching yours, the way you could feel his chest rise and fall against yours with every breath, the way you really had no choice but to look at him.

“Come on I know you’re mad at me” his voice came out in a whisper, prompting you to turn your head up tentatively to look at him through your lashes only to see him already looking down at you, his hands pressed against the wall above your head trying to give you as much space as possible. “I’m sorry I ended up picking the worst spot to hide I didn’t know-“

You cut him off before he could go on any longer rambling “It’s not that”

He scrunched his eyebrows at you “then what is it?”

You shook your head slightly at his expression, casting your gaze back down, desperately wishing you were anywhere but here to have this conversation. Instead of just moving past it like you had hoped he would, however, Anakin stayed silent, his gaze firmly locked down on you, practically pulling the answer out of you.

“It’s this whole mission” You sighed, not missing the way Anakin seemed to only get more confused.

“This was my mission, a simple break in and grab the holocron” you tried to explain “then you ask to join with Ahsoka and I agree and all of a sudden you’re the one making the plans pushing me out of my own mission by delegating me to a less important part, telling me I need to have a partner and can’t go out on my own”

“that’s not-“ You cut him off again before he could deny it.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s my mission. That means you sit down and listen to my plans you don’t get to come in and tell me what I’m going to do and not do on my mission that’s not how this works” You paused for a quick breath, finally chancing a look back up at Anakin “You can’t demote me, not here not now”

His eyes bounced quickly back and forth between yours, concern evident on his face as he formulated his response, taking a moment before speaking “I’m just trying to protect you”

“I don’t need your protection” you countered with a small huff “I’m a fully trained Jedi knight I can handle myself, but I know you’ve regularly got Ahsoka doing more dangerous stuff than this so what about protecting her?”

“It’s different with her”

And there was that explanation again, that same cop out excuse that didn’t tell you anything. You could hope, tell yourself that you knew what it meant, but you didn’t, you needed to hear him say it.

“Why is It different?”

Anakin didn’t say anything to that, deep breaths echoing through his chest to your own as they rose and fell against one another, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own, quick trips down to your lips that you swore were only in your head. But at that point every time you had overthought your and Anakin’s relationship was whirling around in your head. Every time you looked up to see him already staring at you, every touch he seemed to go out of his way to make, every excuse he’s made to hang out with you or be close. It couldn’t be all in your head could it?

“Are you okay?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, surprising you slightly, your head backing up to softly bump the wall behind you.

Because in truth you weren’t, you could feel your heart crawling up into your throat, could feel every point of contact between the two of you now like electricity dancing over your skin, could feel the burning desire to just close the small gap between the two of you. But the code, always the code.

“I’m fine” You brushed him off, turning your gaze back to the ground, anywhere but his.

“Hey” He called out to you softly, fingers dropping from over your head down to your chin, pulling your gaze back up to his softly, his fingers dropping down to the side of your neck quickly, pressing softly into the skin. “Your heart is racing”

You could only feel it get faster after that comment, could feel the way your cheeks got hotter from beneath his worried gaze, brushing his fingers off you quickly “I’m fine”

“Is it the tight space?” He was whispering quickly now, already inching his head towards the grate trying to peak out.

“No I’m-“ you tried to object but he was already running off on his own tangent.

“If you need to get out of here we can try and sneak out” he was inching more towards the grate by the second, hands coming off the wall to try and pry it off.

You couldn’t let him leave yet, it was too early the two of you were bound to be caught, so you reached out, grabbing his face in both of your hands and pulling it down to meet your gaze “Anakin it’s not the tight space” you watched his brows bunch up in confusion again, letting the rest of your sentence spill out of you before you could think better of it “it’s you, it’s the way we’re pressed up against one another, the way you keep looking at me like that. It’s you, you make me nervous”

You could practically see his brain stutter, all his features relaxing for a moment as he processed what you said, the corners of his lips ticking up slightly as he did so “I make you nervous?”

“Yes” you breathed out, the panic within you forcing you to tack on more to the sentence “of course you do, you have a reputation of regularly jumping out of moving speeders and are actively trying to sneak out of our hiding spot before it’s time”

A smirk grew on his face at your words as he dipped his head closer to yours down at your eyes level, so close your noses were nearly touching, his hands planted firmly on either side of your head against the wall “but that’s not in the way that you meant it. Right?”

You watched the way his tongue darted out from between his lips, wetting his bottom one quickly, eyes snapping up to meet his again with a blush staining your cheeks a deep enough color you were sure he could see it even in the dim lighting. “Why is it different with Ahsoka?” You whispered the question so softly you weren’t entirely sure he could hear it.

But god help you he chuckled at it, his eyes twinkling softly as he inched forward even closer, “because I’m not in love with Ahsoka”

#anakin x reader #Anakin Skywalker #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin fic #anakin imagine #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars x you #star wars x reader

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 months

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8:47AM | Jung Wooyoung

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Request: From Anon for a drabble challenge I did on my old account.

Synopsis: Reader claims another one of her boyfriends shirts. Using prompt - Is that my shirt?

Warnings: Established relationship.

Word Count: 266

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Walking out of her bedroom, Y/N finds Wooyoung in the kitchen making breakfast. “Good morning,” she smiles wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning against his back.

“Good morning,” he replies, stretching his arm back behind him, hugging her the best he can as he fries the eggs.

She eventually lets him go and moves towards the coffee machine to make herself a cup of coffee after noticing his half empty cup beside the stove top. He looks over at her doing a double take noticing the shirt she’s wearing. And it’s not because she is only wearing some random shirt and underwear. It’s his shirt. His shirt he thought he had lost months ago while he and the guys were in another country.

Never did he think that his own girlfriend had stolen it. He should have known. When clothes went missing, it was usually because he left them at her home, or she “borrowed” them. “Is that my shirt?”

“This one?” she asks, doing a little pose and motions to the shirt. “It somehow got mixed in with my laundry, so I washed it and then forgot about it until last week. I was planning to give it back to you today.”

“But, decided to wear it instead?”

“It smells like you,” she says lifting the collar to smell it. The smell of his cologne that he wears every day is faint but still there.

“Keep it,” he tells her, with a soft smile and eyes filled with love.

“I plan on it,” she smiles and places a quick peck to his cheek.

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thedarlingdearestdead · 7 months

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Anakin the Mechanic:

Summary: Your ship had been badly damaged on your last mission and you were the one stuck fixing it. Anakin finds you looking lost and wants to help you... in more ways than one.

Warnings: Kissing, fluff, banter, pretty safe.

Word count: 1,630

It was a rare day off for you, a single moment in between the chaos as the Jedi council discussed you and your master’s next assignment. You were grateful for it. Though it was not exactly an opportunity for respite.

Your ship had been badly damaged in your last fire fight, you’d come back with a rocky descent filled with horrible noises and smoke, not a happy landing. Some of the big stuff you could understand, you got it patched up fairly easily, working all evening yesterday with a team of mechanics on the main hull. But this morning, upon trying to start it up, you found it was still having some sort of issue.

It was frustrating as you would much rather be training, or doing your research. Or pretty much be anywhere else doing anything else. The grease from the engine was gathered underneath your nails in a most unpleasant way, your hair gone frizzy from the smoke and heat, your head aching from the fumes.

You had been staring into one of the side panels for about 10 minutes now. Determined that it was these circuits that had been causing such trouble, part of you wanted to give up and just hit it with the screwdriver that you held in your hand, just so you’d know what, and where, the damage was.

You must have been glaring, face stony as you zoned out, very close to a small melt-down. You were very tired and this had to get done. That’s probably why when Anakin Skywalker came up behind you, you jumped, dropping your tool as he starts to laugh at you.

“That’s not funny, Anakin! I could have hurt myself!” You say as a response to his mirth.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so focused, I couldn’t help myself!” He settles down slightly, leaning casually against the ship. The ship groaned and something sparked up by his sleeve comically causing his to jump back in fright himself. “Force, what have you done to this?”

You shrug, “We got hit a few times trying to go into hyperspace.”

He steps back and surveys the fresh patch jobs, still not painted over, and he rubs his arm near where the spark had almost got him almost unconsciously, thinking. Then he takes in the piles scattering of tools, rags, and equipment, as well as your, probably very, bedraggled state.

You could feel his eyes on you, and you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Anakin had always been a bit of a wild card, unpredictable and impulsive. You had been assigned to work with him before, and four him to be such an overwhelming, distracting presence. There was always an energy around him, a sense of barely-contained chaos that made you nervous.

"So, what's the plan?" Anakin finally asked, squinting and trying to stay nice and diplomatic. Though you could tell by his fidgeting that he desperately wanted to start fixing your ship for you.

You sighed, wiping your hands on your already spoiled robes, trying to decide whether your pride and patience could accept. "I'm still trying to figure out what's wrong with the circuits. I think it's a power issue, but I can't seem to pinpoint the source."

Anakin nodded, his eyes scanning the ship once again, eyes moving straight towards the other end of it, and fixing on the anterior electric panel. “Well, do you want some help?” He was edging away from you, an eagerness growing in his eyes, “I can pop her open, take a look?” He had already reached his target and took your non-resistance as a yes.

You were annoyed that he headed towards the opposite side of the ship to where you had been working. It was a subtle way of telling you ‘you’re doing it completely wrong.’ Judging by your success throughout the day he was probably right and you could probably use the help. It was still irritating though.

You watched as Anakin expertly open the panel and began to examine the circuits. His fingers moved deftly over the wires and switches, awfully confident and easy. You couldn't help but appreciate the intense concentration on his face.

You leaned against the ship and watched him, grateful for his help, feeling a pang of affection for how content he looked. "How did you get so good at this?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Anakin shrugged, not looking up from his work. "I've had a lot of practice. My mom used to scavenge parts and I would help her fix things up. It was a good way to learn."

You nodded, impressed and slightly sad at the mention of his mother, you never knew yours. "You know, I never imagined I would have to fix my own ship when I became a Jedi," you commented, smiling wryly.

Anakin chuckled, finally looking up at you. "Technically you're not fixing your own ship." He closed the small door and stepped back. Ushering you backwards as he walks around the ship, entering it and leading you to the cockpit.

Anakin sits down in the pilot's seat and begins typing away at the control panel. "I can reroute power from the engines to the circuits, that should give us the boost we need to get this baby off the ground," he explains, his fingers moving over the controls with lightning speed.

Watching him was incredible. Anakin was so talented, so skilled at everything he did. You had seen him in combat, seen him take down entire armies with his lightsaber. And yet here he was, fixing a broken ship with the same level of intensity and focus.

He must have noticed your eyes. "What?" Anakin asked, glancing up at you from where he was working.

"I'm just impressed," you admitted. "You're so good at everything you do."

Anakin grinned at you, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You're not wrong." And with that he pressed a final button and the engine came to life. Not spluttering or sparking, not roaring or shaking as it had been when you tried.

You tried to ignore the cocky smile on his face, his obvious pleasure at your surprise and joy which came out of you in a small 'whoop!'. But it was difficult. It was easy to ignore Anakins shine when in battle, in meetings, or in a large vehicle hangar. But in this small space you felt blinded.

"Thank you, Anakin- really you saved the day, my day... I would have been here for hours staring at the wrong place and making an even bigger mess.

"Well, I couldn't stand to watch you destroy this ship. I had to come in and save her..." He stroked the control unit lovingly, mocking your attempts at mechanics.

"Hey I would have gotten it eventually!" You say indignantly.

"Yeah, you would've." He concedes. "But sometimes it's good to take a break from all the fighting, all the politics. Just work with your hands, fix something. It's therapeutic. I don't mind helping you, you just need to ask."

He was standing now, the two of you cramped behind the pilots seats, in the small dark alcove between them, and the cabin.

Anakin's words echoed in your mind, and you realised that he was right. Sometimes, it was good to take a break from the chaos of being a Jedi and just focus on something simple and tangible.

Anakin had a kind heart and a willingness to help others, even if it meant getting his hands dirty.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said.

You both leaned in at the same time, meeting in the middle for a gloriously light and gentle kiss.

As your lips met, you felt a spark ignite between you, a spark that had been building for a long time. And now, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, you felt a sense of rightness, a sense that this was where you were meant to be.

For a long moment, you lost yourself in the kiss, forgetting everything else except the feel of Anakin's lips against yours, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. It was like nothing else mattered except this moment, this connection between the two of you.

But as the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of urgency creeping in, unlike anything you'd felt before. A sense that this moment was fleeting and you needed to make the most of it. As Anakin's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the small of your back, you felt a shiver, curving into him, pushing him up against the doorway.

He smirked into your mouth. He cupped your face in his hands, running his fingers down your cheeks, tilting your face up into the kiss.

Before he pushed you backwards, not violent but rough, you hit the opposite wall and now he was the one to press you against the frame, his body pressed full against yours, as the kiss intensified. You felt a breath catch in your throat, as you pulled away briefly to take a moment, to look at him. Both of you panting for air, Anakin staring at you with those intense dark eyes.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he confesses. "I know we can't, not now, not with everything going on, the war, the constant missions, but I just wanted you to know... how I feel," he explained, his voice breathy.

There was no hesitation, no stopping to think about it. You just knew. You knew he was right, no matter what tomorrow or the next day might bring, you knew you couldn't ignore your feelings. And you couldn't ignore the way you felt right now.

"Just kiss me Anakin." You say, and he does.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin x reader #star wars fandom #star wars anakin #star wars prequels

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 24 days

Note

Hello lovely I hope this enough for a request but I was wondering if you would write a fic for Hunter x Jedi!Reader around season one. Hunter has the start of a crush on reader but once omega comes into the picture and he sees how good reader is with her he knows he needs to ask her out! Feel free to change whatever, I hope you like the idea!

I Will Protect You

Hunter x Reader

Summary- As a defective Jedi you are reassigned to The Bad Batch. How can you resist Hunter? Especially when he confesses after seeing how good you are with Omega.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I LOVED this idea! I've contemplated doing something similar in the past, so I am so glad you requested this!

Word Count- 1,679

You remember being assigned to Clone Force 99 like it was yesterday. The day you were considered a 'defective' Jedi. While you were skilled in the force and an expert in wielding a lightsaber- you got attached.

In a mission gone wrong, you sacrificed yourself for your Jedi master. She was entirely grateful. Even though you made a full recovery, the Empire was not happy. Claiming you shouldn't have those 'emotional tendencies.'

You understood the purpose of severing all relationships, trying to only be one with the force. Emotions just came naturally to you! Connecting with all kinds of people, acting motherly to the less fortunate, and trying to be there for all of the clones.

The final straw for The Empire was when you were caught holding a small ceremony for a few fallen Clones. A fellow Jedi, you once called brother, turned you in.

You were immediately reassigned to Clone Force 99- labeled 'Defective.'

That was the same day you met Hunter. The first thing you noticed was his face tattoo, how attractive it looked. The skull covering half his face tickled your curiosity. You never had the courage to ask him about it, the whole 'don't get attached or you'll get reassigned' circled your mind.

You quickly grew to love Force 99. They accepted you, treated you like a human being. Not just a force wielder, something you'd never had. Despite your vow and upbringing, you considered them all to be your family.

Just under a year had gone by when Order 66 went out. You noticed how protective Hunter could be. He fought off droids, clones, and anyone who tried to harm you.

Not many knew of your Jedi background, allowing you to go into somewhat of a stealth mode. You acquired new gear, matching your team's. With a helmet on around others- your identity and life were safe. Though, you and Crosshairs friendship wavered...

The weight of your life always being at steak rested on you heavily. You couldn't sleep anymore, having gone days with low or no rest..

"Hunter, can we talk?" You asked him in the cockpit.

"Of course, what happened?" He looked worried.

Tech, however, does not even look up from his position as pilot.

"Uh, Tech, can we have a moment?" You asked, feeling a little guilty for making him leave.

Now he does look up, pressing some kind of 'auto-pilot' button. "Sure."

Great, now you already felt awkward.

"Look, I think I should go.." You got straight to the point. It hurt too much to draw it out.

Hunter's face fell, he was not expecting that. Though, a little part of you appreciated he cared so much.

"W-what?" He stepped closer to you.

"I just, well I just think it's for the best..." You fiddled with your fingers. The force felt moody, like something was off.

"Did something happen? Did Crosshair say anything! I swear I-"

"No, no. Nothing like that I promise!" You took the last step separating you. You were inches apart now.

"Did I do something?" He whispered, knowing he couldn't forgive himself if he did.

"No, I don't think there's anything you could do to make me turn from you." You whispered back, like a secret.

"Then what?" He softly asked.

You looked at the floor, unwilling to face him now. "I can't be the reason you guys are attacked. The Empire is after all Jedi's. You are all at risk if I am here..."

He, with the lightest touch, listed your chin up with a finger. "That doesn't matter... You're safest with us. You can't leave. Damn if the rest of us are in danger, I don't care. We will protect you. I won't let anyone take you." His voice was husky, he meant every word.

You didn't know how to respond, you were awestruck. Your legs felt like jello. All of your training out the window. You hadn't a thought except for him. Everything was suddenly him.

You just nodded, leaning further into his touch. Almost in a trance. You desperately craved his lips on yours. Just an inch forward and they'd be yours. So close-

A beeping made you gasp and pull away. Tech storming back in to the cockpit, taking his respective seat.

"Sorry to interrupt. We are about to land on Kamino."

You panted still, the exchange leaving you flustered. He eyed you, searching for any kind of rejection from you. Neither of you spoke with Tech in the room, you just looked at him with your head in the sky. You were unbelievably happy.

Unfortunately, you and Hunter were yet to bring that moment up again. Things kind of went back to normal, as you all got increasingly busy. Losing Crosshair and gaining Omega was a stressful time, you didn't have a second alone with Hunter. Even if you did want it more than anything.

Luckily, you had a calling to Omega. She was the sweetest girl you'd ever met, her positivity was inspiring.

You spent a lot of time with her, bonding especially when there was down time in-between missions. You also picked up on Hunters defensive and protective nature with her. He was undeniably acting as a father would.

"Yes, bullseye!" You jumped up and gave Omega a high-five. She was getting better everyday with her energy bow.

She laughed and bounced giddily.

"Now, lets see if you can hit a moving object." You encouraged her.

The two of you were far enough from the city to be hidden. You moved a small cart and a few bricks with the force. It slowly moved back and forth. It was hard concealing the powers you learned as a Jedi, but you soon adapted. Using the force less frequently as time went on.

She took a deep breath, inhaling as she pulled the bow string back. Just as she let the arrow go, it went flying past the target.

"Aw." She was visibly upset, not realizing how different moving targets were.

"Hey, it's okay. You should have seen me trying to move an object for the first time. It took me days to even lift a pebble." You proved your point by lifting a nearby stone up. "I still struggle sometimes..." You purposefully dropped the piece.

"You're so cool... I wish I was a Jedi! Then I wouldn't have to learn how to use an Energy Bow. I could just use my mind!" She made silly gestures. Moving a hand out to pretend she was wielding the force.

You smiled at her, deciding to shield her from the horrors of your childhood.

"I think an Energy Bow is just as cool. If not cooler!" You assured her.

"If you think so." She grumbled out, but ready to pull the string back again.

You sighed. "I think that's enough practice for today. It's getting late, honey." The sky was getting dark.

She looked displeased, "Why don't you go find Wrecker and get some dinner?"

She brightened up at this. "I'll save some for you too!"

You watched her as a mother would, making sure she was by Wreckers side before turning away.

"I can feel you staring." You announced, cleaning up the mess you and Omega made while training.

Footsteps were now heard as Hunter revealed himself. "Sorry." He acted as if you caught him doing something bad.

"Oh, I don't mind. I know you're just trying to keep Omega safe. Care to help?" You asked, bending down to place the brick back where they were found.

He walks to you, crouching to help. "Not just Omega." He says, lifting a few bricks.

"Hmm?"

"You as well." This made you blush lightly.

"Thank you, you know you'd make a really good father, right? Omega really looks up to you." You proclaimed, making sure Hunter knew his worth.

He stiffened, the words hitting his heart. "If anything she looks up to you. You're so good with her. It's..." He seemed to have regretted his choice of yours, continuing with- "You just always know what to say and do."

"It's what?" You asked, not letting him change the subject.

With a sigh he starts, "It's one of the reasons I love you so much." Another shift in the force, your heart thumping loud.

You stood, turning to him. A sense of Deja Vu rushed over you. To that day on the ship, the moment that was never resolved.

"You do?" You asked. Love was a feeling you were never supposed to feel as a Jedi.

"Have I not been clear? I live and breathe you..."

A flutter rests in your stomach. A sharp thrill reaching lower.

You walk to him, chest almost touching. "I don't think we finished what we started in the cockpit..." He declared, voice deep.

You shook your head. "No, we didn't. Are you going to make that up to me?" You spoke smug, but knew you'd melt at his touch.

"Only if you'll allow me..." A hand brushed against your forearm, resting there.

"Yes, of course..." He leaned down, his other hand now cupping your face.

He stopped just before his lips touched yours. "There won't be any going back." He whispered.

You didn't speak, only pushing yourself flush to him. It forced your lips to meet.

It was clumsy, you'd never done anything like this before. The Jedi code was very strict. You wondered if he had been with anyone else in that moment.

All of a sudden insecure over something you've yearned for.

Your thoughts were crushed with is next words, "You're perfect. So, so perfect." You turned a new shade of red, deeper and deeper.

"Watching you with Omega... Made me realize." He stopped, opting to kiss you once again.

You complied. He wrapped a hand around your waist, bringing you as close as you could be. Your arms lifted around his neck.

You pulled your head back slightly to breathe, "And what is that?"

"That I should ask this beautiful woman out." He stated, looking for your response.

"You didn't even have to ask..."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this one, I hope you liked it!! It's like 1 am, so i'll come back and edit this when i'm not tired xD!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

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forever--darling · 3 months

Text

senator amidala

summary: while obi-wan lectures anakin over & over it seems, you find yourself unable to do anything but look more into your vision, & the story behind the stars. just when you feel as if you are getting some answers, forces shift at the addition of a new mission as well as someone from anakin's past.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 8.1k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, anakin skywalker x padmé amidala, angst, jealousy, the beginning of a long unforeseen slow burn

series masterlist | 04

“Are you going to say anything or just sit there looking at me like that?” Anakin asked, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall of the training room, unable to look away from the glowered look that had overtaken his Master’s face. “Master?”

Obi-Wan sat in a rolling chair, his legs stiffly stuck to the floor and a certain knot forming between his eyebrows, that frown of his peeking through his beard. He didn’t even move or react when Anakin huffed out annoyingly, glancing towards the door and the closed blinds. Obi-Wan found him to be acting like a child then as he refused to have patience, refused to sit there in silence, but almost needed to in every way defy even the sole look that was being sent his way.

Anakin raised his hands in the air, irritated by the impending silence; it not going to make a difference one way or another when his Master finally decided to open his mouth and scold him. It would be just as scornful either way, and the young Chosen One didn’t have it in himself to do anything else but keep talking, “It’s not like—”

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan snapped lifting his pointer finger in the young Jedi’s direction, “Don’t you try and lie to me right now.”

“I’m not. Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen.”

“Huh, so you’re just telling me you were laying on her for what?” Obi-Wan replied back, the sarcasm thick, so parent-like despite Anakin being an adult. “Of course, you don’t think of me as that stupid, Anakin.”

“I don’t, Master,” Anakin agreed, sighing slightly as he pushed off from the wall to approach his Master, “It’s just I did nothing to go against the code. I need you to know that, and I won’t.”

“How can I trust you?” Obi-Wan deflated, the statement alone causing Anakin to shift in fear, waning at the very thing he never thought he would hear, “I can’t look at the two of you together the same anymore. I’m aware you have a connection, one that is deemed stronger than I realized, but how can you assure me one hundred percent that it’s nothing more?”

“Nothing more…” Anakin’s words trailed off, the accusation something he hadn’t let cross his mind longer than it should. He couldn’t. He knew that. “It’s not. I can assure you.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, his elbows finding a place along his knees, that frown lessening as he took in the wide-eyed expression on Anakin’s face. The younger Jedi’s brows rose then, the words once again slipping to provide as much comfort to his Master as he could, “She hasn’t been sleeping, Master. It’s been this way for a few months now. I can’t help but know when something is bothering her. Neither of us understands it, but I can’t ignore it. I wanted to show her the younglings’ training room, that is all. Something to get her mind off of everything.”

“The trials, included?” Obi-Wan asked, recalling his conversation with you that day prior after having seen you and Anakin together.

“The trials?” Anakin’s brows furrowed for a moment, “Right, yes, the trials. She talked to you about them.”

“Yes, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. She won’t be ready. It would be nearly impossible.”

“Right, I suppose that’s true.”

There was a lull, a sudden shift in conversation towards you, what had been keeping you up for months, for all this time, but did either of them really know? Anakin felt as if your connection was stronger, and he was able to indulge in your feelings no matter when and where he was, even going as far as to be able to hear some of your thoughts, the way they scavenged for peace. He felt as if a piece of you had been broken off and given to him, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like there was more going on in that pretty head of yours. As if there was more to the dark circles under your eyes and the steady glances you sent his way throughout the day.

There was more, and yet he couldn't in any way try and explain it to Obi-Wan. Especially when no one, even your Master, wouldn’t be able to understand these strange feelings that plagued the both of you. It was different from mere senses or being a Jedi. He couldn’t, not without it sounding wrong, not without proving his Master right.

“And what about me?” Anakin found himself unable to ask.

“What about you?”

“The trials,” he corrected, having not talked about it with his Master in almost half a year, “I feel as if I’m ready.”

“Oh, my young apprentice, there is still much to learn in the upcoming months. More than you realize,” Obi-Wan smiled comfortingly, suddenly charmed slightly by the young Jedi’s ambitions.

“You don’t think I am ready, Master?” Anakin found a knot forming in his chest, one from frustration, for the second time in a matter of minutes. Obi-Wan had already professed to not just trusting Anakin with you, but what about the trials? What about his respectability as a Jedi?

“It’s not that, my Padawan. It’s that you are still very unpredictable. You have far less experience than most Padawans do when they compete in the trials. I have no doubt you can get there but in due time. Where there is less experience, you must make up with wisdom and caution.”

Anakin was angry and disappointed but, at most, worried. Had he been too crass, too big of himself to assume he would be in the trials that year? He thought not. He thought he had proved himself time and time again to Obi-Wan, especially when it came to you. He had protected you, ensured your comfort, and became someone, anyone you could at least have. He had done what any Jedi should when caring for someone on a mission.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled out sadly after a few lingering seconds, his eyes cast over at the Chosen One at the position he was put in, “What shall you have me do about this? The two of you?”

He had reverted the conversation away from the trials and back to the situation at hand.

“I wasn’t aware anything had to be done, Master.”

“I don’t want to but I can’t help but fear the consequences in the future if I do nothing.”

“Trust me, Master. There is nothing going on between me and her. You have my word,” Anakin replied, his eyes refusing to blink or look away from Obi-Wan, afraid of what he would do. Afraid that somehow you would be separated, or things would change. “I’m only trying to protect her.”

Another lull between them, a second where Anakin couldn’t do anything else but wait, analyzing his Master’s expressions. It was then Obi-Wan nodded, shoulders relaxing back within his seat, unwilling to really do anything else but accept what he was being told. The force favored the two of you together, Obi-Wan could feel that. Felt it not long after you were brought to the temple. You both were strong, wise, and sometimes oblivious, but you were better when together than apart. You challenged Anakin, kept the Chosen One in line, and were a companion more than anything else. Obi-Wan had no inclination to truly do more than warn the young Jedi.

“Alright then,” Obi-Wan said, backing down under the intense blue haze that was Anakin’s eyes. But he stopped him as the Padawan turned to leave, “Anakin?”

“Yes, Master?”

“Go find Y/N and bring her here, please. I want her present when we meet with the Senator.”

“The Senator?” he asked, brows furrowing as he stood frozen near the door, seeming unaware of the meeting himself.

“Yes, Senator Amidala will be here later this afternoon to meet with us. I want her there, got it?”

Anakin’s eyes widened, mouth parting softly unable to even answer his Master’s question. He was suddenly stuck, unable to get much further than the name that was uttered so professionally. Anakin felt his pulse speed up, and his stomach clenched in nerves.

Senator Amidala.

He had never thought the day would finally come. After ten years, it finally had.

“Padmé? She will be here in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Why? What does she require of us?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Obi-Wan sighed, able to hear the breathiness in the young man’s voice, his attention shifted entirely to the one he had never seemed to forget, “I am not sure, my apprentice, but we shall see. Alright, so go on.”

“Are you an angel?”

“What?”

“An angel. I’ve heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They live on the moons of lego, I think. They’re the most beautiful creatures in the universe.”

The air was stiff, the smell of the old archives enough to have you biting down on your lower lip. The basement of the public archives building was dusty and cold, cold for the amount of worn leather that sat in between the shelves. The shelves decorated with everything that hadn’t been recoded into holograms or online files. Your robes were loose around your frame, and you found yourself pulling them tight around your chest as the attendant led you through the maze of shelves.

He stops in a far corner and goes down a hall between two shelves; it is so slim you wouldn’t be able to walk with two people side by side. Near the middle of the shelf, he pointed up towards the upper two halves, “This is all that we have. These two top shelves should have everything you’re looking for.”

You nodded, eyes already scraping over the aging binds, reading the heathered titles with ease, heart in your throat.

Stars of L’âme

They were what led you to be sitting in a small corner of the public archives, at a desk hidden behind a few towering shelves, the desktop covered with a small stack of books, some thicker and older than you realized. It had been almost an hour, an hour of you flipping through pages, all while the words from your grandmother echoed within your head.

“Two lost souls. That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.”

“This sounds crazy,” you thought out loud as you read the descriptions of the particle examinations of the two stars as well as the whole ten pages that hypothesize how they were created outside of the stellar nurseries.

Flipping through another book next to it, you opened it to a random page to find a drawing peering back at you. One where it showed the stars as they were now, unaligned, one favoring the left and the other right. A second drawing mirrored the one next to it, but this one found the stars to almost be stacked upon one another, aligned to create two shining orbs. A small passage was found under the picture, and you realized as you read that this book took on a more mythical viewpoint of the stars.

One that sounded like a fable unable to fully be true and yet you found yourself leaning into every single word.

“The Stars of L’âme, having outlived centuries of people, have left the rest of us in mere darkness over the two stars regarding the possibilities and ideal scientific creations; more so how they only coalign every one hundred years. Whose its makers we can’t know, but one can be noted without reason or the ability to ignore — the physics and angling. As it is said and stated, only when the two souls it mirrors finally find one another, their hearts aligning is when the stars are found to finally shift. The previous separation of the stars follows the physical and emotional separation of the two souls prior to understanding the truth. Once both of the intended souls have passed onto the next life, the stars scatter again awaiting for their next love story within the following century.”

It sounded impossible, you couldn’t fathom the logistics as you chewed on your bottom lip, sure to leave it torn and bleeding. The rest of the world seemed to blur along the edges, the confines of reality shifting as you wished, almost pleading for your grandmother to appear — to deny this allegation altogether, to fully set all of your worries to rest. What about the stars did she want to tell you?

It all sounded like a fate that was sure to catch up with you.

Sighing, you pushed the book away, inhaling to ease the sudden anxiety that had formed, while you pulled another one from the stack. Skimming through the table of contents, you felt your fingers fumble over the names that were presented on the page. Immediately flipping to it, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, unable to ignore the picture printed within it of a couple, the last who claimed to have been the heirs of the Stars of L’âme. They seemed normal, full of admiration as they stared at one another.

Their birth years, you hummed in interest. It was exactly a hundred years before your own.

Your fingers traced over the young woman’s face, it seeming not much older than you were now. She was beautiful and, more than anything, beautifully in love. Peering down at the page, you took them in but felt your stomach fall slightly as you noticed it.

A set of matching scars along their forearms, just as long and thick, matching in every way from the pale coloring to the way it extended from their wrist to halfway across their forearms. Your brows raised in interest, beginning to read the passages that followed, throat tightened at the mere possibilities of what that could have meant.

You had only gotten halfway through the first page, which hadn’t revealed any new information or anything about the scars when you felt two hands take hold of your chair behind you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of their thumbs pressed along your shoulder blades and their looming form along your back.

“Hey.” The voice startled you, but you relaxed instantly at the familiarity paired with the softness of it.

Glancing up, you met those blue eyes of his, staring down at yours with piqued interest, that smirk of his forming as he took in how he had scared you. You must not have felt him approaching, both surprised by it and not knowing that when your mind was so occupied in anything else, you didn’t hear or feel anything that was close to you.

You smacked his hand slightly, heart rising and falling in surprise, “What are you doing?”

“Me?” he laughed, eyes flickering over the stacks of books spread along the desk, “What are you doing?”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you began to close the books around you, ignoring his question altogether, “Nothing I just—”

“Please, I could feel you deep in your thoughts from three miles away,” Anakin chuckled, leaning even more over your shoulder, his brows furrowing as he tried to catch sight of what you were reading about, his eyes finding the black and white picture of the couple staring back at him, “What has you thinking so fucking hard?”

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to close the book before he could take it but his hand smacked against the page of the book enough that it echoed in the small corner of the archives. His brows furrowed slightly down at you while his other hand firmly took a hold of your wrist to stop you from trying to take it.

“The Stars of L’âme,” he read outline, the foreign word a struggle upon his tongue, but he understood enough to peer back over you and your slumped frame, a sheepish look appearing across your face. “Y/N…”

Feeling his impending stare and the sudden speed of your pulse, you were ripping your hand out of his and taking the book from him. Closing it loudly, you shoved it to the other side of the desk with all the rest, some you hadn’t even gotten to yet.

“It’s nothing okay,” you urged but he could see right through you. It was the easiest thing.

“Right, nothing. It’s not like, it has you sneaking off here in the middle of the day. It’s about your vision, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning down further, his arm hanging off your shoulder, the small touch feeling like too much at that moment.

“We don’t know if it was vision,” you argued, but at the sudden curl of his lips, it was clear he didn’t believe it to be anything other than that.

“Well, you could have told me, you know. I could’ve helped,” he offered carefully, with no sarcasm or teasing tone in sight. It had your heart softening, your embarrassment fading enough that you were sure your resolve would follow.

You were scared, though. Scared of what you would find out. Scared that this strange connection with him had something to do with this. You were just scared, period.

“No, you couldn’t have,” you replied, the tone and your words stinging him slightly evident in the slight cringe that appeared on his face.

He ignored it. “Well, did you find anything?”

“No, not anything useful.”

Before he could say anything else, his eyes just searching yours, you found yourself picking at your nails, a sense of nervousness forming. “What are you doing here?”

“Obi-Wan sent me to find you,” he said, not missing a single beat.

You straightened up, “What?”

“It’s fine,” he noticed the panic right away, enough that his hand slipped to your shoulder with ease, his torso somehow pressed along your back enough that you relaxed, “We just have to get back. Senator Amidala will be arriving soon.”

“A Senator?”

Even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the sudden pause that appeared as Anakin said her name. Like he had to prepare how to exactly say it. The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, and it caused your stomach to twist slightly, a sick feeling appearing at the implications of what that could mean. Not quite understanding it.

“Yeah, she has requested a meeting with us for some reason. Master just wants us back to prepare for her arrival.”

You wanted to ask more, deter from this task at hand, and put your attention back into the books, but you knew you couldn’t. Not then. Not with him there. Not when you both possibly had been assigned to something by the council. It was the only reason that came to mind that you were meeting with this Senator. It filled you with dread, a sudden uneasiness forming at the responsibility that could possibly linger.

There was nothing else to do though but nod and stand from the small desk. With one stack of books in your hands and the other in Anakin’s you returned them to the attendant, thanking him, before following Anakin out of the public archives. His eyes followed yours for a brief moment before he lead you further into the city towards the temple.

His attention drifted, you felt it first. In your chest, the way that string between you seemed to wane slightly while he stared forward, voice silent. A furrowed expression played along his features, one that had you mesmerized, able to feel the weight of his deep thoughts but without the implications of them. Still a few blocks from the temple, you couldn’t help but ask.

“What is it?”

Your voice, almost like a solace, pulled his eyes to you, a mere hum emitting from his pink lips.

“I can see your brain turning over there. Can practically feel it suffocating me as well, so what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, the same words you had said to him before in the pubic archives hitting you hard.

“Ani…”

“I’m just wondering why they require us, is all? What the council wants from us?” he explained, but you couldn’t believe him.

Not when a sudden thickness seemed to appear in your chest from the mere effect on him upon even mentioning the Senator’s name. A devastation that seemed to only weigh heavier on you the longer you sat in silence, it only being confirmed as you stood in the elevator of Senator Amidala’s building, leading you, Anakin, and Master Kenobi up to her penthouse.

Her name was one you had heard of; it was hard not to when you previously had a life involved within government, often needing to interact with the Senate, yet you couldn’t place her face with the name. You hadn’t met, that you were sure of, and yet the sudden thought of doing so left you afraid. Afraid as silence loomed with Anakin’s foot tapping unsteadily and his breath uneasy.

You turned to look at him as he began to brush his hands along his robes, smoothing out any wrinkles. Obi-Wan noticed it, too, and met your stare with a certain smile you couldn’t place. As if he knew something you didn’t or rather found amusement from the Padawan’s actions.

“You seem a little on edge,” Obi-Wan said then, gaining Anakin’s nervous attention.

“Not at all,” Anakin denied, his eyes somehow flickering to yours, able to feel you staring at him.

“I haven’t felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of Gundarks.”

“You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you, remember?” He was smug about it, but only slightly.

“Oh, yes.”

You found yourself subtly bumping your arm with Anakin's, while Master didn’t react as you imagined he would. Instead, a deep-setted laugh appeared one that caused Anakin to start laughing as well, even as his blue eyes flickered over to your form, still leaning close to him.

Shaking his head at his Master, Obi-Wan set his sights back on the Padawan, barely even acknowledging your close presence. “You’re sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Obi-Wan watched the subtle interaction that occurred then. The way your face furrowed in confusion, almost a slight worry pulling your lips into a fine line, and a hesitancy on Anakin’s part. His head tilted slightly in your direction, and you found his blue orbs looking at you from the corner of his eye before replying.

“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master,” he admitted, exhaling slowly, his nerves so palpable then.

A small smile appeared on Obi-Wan’s face, and you couldn’t come to understand it, the slight amusement that appeared over Anakin’s nervousness. You couldn’t, not as your own reaction was barely hideable. You turned to face the elevator doors in front of you, feeling suddenly inclined to take a step away from Anakin, enough that your arm was no longer brushing his.

A thought that you couldn’t ignore even when the three of you stepped off the elevator to greet a Junior Representative who went by Jar Jar. The tall lanky creature bypassed your attention rather quickly as you couldn’t help but keep sending glances over to Anakin.

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you cared so much. What about this Senator could have you so uncomfortable? Threatened over what? Your time with Anakin.

What good would it do anymore?

Surely Master Obi-Wan would do something to come between the two of you to ensure his spot on the council stays and, in his mind, keep the two of you from violating the code.

Your feet dragged slightly across the floor, even as Jar Jar led you away from the elevator into another room of the penthouse, revealing a few figures standing off by the windows. You inhaled slowly to find one of them turn, and a smile appeared across her face. She had to have been the Senator, and it brought a certain nervous twitch in your fingers.

She was young. Young and beautiful and elegant. Everything that a representative was supposed to be. Everything that a queen was supposed to be; in her long dress, decorated in glitter and the finest materials with her hair pulled back out of her face, drawing attention to her soft features. Hiding slightly behind Anakin, body turned away from him, you watched as Obi-Wan bowed to greet her. “Pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“It’s been far too long, Master Kenobi,” she greeted back, her voice mature, sounding professional, and as if it was going to hold Anakin’s attention forever. It seemed he had gotten hers, too, as she looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a curious smile forming at the sight before her, “Ani?”

The mere shortened version of his name curling from her tongue so effortlessly brought another wave of shock through you, one that stung far worse than you realized. Even as it sounded so casual, so perfect, that he had to step forward a shy smile of his own forming unable to keep his eyes from taking her in.

“My goodness you’ve grown.”

“So have you. Grown more beautiful, I mean,” he admitted, it slipping enough to have everyone’s eyes on him, “Well, for a Senator, I mean.”

He chuckled awkwardly, trying to rid the surprised look of awe that appeared on his face. She smiled back one bashful as they both noted the way Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder to you in slight understanding. One you hadn’t known for sure until then. That, in fact, this Senator, Senator Amidala, knew Anakin, and he very much knew her.

“Huh Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew in Tatooine.”

His expression faltered; you saw it in the way his shoulders dropped, his smile faltering at her subtly shutting down his advances. Quickly, a mere blip as she then noticed you, too, lingering back behind the taller man, fingers folded together. She looked at the robes, the tight-fitting navy ones that appeared somehow pretty on you, and the way your hair was pulled tightly out of your face, revealing a complexion that seemed so clear.

Her dark brow arched in curiosity, finding you already looking at her, “I’m afraid we haven’t ever met.”

Sighing, you stepped forward, already able to feel both expectant looks from the two of me in front of you. Obi-Wan, taking hold of your forearm, gently brought you closer, enough that you were standing in between him and Anakin, suddenly feeling trapped and under the watchful gaze of the Senator.

Her eyes glanced from Anakin to you, the way his attention suddenly seemed to be on your profile, trying to take in everything about your expression.

“This is my second Padawan—”

“Second?” Padmé chuckled in surprise, “You have two now? I wasn’t sure if that was even allowed.”

“There are exceptions. The Council granted me this one ask.”

Her smile widened then, eyes never leaving yours as she spoke, “Lucky Ani. I’m sure the extra challenge benefits him.”

It was then she stepped closer, offering an outstretched hand to you. With a second of hesitation, you met her advance, slipping your own hand in hers for her to shake.

“Senator Padmé Amidala.”

You nodded, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

At the sound of your name, it seeming so long since it was even pronounced out loud together, her hand stopped, the shaking ceasing while a curious look now filling her eyes, one of recognition slightly. “Y/L/N?”

“Yes?”

“Hm, that’s a familiar name, one I feel is common. Have we, by chance, met before?” she observed, eyes glancing to the two men on the other side of you. Anakin’s hands tightened, a furrow appearing between his brows as he looked between her and you. His jaw ticked as he met the Senator’s gaze.

It was then, the Padawan stepped forward, blocking you slightly from her and her questions. His body broke your hand from hers, and you couldn’t help but questionably share a look with your Master as Anakin interrupted, “We should sit down, my lady. Talk about why we’re really here.”

You looked expectantly from Anakin over to Obi-Wan to find another wave of confusion pass over his features. But no one dared to say anything against the Chosen One and entered the living room. Sitting across from the Senator, you somehow once again were sat between the two men. They both leaned in, attention put fully on Padmé, and though you should have been doing the same, a discomfort had formed in your chest. So much so that your mind seemed to drift elsewhere, to the Padawan sat next to you more so.

Why had he not told you he had known Senator Amidala? What could have been within their past that he hadn’t or wished not to? There was something he wasn’t telling you clearly by the way Obi-Wan had been alluding to his nerves in the elevator. Even when you had asked him earlier, before arriving, what had been on his mind, he had brushed you off. Something he hadn’t done in months, not since before you two had come to terms with what it meant being Padawans alongside one another. Even as you could feel the gentleness of his pulse quickening while his eyes doted on her, he still tried to hide it from you.

“I don’t need more security. I need answers. I want to know who is trying to kill me.”

“We’re here to protect you, Senator,” Obi-Wan assured, “Not to start an investigation.”

You found yourself lulling away, not able to pay attention until Anakin spoke up from beside you with such a conviction that it had you staring at him, jaw tense. “We will find out who is trying to kill you, Padmé. I promise you.”

You felt Obi-Wan peering past you at Anakin, taken aback himself but the sudden response that was pulled so freely from the young man without even a simple thought. “We will not exceed our mandate, my young Padawan learner.”

Anakin ignored the looks the both of you were giving him, instead finding much of his focus back on the beautiful Senator, “I meant it in the interest of protecting her, Master. Of course.”

“We will not go through this exercise again, Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded; it was enough to have both you and the Senator following the small squealing match between the two men, “And you will pay attention to my lead.”

“Why? Why else do you think we were assigned to her if not to find the killer. Protection is a job for local security, not Jedi. It’s overkill, Master. Investigation is implied in our mandate,” he challenged, and you couldn’t stop yourself then but to reach over and pinch his arm through his robes. He stiffened under your sudden touch, a frown appearing across his lips as he hissed, “Ow. What?”

You sent him a warning look, brows furrowed slightly as you sensed the frustrations and slight embarrassment at the reality of Anakin defying Obi-Wan in front of others, especially Senator Amidala. He was trying to be prideful, show off his wisdom and bravery in turn to holding her attention.

“We will do exactly as the council has instructed,” Obi-Wan stated.

Anakin looked away from you at the sight of your soft glare to find the eyes of your Master. Silence filled the room then, a waiting game of who would back down first.

“And you will learn your place young one.”

There was another pause, a moment where Anakin’s lip folded into itself into a small pout, his head bowing slightly under the intense gaze of Obi-Wan. Your Master took a second to exhale, letting the frustrations fade as he turned back to face the Senator, her eyes still glancing between the two men.

“Perhaps with merely your presence, the mystery surrounding this threat will be revealed,” she said, breaking the tensions slightly, but you found yourself stiffening at the sight of her soft gaze meeting Anakin’s sunken form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will retire.”

The Senator stood with her Representatives following, as well as Obi-Wan, who bowed in a sign of respect. You felt frozen, though, feet glued to the ground even as Anakin had stood too. You felt your Master’s eyes on you then, a gentle glare settling along the side of your face, but you could only stare forward, up at the Senator, stomach clenched, a dread looming over your head. One that had begun as soon as Anakin had even said her name in the public archives. Senator Amidala.

Knowing how disrespectful you were being, you stood, hands folded gently behind your back. She took you in once more, a curious glint forming, and before you had even realized, she was smiling softly, “Actually, before I do. Y/N, is it? May I speak with you for a minute? I believe I owe you the honor of becoming more acquainted.”

The air had been sucked from your lungs. That’s what you believed as you stood with your mouth becoming dryer by the second as all eyes in the room found you, your frame taller than the Senator and yet seeming suddenly afraid. It wasn’t that you were afraid of her, or her status. You were supposed to be the next queen of Bakura, there was no one who could intimidate you by their power alone. No, the truth was you were afraid of her because of Anakin, because of how he had blatantly felt about her, always had it seemed.

Obi-Wan was staring at you expectantly, and you knew that you couldn’t deny the Senator of this request, especially considering you were as much her protector as the rest of them. But you were hesitant, it only deepening as you felt a warm palm suddenly pressed along your lower back. Even though your thick robes, the touch was so much, almost making your skin vibrate at its sudden appearance.

Glancing up at Anakin, his towering frame too became way too much, his blue eyes set on yours suddenly, almost like it had been the first time since you both had entered the room with the Senator. He was hesitant to let you go, something you didn’t understand then because how could you?

Offering him a gentle nod, you smiled towards the Senator, who had silently been watching the interaction, curious, it seemed, by the intentions behind Anakin’s lingering touch. You wouldn’t grant her any more time to think about it as you gestured towards the door for her to lead the way. She seemed pleased, and as you followed her out of the sitting room, you could feel the Chosen One’s intense gaze stained across your back the whole entire walk out of the room.

“He’s protective,” she said then, as soon as you had rounded the corner into a nearby hall, away from everyone else.

Her observation had you almost tripping over your feet, as well as over the possibility that she had only asked to speak to you to talk about Anakin. It made your blood settle, an inkling of nerves appearing in your chest of how this all would go.

Something in you told you, it would all fall apart. Maybe not now, or tomorrow, but eventually and you would be the one left crumbled away in the dust.

You tried to smile, but you found it more so resembled a cringe, “Yes, he is. Though at times he doesn’t need to be.”

She hummed then as if it was something she could relate to and understand completely. “He only means well. Has been told his whole life of those he must protect, of his responsibilities presented from the prophecy.”

“Yes, but I must say it can be too much. It feels as if he is undermining me in front of you Senator, but I guess he can’t quite help it.”

Her dark brow arched then, interest piquing as your admission slipped. Noticing the way she waited, waited for you to explain, you felt your face fall, cheeks heating up at what you had done. It was something you knew Anakin wished people didn’t know about. Who you were before you arrived at the temple and became a Padawan in training. He worried about what could happen if people knew, knew that the princess of Bakura was alive. Yet, you couldn’t help but reveal it all to her, the woman who held his attention so easily just from her presence alone. She wouldn’t ever have to speak, and you knew Anakin wouldn’t care — just to stare at her all day would be a privilege in his eyes.

“Y/L/N,” she said it as almost a mere whisper, as if she was trying to place it, the familiarity, the essence behind the name. A name that once filled you with so much power. “I know it from somewhere. I know I do. I suppose there is a reason, isn’t there? Why did Anakin stop me from asking before? Why he is so protective?”

“Senator, you have to understand, I wasn’t always a Jedi. I only became Master Kenobi’s Padawan some time ago,” you exhaled then, knowing there was no way around it, not if she would be there everyday intervening in every interaction, in every sole moment you once had with him to yourself, “My father sent Obi-Wan and Anakin to me under dire circumstances.”

“Y/L/N,” she repeated it slowly, almost afraid to say it out loud, but as she heard it, the sound of it coming from her own tongue, her eyes widened in realization. “Your father, Y/F/N Y/L/N, the king of Bakura.”

“You understand then? Why. He is protective, Senator, but merely out of obligation." You, unable to stop yourself from letting the truth spill over and over, said it so casually as if to put more distance between you and Anakin, an explanation for his affection.

“I can see why you would see it that way, but you have to know for Ani, it is never out of obligation,” she explained softly, her expression unreadable as she spoke of him, “Though it’s been years since we parted, I know that he doesn’t take the weight of it on thoughtlessly. He is very passionate; he doesn’t act unless it is in accordance with his heart. And for what it’s worth, I offer my deepest condolences, your highness.”

You sighed, only able to offer a sad smile, chest clenching at the title, one you only heard now when Anakin wished to tease you, sure to bring a smile to your face. It sounded so wrong then coming from her, far too formal for a person you only shared a resemblance to. You weren’t her anymore, the princess, the future queen. You felt as if it was a life you hadn’t even lived.

“A princess turned Jedi,” she chuckled, somehow it never once sounded cruel. It couldn’t, you knew that, even with Anakin swooning over the sight of her, the sudden twang that appeared within your chest, nothing she ever did could be done out of cruelty. “That’s a very powerful thing. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me, you haven’t accepted that yet.”

You couldn’t accept anything she was saying to you, your mind drifting rather to the loud feelings one room away, the way they were hurt like a puppy that had just been kicked — somehow losing all respectability because of one woman.

“Well, I will leave you,” she offered then, noting the frown across your face, “I shall retire for the night, but just know, I am glad Master Kenobi and Ani were able to promise your protection as well as they will mine.”

With one last smile, one just as radiant as all the rest, you watched her retreat further into the hall towards the elevator. As soon as her presence was gone, you exhaled, no relief felt at the sudden challenge that this mission had brought. It seemed it all would be different then, even down to the pull you felt in your chest when it came to Anakin Skywalker.

Perhaps Obi-Wan had been right.

Perhaps the stars were right, too, about something you couldn’t quite explain for any other reason.

Yet you knew it couldn’t be, not even if you were to outlive the pain that surely would succumb to you if it were true.

Evident enough, as you stepped back into the room, Obi-Wan’s frame retreated with one of the Senator’s security and Anakin still where you had left him, in the middle of the room, that worried expression still present on his face. You approached slowly, his back turned to you, leaving nothing but the small ponytail and the swallowing robes to be remembered in your mind for that moment. An urgency was evident in his frame, something you could feel and sense even before you had heard his voice, even before you had heard what he said.

The very thing you hadn’t expected or wished to ever hear again.

“I’ve thought about her every day since we’ve parted, and she’s forgotten me completely.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. You felt confined to that one spot, even as the bustle continued around you. As people filtered in and out of the room, you couldn’t fucking move. You thought you would’ve been fine. Come nightfall, come the time when the lights within the large penthouse were dimmed, nothing but a few lamps allowing the city to really glow and the stars to be vibrant. Yet as you sat there, knees hugged closely to your chest, it still felt different, suddenly everything did. In a matter of one day, the mere act of staring up at the sky could no longer provide comfort. Especially as a certain dullness seemed to ignite within your chest that hadn’t been there before.

“Master has gone to check the perimeter. The corridors are clear, too. How are things up here?”

His voice was too much for you, somehow pulling you from the depths of your mind. You didn’t look away from the window. You wouldn’t, not even as his footsteps echoed along the floor, his frame so close then and towering over you. He was warm and always had been far too inviting for you. It was annoying.

“Hey,” he spoke again, but you found yourself still unwilling to turn to speak, to give in. He huffed then in frustration, your silence something he never liked to hear. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t take it, not if it were true. It had been one hundred years since the stars had last aligned, chosen a couple to use, to live through. Anakin was too much, too enticing, too beautiful, too powerful. He had control over you, the way you felt, what you thought about. It was dangerous.

“It’s fine for you to do this in the temple. Ignore me, but here? We’re on a mission, on orders by the council itself. To ensure Padmé’s protection, you can’t do this. Not here,” he scolded, his tone suddenly hardening.

It seemed he had become short with you enough that you hadn’t even noticed the gentle flick of his wrist, but you felt it as soon as it happened. The unseen force of your face being turned towards him, harsher than you thought it would be. Forced to look at him, you glared, hating the way he used the force on you. His blue eyes stared down at you, tracing the etchings of your expression, the way it was anything but soft. His hand hung at his side, fingers outstretched, but they relaxed upon realizing how you felt, able to match it with the sudden pull in his chest.

“She is fine,” you finally said, the words cold upon your tongue.

His jaw tensed, “You’re upset with me.”

“I’m not,” you rebutted, “I just wish you wouldn’t handle me like that.”

“What do you mean?” He said, jaw loosening slightly to let a smile appear; it was small, almost appearing like a smirk. His annoyance faded to be replaced by something else, and you couldn’t deny that his playfulness only made you angrier.

“Stop it. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he chuckled amusingly.

You stood then, feeling the confines start to bend, melting at the will that was his pretty eyes and bashful smile. Your frustrations were no match for Anakin Skywalker, especially when he looked at you like that.

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you professed, reaching out to shove him back lightly, but his hands took hold of both your wrists, stopping the movement short. Suddenly, you felt trapped; the warmth of his fingertips on your skin was the only thing you could focus on.

“Why?” he asked, a single brow raising with interest, “What did I do?”

You shoved it all down then; the need to lean into his touch, to relax under his gaze, all of it, though it seemed the stars were in favor of such an action. Unless was this how it had always felt for everyone? This act of feeling completely under someone else’s control, as if the weight of the heart could defy any other human emotion.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Senator Amidala?” You ripped your hands free from his.

“Really?” he asked, almost surprised that out of everything, it could be that, “That’s what you're upset about? That I hadn’t told you about Padmé?”

“Yes, you acted as if she were just any other Senator. That this mission isn’t any different.”

“It’s not,” he replied, quicker than you thought he would.

“Anakin, don’t do that. Don’t lie,” you sighed, shoulders deflating, all of your confidence leaving you, as well as the warmth that seemed to once appear in your chest at being able to sense what he felt, “You are quite fond of her.”

That teasing on his end was gone then, his expression rigid, breath uneven under your eyes. He glanced around the room quickly, frustration forming again, one that appeared so much like it had earlier when he was arguing with Obi-Wan. Except this time, it was being directed towards you. “And so what if I am? What, you’re going to go and tell Master about this?”

You shook your head, trying to hold it all together, trying to be so strong to block him out at that moment, to keep him from being able to feel just how much it had hurt you. You couldn’t even lie to yourself about it; it had pained you to hear the simple admission. “I don’t have to tell him anything, Anakin. It is quite obvious how you feel.”

“Which is what?” he demanded from you, voice low but cold, “You and I both know the truth that is our fate. Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden, so even if I did feel whatever it is that I do, nothing could ever happen.”

That furrow in his brow had reappeared as he scowled down at you. Suddenly, so much anger was apparent. You could feel it — in the way goosebumps arose on your skin, and your pulse seemed to match his. The way it had sped up. The vein in the side of his neck was erect as he glared once again, no longer just angry about the Senator’s wishes to not engage in his advances but the rules that had confined his life.

“But then there’s compassion,” you whispered, the words almost coming out as a mumble.

His face twitched at your words, almost as if it could soothe and fix everything. The anger melted away, and you were met with the innocence that still filled his blue eyes. “Compassion?”

“It’s essential to a Jedi’s life. Compassion, which could be defined as unconditional love. In some ways, some might say, we are encouraged to love.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #Star Wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #anakin series #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #divider by cafekitsune #banner by cafekitsune

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bsxcrxts · 10 months

Text

comfort

Luke Skywalker x fem!reader

MINORS DNI. AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT WITH MY WORKS.

word count: 5.4k longest oneshot I've ever written whoops

Contains: Luke being sad and hurt, mentions of blood and bruising (not in detail), reunion between reader and Luke post-Dagobah training and Cloud City duel, angst just due to the whole situation in general, a whole lot of tension, blowjobs, inappropriate use of the force, unprotected sex (don't do this irl unless you want a baby idk what to say), somewhat subby/needy Luke, he's pathetic. a wet cat of a man in this and I love him

A/N : This is self-indulgent, soft, nasty, and probably poorly researched. Reader's not a nurse or a doctor, just a concerned gal with a crush, and Star Wars medicine is made up anyway. I have no idea why she's on the Falcon at this point but fuck it, we ball!

You find yourself trailing after Luke in an effort to get him to rest; whatever the hell he just went through in Cloud City initially had him almost feverish, tossing around on the cot in your little makeshift medbay and muttering about things you didn't understand, things about Ben and lies and Vader. But when he sensed the latter, he shot out of bed and right back into the cockpit of the Falcon, open wounds be damned, apparently.

He just doesn't quit, you thought to yourself, momentarily enamored with his strength and somewhat miffed he's left, but then your stomach sank as you also realize you don't even know how bad the rest of his injuries even are.

You and Leia had managed to fit him with the stabilizer on his right arm before she had to excuse herself to help navigate the Falcon away from the Imperial Fleet, and you didn't get much further on assessing Luke before he snapped out of whatever fervor he'd been in and followed her. You didn't run after him, too busy trying to scour the pitiful excuse of a medkit on the Falcon for more supplies and knowing it would be a lost cause anyway– he can be incredibly headstrong when it comes to helping his friends. But you've made the jump to hyperspace now, you've felt the engines shift. It should be safe, and you're pretty sure he should really, really rest.

Creeping into the cockpit of the Falcon, you see Luke slumped in one of the second-row seats, clutching a blanket around himself. He's not speaking in hushed tones to himself anymore, but in the blue light of hyperspace, his eyes look so tired. You lay a gentle hand on his shoulder.

It's not the first time you've touched him in months, but it feels like it is– you had cradled him in your arms for a moment when Leia ushered him into the room for the first time a half an hour ago, but Luke wasn't focused then, and he definitely wasn't well enough to hold conversation with you. And the last time you saw him before today was many moons ago, before he left to become a Jedi.

Luke's face snaps up to yours. Your hand is warm and welcoming on his arm, and he wants more than anything to lean into your touch, but he still feels uneasy, like he's unsure if that would be okay with you, for some reason. The recent revelations about his parentage have left him uncomfortable with himself, even if you don't know yet. If you'll ever know.

Meanwhile, your eyes rake over his features. His lip is split and he has a gash and an impact mark across his cheekbone just under his left eye. The reunion between the two of you is soured by defeat and injury, but despite yourself, when he gazes up at you, part of you insists he looks good. Really good. You linger too long on the cut on his mouth before you force yourself to snap out of it.

"Hey," you whisper. For some reason, you're embarrassed. You haven't spoken to him in a long time.

Luke has the audacity to crack a tiny smile up at you from where he's sitting, just for a moment. He breathes out your name and leans his head against your side where you're standing next to him.

"I have a headache," he says, more like he's thinking out loud than anything. It's an excuse he's made for himself to lay against you even for the briefest time, but it's also true. His head pounds.

Luke pulls away and lifts his face back up to look at you again. There's an emotion that you've never seen before behind his eyes. "Sorry," he says quietly, like it's an afterthought. Only he seems to know why he's apologizing.

"You should go lay down again. I-I can help you with the rest of your injuries and you can rest," you say.

"You’re right," Luke sighs, and stands up shakily. He doesn't stumble, but you put a steadying hand on his back anyway, just to remind him that you're there.

The short walk back to his cot is silent. It's awkward. You know you shouldn't ask about what happened, that Luke will tell you when he's ready, but you don't know what else to say, so you say nothing.

When you do start speaking, your words just sort of tumble out. You're talking to fill the space. Luke has never been this quiet before.

"Here," you gesture, "sit on the edge of the bed. I know I said you could lay down, but I'm worried you're concussed, so maybe you shouldn't fall asleep. You said you have a headache. Do you think you have a concussion?" you ask, as if he'd know.

For his part, Luke just shakes his head at you. "I'll be alright," he insists. He doesn't know if he believes it, but he can't think of anything else to tell you to make you feel better.

Right, you think. Stubborn. Luke occasionally has a sense of over-confidence about himself, you've seen it when he talks about piloting or whatnot, and he's never been wrong about his limits, just cocky, but this time it seems almost put-on, like a show. You let it slide.

"I know," you say, and softly smile at him. When he halfheartedly returns your smile, it pulls on the cut on his lip, and you remember why you're here.

You retrieve a wet cloth and start dabbing at the sticky, tacky blood decorating his face. You take his chin in your other hand, and Luke closes his eyes while you wipe at the near-dried blood. His eyebrows knit when you get too close to a bruise, but he doesn't outwardly complain, and you move on swiftly.

Your heart is beating far too quickly given Luke's condition. He is seriously injured, and clearly went through something not only physically horrible but also mentally taxing back in Cloud City, but he's gorgeous right now.

The way his hair is parted and tousled reminds you of what he's looked like in the past, under much more pleasant circumstances. You don't know what you are to Luke; you have an absolute raging crush on him and he obviously likes you too, but he leaves to go off on his own. A lot. The two of you never talk about it. If you acted on your arousal, it actually wouldn't be the first time you'd have slept with him after he narrowly escaped death, but this feels... different.

Luke breathes out a little sigh as you glide the cloth across his cheekbone. Your stomach ties itself in knots, and you freeze.

He notices that you've paused your ministrations and opens his eyes, looking up at you expectantly. His eyes are the clearest you've seen from him today, and just as blue as always. You panic a bit, hoping he can't perceive your inappropriately-timed desire.

"I need to grab some bacta," you mutter, and remove your hand from his chin.

This time when you return, he keeps his eyes open.

Luke can sense something from you, but he isn't sure what. His relationship with the Force isn't in the best shape, but he knows you've been thinking very hard about something and he's almost afraid to find out what.

“You must be sick of taking care of me," Luke ventures as you carefully apply the bacta gel to a cut on his forehead. "Ever since you got to know me, I just keep getting hurt.”

He says it in that tone he uses when he's making a dry joke that isn't a joke at all.

“Hey, I’ll always help clean you up," you reassure.

"At least both sides of my face will be even now," he continues, referring to the scarring on his left side from the Wampa attack earlier that year.

"You look– you look good," you stutter out, finding yourself shy again. Luke doesn't even take the compliment before he keeps going.

“You’re not put-off?”

“By what?”

It's quiet. Luke doesn't answer. You realize he's talking about the fact he lost his hand in the battle. You sink down to sit next to him, forgotten bacta pack dropped to the floor.

"Luke, no, I don't think–"

“He said some things about me…" Luke trails off, and you know the unnamed he in that sentence means Vader. "I’m worried I’ll turn out like him. That I’ll fall to the dark side. But I can’t stand by and do nothing, I can’t,” he insists, passionate.

“You’re not like him."

Luke looks down at his feet, unconvinced.

You lean over and kiss his cheek, meaning to comfort him, watching a blush spread over his features.

"You're not him, okay?" you reaffirm, face feeling heated. Your hands slide over his arm and down his back in a reassuring motion. You intended to pull away to get more bacta, but Luke leans into you.

"Can I–?" he asks softly. You nod, and he catches your mouth in another kiss.

He's overeager, teeth clacking against yours as he licks into your mouth and tries to get as close to you as bodily possible. In contrast, you try to stay gentle, refusing to even playfully nip at him like you otherwise might. The gash on his upper lip splits open anyway, sending him a shock of pain that should stop his motions, but he just groans into your mouth and keeps kissing you.

"You're bleeding!" you exclaim as taste blood and break away from him.

"S'okay," Luke whines, protesting your concern. It's evident how much he doesn't want to stop; he follows you as you pull away, tilting forward. You ignore the rush of arousal flooding your system at his shameless display and grab a bit of gauze and press it to the scrape.

"Look, it's fine. See?" Luke asserts when there's hardly even a few drops of his blood on the cloth as you remove it. Obviously vying to kiss you again.

It's hard to resist him and his pleading puppy-like eyes. You press a quick peck to his forehead.

"Hold still," you say, "I need to put a bit of bacta on that so it heals." It's the justification you're using, because if he keeps kissing you, you're going to lose control and the little scrape will never heal. Luke decides to give in to you as the voice of reason.

"There," you state when you've finished with his face. "Now..." you trail off, eyeing the gashes through the fabric of his fatigues and once again feeling bizarrely nervous, "You should. You should take your shirt off next."

"Right," he sighs, feeling unsure. He reaches up with his left hand and starts undoing the fastens on his shirt.

"I could help you?" you offer softly.

"Sure," he nods.

You gently help him out of his shirt, careful of the cut in his upper left arm and scrape across his elbow that tore through even the fabric of the shirt. The shirt is falling apart, burned in places and ripped in others, and you sort of drop the fabric off to the side, unsure if it's salvageable.

When you look back up, the breath feels like it's been punched out of you.

Luke was always lean, a scrappy sort of muscular but this is new. You remind yourself you haven't seen him in months and that he's been off doing stars-know-what during his Jedi training. Behind the bruises and scrapes, he's built a bit of muscle, more defined than last time. Your eyes dart across his body; his arms alone have you biting your lip, feeling more butterflies in your stomach than ever before.

Luke catches you looking at him, catches you eyeing him up and down like you'd like to devour him, and he just gazes back at you. The blush on his cheeks from earlier never went away.

You convince yourself to slow down and wipe the dried blood off his arms and torso. There's no way to avoid how close the two of you are; you've practically wormed your way into standing between his legs as you dab bacta on the cuts and bruises that litter his midsection. Shamefully, you think about how good he smells, sweat be damned.

Luke audibly groans when you slide your hand across his shoulders in preparation to hold his arm up while you apply the medical salve. Your fingers dig slightly in to his sore musculature and he can't hold back.

"Sorry," you choke out, "want me to stop?"

"Mm-mm. Feels good, actually."

You feel another crack in your resolve form as you slather bacta along his cuts and bruises.

Luke is far enough gone himself, and you try not to notice. His breathing rate increased the second you started touching him, and he knows a hard-on would be ill-timed right now, but he kind of doesn't care that he can feel a tent beginning to form in his pants. It's a welcome distraction from the absolute shit day he's had, and he really, really missed you. The feeling of your hands on his body is unparalleled, so welcome and warm.

The logical choice of waiting even a day in order to prevent his wounds from re-opening is losing appeal for him.

You, however, continue to grasp onto logic. Not meeting his eyes as you finish applying the bacta, you step away from him and turn to fiddle with the medkit.

“Okay, I think it's alright for you to lay down now. I’ll go so you can rest," you say. You don't want to leave him, but it's the responsible thing. You'll go lay in your own bunk and mind your own business. He's hurt, he needs repose, he–

“Don’t go.”

Not turning around, you go to answer. “Luke, you need—"

“I need you,” Luke insists, desperately. He reaches out and grabs your wrist lightly, like he moved without thinking.

It's very calculated, however, when you turn around and he raises your hand to his cheek and plants a kiss on the palm of your hand.

"Please?" he breathes, eyes wide, looking up at you and begging. His hand hasn't left yours where it rests on the side of his face.

“Oh, baby,” you sigh adoringly, your heartbeat in your throat and your determination to let him alone long gone as you return to stand in between his spread legs. You'd normally settle down on his thighs and grind against him, where you know Luke likes you best, but right now you're sure to be gentle as you can. You're a bit worried about whatever unknown bruising could be beneath the pants he didn't even get off before he couldn't resist you anymore.

“Kriff, it’s been so long. Missed you,” Luke mutters against your mouth between kisses.

"Yeah?" you ask, losing the brain capacity to answer coherently as Luke buries his face in the crook of your shoulder and sucks a kiss into the juncture of your skin.

Any gentle peck you try to give Luke turns dirty as he doubles down in passion every time, almost refusing to let any kiss end until the two of you are gasping for air. He's desperate to touch you, and yes, your hands are cradling his face and he loves it, but you're still somewhat leaning away from him, standing over him as he sits in front of you. He wants.

It's accidental, what happens next. You feel a sudden pressure against your lower back that nudges at you until you tip forward, catching yourself just inches before you would have fallen against Luke, your knee coming to rest in between the junction of his legs. In your new position, he immediately grinds his hard cock on your thigh, the drag of his sizeable length suddenly against you. It's accidental, but it's what he needs.

You break the kiss and gasp. The Falcon hasn't shifted out of hyperspace and you're not off-balance.

"Baby?" you inquire, the question unspoken. Did you just use the Force to move me? Many of Luke's abilities are new. If it was him, it was a recent development, at least in your experience.

"'m sorry," Luke whines, "I didn't mean to– I don't know what happened," but even as he says it, he's practically fucking himself against you, the strain of his bulge in his khaki pants borderline painful.

You're too turned on to even admonish him. You wouldn't if you could. You liked it, liked how his growing desire for you was overwhelming him to the point of losing control.

"Need me that bad?" you tease.

You hardly expect a response, but Luke keens and thrusts hard against your leg, his cock aching and his voice catching on a moan. "Ah-h!! Angel, I told you I do," he mewls. The flush on his face is as red as you've ever seen him.

“Let me take care of you,” you coo as you sink down onto the floor. Unable to resist, you shove your nose against Luke's clothed cock, inhaling his scent and mouthing at him over his disgusting khakis.

"Oh that's– you don't have to–" Luke starts, squirming.

"Want to," you answer, kissing and licking at his bulge until the fabric covering him is damp, from his dripping cock or from your mouth, you aren't sure. His dick throbs, straining painfully against his clothing. "Wanna see your pretty cock even more though," you continue.

You don't have to tell him twice. He scrambles to unzip his pants and you help him, pulling his flushed cock from the confines of his underwear. It bobs against his stomach and smears pre-cum across his torso, across his newly-defined abs. Unable to help yourself, you lean up and lick a bit of the pre-spend off of him, which only makes his erection kick and leak more.

You place an open-mouthed kiss to his cock as you move lower, and then take him into your mouth.

"F-fuck! Your mouth, oh, you ffeel s' ohh," Luke exclaims, incoherent when you first take him into your throat, fisting the rest of his cock in your hand as you bob up and down on him. He almost thrashes, hips jerking forward and hand coming to rest in your hair, not pulling just there, a guiding weight that has you moving at an even pace, sucking at the head of his cock and popping off of him every once in a while to kiss the underside or tip of his member and make him writhe underneath you. Your cunt clenches around nothing when he moans or squirms for you.

As you slide your mouth off his cock, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip, his body jerks. He fucks his cock against your lips and his hips stutter against your mouth, like he can't take one second without you.

"Stars, baby, like my mouth that much?"

"I like all of you that much."

His declaration is unbearably hot, and you reward him by deepthroating him as far as you can take him, throat constricting around him and your eyes watering.

Luke inhales sharply, surprised by your sudden action.

“S-stop.”

“Is something wrong?” you ask, pulling off of him, immediately conscious of his delicate state and concerned he's started bleeding or something like that.

“'m close. Almost came,” Luke admits shyly, looking off to the side and not meeting your eyes. He still isn't quite comfortable with how fast his body finishes with you, even though you've told him several times how much his eagerness and sensitivity turned you on.

“That's the point, right?” you affirm lightly, running a hand up his thigh. "You wanna cum in my mouth?"

Luke looks at you, blushing fiercely. “I don't wanna cum yet at all," he whines, softly guiding you up from your kneeling position on the floor. He kisses you, absolutely claiming your mouth before he nuzzles his face into your neck, "I don't want this to be over," he confesses, and he sounds both desperate and a bit sad.

"Doesn't have to be," you say, settling into a somewhat more dominant role, but keeping your tone is still gentle. He's liked it in the past when you take the lead, so you try it out. "Tell me what you want."

The shift in your attitude has Luke suddenly shameless, pressing himself bodily against you until the two of you can't honestly get any physically closer.

"I wanna be inside you. I-inside your pussy,” he whines.

His words send shockwaves up your spine and you bite your lip, clenching around nothing.

"A-and," he chokes out, rutting against your thigh like he's an animal, "I want you to make me wait."

You won't make him clarify the last part. You're plenty aware that's his way of asking you to edge him, to control his orgasm so he doesn't finish 'too soon', a game you've played before with him, and he's already shy about it. It makes sense right now, especially since you're basically letting him use you like a distraction from the absolute shit day he's had, that he doesn't want this to end.

"Ask me nicely," you urge.

"Please can I fuck your pussy?" Luke gasps.

"Fuck yes, oh my god," you answer, kissing him and shoving your pants and undergarments off and straddling his lap. "Need your fingers first though. C'mere," you grab at his hand and pull his digits along your slit.

Luke almost wants to groan in protest, feeling suddenly very impatient, but he practically chokes as he runs his fingers through your wetness. His eyes roll back in his head when he slips a finger inside of you, shocked at your state of arousal, and you loosely wrap your hand around his dick. He starts grinding against your hand immediately and you know you're going to have to slow him down eventually if he wants to last.

"Shit, u-um," he throws his head back to look up at you. "You're soaked. Just f-from having your mouth on me?" he ventures, feeling like he needs reassurance in this moment for some reason.

“Mm! Been– been getting like this since you started making those cute noises while I was patching you up.”

"Yeah?" Luke is soaking the praise up, working his fingers in and out of you and across your clit with as much focus as he can. He's inexperienced with his left hand, but you'd never guess. Your cunt is dripping around him down to his wrist.

"You make such perfect sounds, baby," you promise him. "Ah-h!" you exclaim when he brushes up against that spot inside you, "fuck, baby, keep going."

Luke nods against you. "Keep talking? Please?" he asks, so sweetly.

"I never get used to how big you are. You have such a pretty cock, Luke. Helping me first so I can even think about taking it."

He sinks two digits to the knuckles into you cunt and presses hard on your g-spot.

"Ohh-!! Baby!" you shout, caught off guard. "You're so good– so good, such a good boy f' me."

"C-close," he whines. He's already that far gone, even from this uncoordinated dry-humping half handjob, face a mess, dick literally twitching in your hand from the praise you're directing at him. You take your hand away from his cock since he asked to be denied. He makes no move to stop his motions on you, so you let him finger you open with his hand and play with you for a while longer.

When he's calmed down a bit and you do sink down onto him, your combined juices make a disgustingly lewd wet noise and you both breathe out moans. There's still a stretch; Luke is bigger than most, and you haven't had anyone since he left. You haven't had anyone else since the first time with him, at all.

“I-I was bad," Luke suddenly states as you work to take his length inside your dripping core. Any position takes work to fit his cock in your cunt, but riding him takes the most.

“Oh honey, no, you feel amazing for me,” you reassure, both remembering his insecurity earlier and thinking about how full his cock is making you feel.

“Nno I– don't mean. I mean..." he breathes and pauses, "I thought about you whi-while I was training. I wasn’t supposed to."

"What do you mean?" you ask gently.

"Not 'posed to have attachments. Feelings," Luke gasps, thrusting up once into your soaked cunt before his hips settle into a slow grind. He's toying with the edge of your shirt that you forgot to take off earlier, running his hand tentatively under the seam. He's shy, not meeting your eyes again even though he's literally inside you right now. In a way, you understand that he's confessing something very secret to you and you're reeling a bit.

'Missed you," he says earnestly for the second time this evening when you don't say anything back right away. His gaze finally lands on yours and something is electric in the air. He's practically given you his love confession several times in the last hour but this feels different.

"I don't think that's bad," you say, barely above a whisper. "Not at all. I missed you too," you kiss him again, rolling your hips.

And then, “What’d you think about?” because you can't resist.

Luke's hips go back to a stuttering pace, alternating between grinding up into you and the occasional rogue thrust, like he's holding himself back.

"Uh-uhm," he falters, fighting self-consciousness at sharing his fantasies, but the words start spilling out of his mouth anyway, "The way you smile at me when you're f-flirting. What it feels like to kiss you. A-and I thought about your hands and what they feel like on me. When you hold me, or... or when they're wrapped around- ugh m-my cock."

You gasp, but Luke continues without pause.

"How I wanna fuck you slow in bed in the morning. I'll be good. I-I can make it good f' you. Worth waking up early for," he promises. It's startlingly domestic, but before you can linger on it, he keeps going. "Missed your– haa, ah, your pretty tits, too."

"What about them?"

"How gorgeous they are. How you look when you don't wear a bra. C-can't look away."

"You wanna see?" you ask, surprised he hasn't asked you to take your shirt off earlier.

Luke whines, eyes hooded as he nods. "Please."

You practically throw your shirt off and unclasp your bra in record time.

You shift, pushing your chest towards him where he sits, as a desire to give him everything he's ever wanted burns inside of you. He deserves it. He's supposed to have been solely concentrated on learning to be a Jedi– and he clearly has been training– but on top of it, all he's admitting to focusing on not only just some ancient mystic wisdom but also on you, too. You think you love him.

You run your fingers across the nape of his neck and pull on his golden locks, guiding him towards your tits.

You roll your hips against him, pussy clenching around him as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, rolling the bud over his tongue and moaning with every breath.

"Fuck! D-don't move like that. I-I'll cum. M'gonna cum."

"Want you to," you say, but you stop your motions anyway.

"N-not yet," he chokes out. "You haven't– I want it to be good for you," drooling against your tits.

“Stars, you're so sweet. Look how good you’re being for me right now,” and he is being good. He’s being so good, so considerate, and your pussy involuntarily tightens around him again at the thought.

"O-oh shit, I can't take it, I c-can't fucking take it," Luke voice shakes, and in an impressive show of strength for his current state, he pulls out of you and flips your positions so you're laying on the cot and he rests on his knees between your thighs. He doesn't push back inside you; his cock rests against your clit, and he distracts you by leaning down to kiss you for a moment. It's his way of stalling; you know he needs a moment to hold back from finishing.

Even though it feels nice, the contact is not enough, not when you've had a taste of him inside your walls already, and you let yourself paw needily at him, trying to get him to slip in.

"You're as bad as I am, aren't you?" Luke huffs lightly, amused.

"Yeah," you breathe "I just want you, so bad."

“I– I thought I might've sensed that,” Luke says, almost sounding smug momentarily, happy with your response, "through the Force, but I- I wasn't sure if it was just my own desire," he drops that absolute bombshell on you before he mercifully slips back inside you and sets a rapid pace. Your hands fly above you to brace yourself against the wall of the nook.

"S-shit! Baby! Y-you can hear what I'm thinking?"

Luke groans, dropping his head and trying to formulate a coherent response. "Kind of. It's more like I feel... intentions, if you think really hard about something, I-I can sense–"

Your eyes flutter closed, and the way your cunt tightens around his dick cuts Luke off completely. You're rapidly spiraling towards your own high, his words and his cock wrecking you.

All your energy goes into projecting as much lust as you possibly can at him; you're running through every fantasy you've ever had, every dirty thought about him that's ever crossed your mind in an effort to get him to pick up on your emotions. It works, and Luke has to catch himself with his hand before he collapses on top of you.

"Haah, ahh," he whimpers, "That's- that's- y' feel like that about me?" he asks, his eyes rolling back in his head. He's positively losing control, his hips grinding into yours as he pounds into your pussy.

"Yes," you insist, "god, Luke, you fuck me so good, don't fucking stop."

Luke's cute little whines are coming more frequently, his thrusts more erratic, but he doesn't stop. You know him well enough to know he's not going to be able to hold off much longer, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his thighs nearly shaking with effort. Your own high is rapidly approaching.

"Close?" you ask.

"Y-yeah, been close," Luke answers with a bit of humor. “Please let me make you cum first. I just wanna make you cum first,” he cries out, pussydrunk and unable to think of anything other than his and your impending orgasm.

He sits upright again, pulling you in one swift motion by your hips to meet his, then rubs at your clit, circling you. The last inch of his cock slotting into you and the extra stimulation is the only thing you needed to push you over the edge, grinding down on him and yelling his name.

When you come down seconds later, you're met with Luke's gasping moans and begging. He's lost any self control he was able to display before, falling apart in front of you and inside you.

"Ah-haah, fu-fuck, fuck! Gonna cum, am I allowed– can I cum inside you? Please can I cum in you?" he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers in his.

"Oh Luke, give it to me, baby, please!"

He groans, accompanied by a nearly incoherent mumbling of your name as he spills inside you, hand squeezing yours. His cock gives a jolt inside of you and the feeling of being filled by his spend makes you topple over the edge again, overstimulated. There's so much of his cum that you feel it drip down your thigh before he even pulls out and you wonder when the last time he let himself cum was at all. He curses and cries out under his breath when you tighten around him a second time, aftershocks still traveling through his body as he collapses next to you in the tiny alcove of the wall.

"Love you," he confesses in a hushed tone as he settles there against you, his face tucked shyly into your shoulder.

"Love you back. You have me," you answer with a quiet confidence. When he looks at you, you see the tiniest pinpricks of tears in his eyes.

"Hey," you run a hand along his back, "it'll be okay."

"Yeah," Luke nods against you. It will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I don't know how clear I've made it but when I was writing this I was imagining reader and Luke having a sort of on-again-off-again thing (due to the whole Jedi training and extended amounts of time apart) in the past, and that she'd mayyyybe also "comforted" him after Hoth, mayhaps one day I write a prequel to this fic? idk yall know me and following through so no promises lol

#luke skywalker smut #luke skywalker x reader #becca's bs #not proofread #poorly researched and probably poorly written LMFAO #enjoy. this took me so long for no reason #if there’s inconsistency in so sorry

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 11 months

Note

the way i need enemies to lovers smut with cal where reader is a sith lord and gets hurt but cal being the good man that he is, takes her back to his place and things happen yk 😰

i love this so much and I hope it's alright that I changed the prompt a teensy bit. instead of being sith, reader is just a darkside-user more generally. also gender neutral. thank you so much for the request!

Balance (Cal Kestis x reader)

Summary: You encounter Cal Kestis a few too many times, and you can't explain the way that the Force seems to be conspiring to put you two together in a room.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors DNI; gn!reader; inappropriate use of the Force; reader is a darkside user and honestly doesn't know how fucked they are; semi-graphic injuries; porn with plot; toxic relationship lowkey; blowjob; mutual masturbation (sort of); penetrative sex; unprotected sex (pls be safe irl y'all); if I missed anything please let me know!

Word Count: 12,765 my hand slipped

The first time you encounter Cal Kestis, you nearly kill him.

You’d heard the rumors, of course, whispered with bright eyes and furtive expressions in shithole Outer Rim cantinas of a flame-headed being cutting down Inquisitors and Imperials. When you first overheard a snippet of the tall tale, you’d nearly choked on your cheap spotchka. Right, you remember thinking, a fiery figure opposing the Empire. Did they run out of good gossip today?

Most rumors have at least a kernel of truth at their centers, and you figured it was the same with this one. And besides, you are indifferent to the Empire, at best; you’ve been avoiding their attention as much as you can, but you suspect that the thick cloak of the darkside you wear like a mantle has kept most of the Inquisitorius oblivious. They’re looking for Jedi, who cannot resist continuing to do good in a galaxy rotted to its core, and you stopped being a Jedi long before the Empire rose to power. They probably pay no mind to one lone figure who straddles the line of light and dark, temptation and virtue.

But that doesn’t mean Jedi pay no mind to you. Most of them, you can avoid; you fight when necessary. Currently, you’re thinking a fight might just be necessary. You’re on some planet you’ve already forgotten the name of, densely populated and urban. You stand with one foot propped on the edge of a rooftop, neon lights glimmering on wet permacrete. Rain drizzles in a fine mist. You gaze placidly across the gap to the next building—to the flame-headed being. Without even needing to try, you feel his Force signature: he burns in the Force, even as he tries to hide it. His coppery hair ruffles in the slight breeze, stubble darkening his face.

With a steadying breath, you tilt your head to one side. “Got a name, friend?”

“Not one you need to know,” he calls back. His posture is loose, casual, but you sense the whipcord tension in his Force aura; he’s on the alert.

As he probably should be.

“If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?” You offer him a disarming smile. “Seems only fair, right? Equitable partnership.”

He snorts. “There’s no partnership.”

“Fine,” you huff. You tell him your name anyways, and he mouths it silently, but none of that tension dissipates. You take the moment to appraise him a little more closely: lean body, self-assured slant of his shoulders, faded burn scar cut across his face. Heat licks up your spine.

“Cal,” he eventually says. “Cal Kestis.”

You smile wide at his honeyed voice. “Nice to meet you, Cal Kestis. Mind moving out of the way so I can continue on my merry way?”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s no trace of regret in that gorgeous voice, only immense exhaustion.

Your saber hilt twitches against your back as your hand flexes nearly out of habit. Taking another deep, cleansing breath, you shrug as if his answer means nothing. The dark tide of the Force surges through your body, tingling in your fingertips, sharpening the smoggy night air into fine detail. “Well, can’t say I didn’t ask nicely.”

And then you leap, going from a dead standstill to a flurry of action in the space of a heartbeat. As your unstable crimson blade screeches to life, bathing the rooftops in flickering light, an answering snap-hiss echoes around you. Blue beam clashes with red, showering sparks over both of you.

Oh, he’s strong, and for some reason that makes your skin flush. You bare your teeth in a mockery of a smile and shove. He staggers back, feet slipping for a moment in the gravel surface of the rooftop, before he recovers.

“I’ll give you this one chance to stand down,” he says, voice thick and low and oh how it makes you shiver. His eyes glint in the blue light of his saber.

“Funny,” you snap, “I was just going to say the same to you.”

A frown tugs at his mouth. Lowering into a defensive stance, his eyes never leave yours as you languidly swing your saber in a half circle around you, content to draw this out. You’ve killed your number of Jedi in the name of self-preservation—necessary sacrifices to ensure the continued balance of Light and Dark—but there’s something about the way his green eyes harden into sharp gems the longer you twirl your blade, the casual power in his veined forearms, the absolutely pure gold energy he radiates in the Force.

With an aggravated shake of your head, you press the attack. Overhead, backhand, thrust, thrust, parry—you and Cal settle into a dangerous dance. Bright light bursts where your sabers connect, sparks skittering across the gravel. For anyone watching nearby, the pair of you probably look like blurs of red and blue light—another light fixture among this technicolor urban landscape.

But for anyone skilled in the Force, the radiance of your sabers dims in comparison to the pillars of energy you both become. One golden and bright as a thousand suns, shot through with faint tendrils of inky blackness; one glowing in shadow, a black hole ringed by its event horizon, smears of golden light.

Both the light and the dark are present in this fight, and you smile grimly. In all things, balance, as your master used to say.

The memory is a distraction, and Cal manages to break through your guard and punch your nose. Searing pressure spikes through your head, warmth dribbling down your face.

You merely grin at him with blood-covered lips. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kestis.”

And again the two of you become a flurry of attacks, parries, counterattacks, feints. In the distance, the low drone of a police siren reverberates off the tall glass buildings of the downtown area. You’ve been spotted. Time to end this now.

You make a show of appearing to be tiring, breathing coming in heavy gasps, your saber still meeting Cal’s in time to stop him from separating your limbs from your body, but just a fraction slower than what you’d begun with. And you give ground. Just a half step at first, and then several steps. Cal seizes the opportunity to push you back, force you into submission, gain the upperhand—

Not knowing he’d lost this fight the moment he’d placed himself in your path.

The Force is with you. In the Force, your arms seem to glow with terrible, purple-black ultraviolet power as you surrender yourself to its currents. There is no longer you and your saber; your saber is you. There is no longer you and Cal Kestis; there is you and the last piece of yourself that you’re willing to atrophy. Veins of golden Light criss-cross under your darkly shining skin—and as you stand firm once again with your back to the low roof edge, you will those golden veins to flush, to swell. You’re going to triumph here, and it’ll be with the approval of the full Force.

Cal’s face gleams with sweat, his brow furrowed, delicious mouth curved down in a frown. You lick your lips.

“Yield, Kestis,” you say. One last chance.

He just grunts, and in a blur of motion, separates the hilt of his saber. Another beam of blue snaps to life. Fear flares in you for a moment—but the Force remains with you, and you let the emotion siphon into your cracked, bleeding kyber. Plasma spits off the sides of your blade as you block attack after attack after attack; you’re an infinite well of patience—but that siren is getting closer, and you know that time, unlike your patience, is of the essence.

In a flash of inspiration, you reverse your grip on your hilt mid-parry, then swipe the angry blade out and up. A cry of pain, and one of the blue sabers retracts as the hilt clatters to the gravel. Cal stumbles back, cradling his left arm to his chest, his remaining saber held in front of him.

You can’t help the surge of pleasure at besting your opponent, even temporarily. As you twirl your saber again, a spotlight suddenly beams down on the two of you. With a grimace, you swing the saber down towards the soft juncture of Cal’s neck where it meets his shoulder—

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of the calm, resigned look in his eyes. Your blade hovers mere centimeters off his skin.

Amid the roar of hovercraft, the police siren, and the rushing of blood in your ears, he murmurs your name.

“Kark it all,” you spit. Gathering the Force within you, you shove him back. A shout of surprise, a flash of blue, and then he’s tumbling over the edge of the building. You retract your blade and dash in the opposite direction without a second thought.

Your master had always been honest with you about how little he, or anyone, truly knew about the mysteries of the Force. During your years as a padawan, you spent countless hours in meditation chambers deep below the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, feeling the constant ebb and flow of the Force around you. The first time he brought you there, your master explained in hushed tones how the temple had been built millennia ago over an old Sith temple. The Force resided in a nexus point there; streams of energy flowed from all over the galaxy and converged—and then diverged—from the temple.

Sitting in meditation now, you breathe deeply and steadily as the memory crests over you.

“But, Master,” you asked, “if the temple used to be a Sith stronghold, doesn’t that mean the dark side of the Force is strong here, too?”

His kind, patient eyes crinkled as he smiled. “That is right, my Padawan. In all things, there must be balance. Light and dark only exist because of each other.”

A frown tugged at your lips at that, and you cocked your head to the side. “But aren’t we supposed to resist the darkness?”

“Yes,” he said. “The darkness is an overbalance—an overabundance—of emotions, passions, fears. The Sith, and all who use the dark side, manipulate the Force to their will, instead of letting their emotions, like the Force, flow through them.”

Something about that didn’t feel right. “But—”

Your master held up one hand, forestalling the line of questioning you were about to launch into. He stepped through a large, arched doorway into a dim, echoing room. “Come, Padawan. Perhaps meditating will provide the answers you seek.”

You inhale slowly and open your eyes, squinting against the bright blue glare of the hyperspace lane. No matter how long or how hard you meditated under the temple, you grew no closer to an answer than by asking your master. Despite your frustration, you kept returning to the chambers below the Great Hall. The Force there was...comforting. Balanced. And yet, so infuriating in its mystery. You could feel both the light and the dark, and neither were good or bad. The Force just...was. Perhaps it was the long hours you spent in the tunnels and vast echoic chambers there that you developed your keen sense for the composition of the Force.

Standing, you groan softly at the ache in your knees. As you settle back into the thinly padded pilot’s seat, you massage at the joints, wondering just when you’d gotten old.

Probably when that droid shot through your master’s heart on Geonosis, and you’d physically felt the Force tip off-balance half a galaxy away, deep in meditation on Coruscant. The memory is painful, and digs its festering claws into your heart yet again.

The Council hadn’t even needed to tell you your master had perished in the opening salvo of the Clone Wars. The morning after his funeral, with both his and your sabers in your pack, you’d fled the temple.

The old fool, you think, slashing the memory of him from your awareness.

By now, you’re used to the pit of emotions yawning in your very essence. You hold onto your fears, your angers, your anxieties—but also your loves, your passions, your desires. Without even really thinking about it, you reach for the loose compartment that holds your master’s saber. Its duranium-plated hilt is slowly corroding, matching the slow degradation of yourself. The blade jumps to life with a snap-hiss. The green glow it casts is almost sickly, the blade bright, but thin and tremulous. It’s been weak since he died.

As you stare, eyes burning, into the flickering core of your master’s blade, you reach into the Force for the kyber at its heart. No matter how many times you brush against the crystal with your mind, you’re never prepared. A screech, unending and agonized and fearful, rends through your consciousness. For a moment, the green sputters, crimson taking its place.

You drop the saber, gasping. The hilt clatters to the floor and blade retracts, and you’re left again in the pressing silence of hyperspace.

In all things, balance, drift the words through you once again. Green against crimson. Crimson for blue. You think about Cal Kestis, his blinding presence; you think of your vacuous silhouette; and you take all the rage you can muster and twist it into your own heart like a dagger. The joists of your ship groan in response.

The second time you meet Cal Kestis, you almost wish you’d killed him all those years ago.

Just a few months after that first encounter on rain-slicked rooftops, you caught wind of a rumor that the flame-headed being attacked the Fortress Inquisitorius itself. This time, you didn’t discount the story, having witnessed first hand—for however short a time—the Force-empowered determination of that single human being. None of the rumors about Cal Kestis surprise you anymore.

But you routinely have to curse his name as the Inquisitors have now turned their attention beyond just Jedi. The cloak of the darkness is no longer enough on its own to hide you from the long gaze of the Empire. You’ve taken to hiding out on barely populated Outer Rim worlds, hanging around long enough to establish some kind of routine, before the gentle ripples of the Force lapping against your subconscious grow into towering, dangerous waves. And then you hop back in your ship, barely more than scrap welded to a hyperdrive, and scuttle off to the next system.

Which is where you find yourself now. Koboh could be promising. As you crouch at the edge of an exposed cliff, you study the cosmic anomaly that orbits the planet. The Abyss. You’re not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it creates a strong enough disturbance in the Force that you’re hopeful it will mask your own signature. And, you admit to yourself as your gaze lowers to the breathtaking landscape spread out below you, you’ve hidden in worse places the last few years. Koboh seems promising, indeed.

You spend a few days studying the locals, trying to get a feel for how life works here. For the most part, everyone here seems like they’re from off-world—which is good, because it means you won’t stand out for very long as a newcomer. Everyone here is a newcomer. And everyone here is more concerned, it seems, with the things that lie in the dirt than in the world aboveground. All the better for you.

Concealing your saber hilt against your back like always, you make sure your ship, bucket of bolts that it is, is well-hidden enough to dissuade any potential scrappers. Tucked high on an outcropping, you hope most folks won’t care too much to check out the shiny metal bits not covered by plant matter. Not when it’s several dozen feet above solid ground.

And you make sure you look as uninteresting as possible. With your saber out of view, you could pass for a refugee without issue. Force knows you’ve been weeks without a proper shower; you can feel the dirt and grime on every inch of your skin. Your clothing, usually neat and tucked in, is dusty, torn, and stained with dried blood.

Yes, you’ll fit in nicely here.

As you pass beneath a metallic archway decorated with a massive horned skull, you reach out in the Force, making sure that none of the town’s inhabitants can get the drop on you. You bypass squat, square buildings that are probably homes of some of the folks here. None seem of interest. Instead, your gaze is trained on the larger, multi-story building near the center of town. As you draw nearer, you realize the sign above the door reads, “Saloon.” Perfect.

The door opens to admit you into a hallway; at the end, you wait in front of another door for a moment while a mechanical eye studies you. Chattering in a deep, unintelligible voice, the eye withdraws, and the second door whooshes open to reveal the barroom.

No one turns as you descend the few steps to the floor. Crates and clutter stock most of the booths along the side wall, a few folks talking quietly at smaller tables or sitting alone and nursing a drink. Quiet, staticky radio music plays over the speakers.

Behind the bar is a tall, four-armed droid who skids to a halt where you lean against the counter.

“You’re a new face,” the droid says. “Name’s Monk. What can I get you?”

You quirk an eyebrow and give the droid, Monk, an alias, your sixth one in as many months. Then you say, “Got any spotchka?”

“Indeed I do,” Monk says. “Shall I start a tab?”

“I’ll pay up front,” you say with a shake of your head.

Monk gives you the cost as he pours the glowing blue liquid into a clean glass, and you slide the credits across the counter. The alcohol’s familiar burn slides down your throat as you lean your back against the bar. Over the rim of your glass, you study the other patrons here at the saloon. Dusty, tired figures, the lot of them. In the Force, they are marginal, giving off only nominal signatures, no different than most other living beings. Most of them aren’t important enough to even warrant a clear affiliation with light or dark; they just are. Your upper lip quirks in a grimace.

Extending your awareness out farther, you’re not sure what you’re searching for, but you suppose you’ll know it when you find it. The hilt of your saber digs uncomfortably into your skin, but you ignore it, using the pain to sharpen your focus. You sense more townsfolk going to and fro outside the saloon, but none of them of any more note than those inside.

Something in you itches. Frowning, you lower the glass of spotchka and try to focus in on that feeling. It’s under your skin, out of reach, just behind your spine, but if you just push a little farther—

You gasp, cringing away from the sudden supernova that blinds your awareness in the Force. Cal Kestis. It has to be Cal. No one else burns quite like him.

You yank your Force signature back into your body, hoping he didn’t feel you like you felt him. Figuring you only have moments to get out, you make a split-second decision between the several other doors leading away from this main room. Spotchka glass still in hand, you dart for the nearest door, and it slides open to reveal a staircase that winds upward. You take the steps two at a time. At the landing, you hiss at the sight of a second-floor loft. Stairs seem to continue along the other side, continuing to wind upward, but before you can run for them, a familiar voice drifts up from below.

“Hey, Monk, good to see you,” says Cal Kestis.

Your body flushes with warmth. Kriff.

Monk says something you can’t quite make out.

“Another newcomer?” Cal says. “I’ll make sure to say hi when I see them.”

Grimacing, you creep across the floor toward the second staircase. Your foot just touches the bottom step when a voice behind you calls your name—your real name, not the alias you gave the droid.

You sigh, chin falling toward your chest. “Cal Kestis.”

“How did you find me?”

His green gaze burns into you almost as hot as his Force signature. You roll your eyes; typical Jedi, thinking the world revolves around him.

“I didn’t know you were here,” you say. “I’m...laying low.”

He crosses his arms across his chest, and you’re distracted for a moment by the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “I’m supposed to believe that.”

“Believe whatever you want to, Jedi,” you bite out. “I’ll go find my own desolate planet.”

“Can’t let you do that,” he says, following behind you as you climb the stairs.

“I’d love to see you stop me.”

You feel the disturbance in the Force and brace for it. His attempt to yank you back down the stairs fails as you push against it—but you can’t push past it. Equally matched. Balanced.

With a growl, you spin on your heel and point an accusing finger at Cal. “Are you really sure you want to do this right now?”

His eyes narrow at you as you stand there, chest heaving with emotion, both of you crackling with energy in the Force. You down the rest of your spotchka and shatter the glass on the ground. Cal doesn’t flinch. The longer you stand there, the hotter your face flushes. Ignoring the impulse to shudder, you don’t miss the way his green eyes study your face, your posture, your signature.

“I know you,” he finally says. “From the temple.”

You snort in derision. “Good for you, kid.”

“I was still a youngling when the Clone Wars started,” he says. “I...understand what it’s like to lose your master.”

Your vision pulses black for a moment, and on instinct you reach out with a clawed hand. Cal’s eyes widen in fear as his hands fly to his throat, grabbing at the invisible hand you squeeze there.

“Don’t. Ever. Presume to know anything about me,” you hiss. “You know nothing, Cal Kestis.”

“You’re—right—” he chokes out. “I’m—sorry—”

You shove, the Force exploding through your palm as he slams into the opposite wall. Sputtering, he coughs, rubbing at his throat.

“I don’t need your pity, Jedi.” You spit the title like a curse—like the curse that it is—and turn to take the staircase up and out. The door at the top admits you to the open-air roof, the cosmic explosion of the Abyss looming overhead.

You step over the edge of the roof, calling on the Force to cushion your descent. At the bottom, you ignore the flabbergasted expressions on a few of the locals as you stalk off. Past the saloon, past the stables, through the shallow river—you’re not sure how far you walk, but it’s dark by the time that you realize you’re lost.

“Kriff,” you sigh.

Thankfully, whether by luck or by the sheer force of presence of your Force signature, you’ve not been bothered by any of the (frankly terrifying) wildlife on this planet. Tentatively, you reach out, but you find nothing but a few docile Nekkos and, farther off, a dozing bilemaw.

In the dim light provided by the Abyss and the Shattered Moon hanging heavy in the sky, you determine that a shallow cliff alcove nearby will be as good a place as any to rest until morning. Settling under the rocky overhang, you exhale a shaky breath.

It’s been a long time since you let your emotions take control like that. You allow yourself to feel them, even to use them to your advantage—but you rarely lose control. Not recently, anyways.

You bare your teeth at the thought of Cal Kestis. He’s by far only the latest in a string of former Jedi you’ve encountered, but none of them, even the ones who you remember from your years as a padawan, created this amount of turmoil in you. So why him?

Should probably just ask him myself, huh, you muse, hearing a twig snap nearby. You don’t need to look into the Force to know who it is.

“Who’s following who now?” you call.

With a familiar hum, a blue blade sings as it springs to life, illuminating the alcove you’re hunkered in, as well as Cal’s lean figure. You’re too exhausted to be angry at this point, but a different kind of heat licks up your spine as you push up onto your feet. The warmth settles between your thighs, throbbing uncomfortably as he raises the saber overhead, his arm muscles flexing.

“Had to make sure you didn’t hurt anyone,” he says, halting just a few feet away.

“No one out here to hurt,” you say. “What are you really doing here, Kestis?”

He hesitates, shifting his weight between his feet, eyes not meeting yours. Squinting, you extend a tendril of awareness toward him—past the burnished gold aura, past the shell of Jedi honor he projects like a shield, until you brush against one of those tiny black cracks in his signature. He stiffens, shifts his stance into a defensive half-crouch. There is darkness in him.

And there is lightness in you, sighs a voice that sounds very much like your master’s.

You ignore it.

“Well?” you prompt.

“I- I don’t know,” he says.

You snort. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know.” Sinking back into a meditative pose, you let your eyes slide shut and effectively shut out all things Cal Kestis.

At least, that’s what you try to do. The karking idiot seems to have decided that you’re not a threat—a poor miscalculation on his part—as his saber retracts and you hear the sounds of someone settling into a meditative trance next to you. Peeking one eye open, you glance over to find him sat back on his heels, palms resting on his thighs, his face blank and serene. He’s beautiful like this, you think.

“I could kill you right now, you know,” you say, letting your eye fall shut again.

“You won’t,” he says, sounding so matter-of-fact that you’re almost convinced that you really wouldn’t.

Then you shake your head. “Don’t be so certain.”

“You didn’t kill me five years ago. You won’t kill me now.”

Gnawing at your cheek, you find you have no response for that.

The third time you face Cal Kestis, you want to hate him.

Koboh proves to be big enough for two powerful Force users. You keep to the wilderness, and he sticks to the town. For the most part, anyway. You occasionally catch a glimpse of copper hair as he explores the planet, following all the inane rumors of the locals. Why he even lowers himself to their level, you’ll never understand.

And besides, Koboh has turned out to be a perfect place to continue your search for answers about the Force. You’ve never wanted to stop knowing, never stopped asking “But why?” The Abyss above is a physical presence most days, nearly oppressive in its crushing weight. It absolutely deafens you in the Force whenever you try to reach for it, painful screeching assaulting your senses. There’s something behind the noise, though, but it’s too far, too deep, for you to reach it.

You haven’t seen Cal in a while now. And you’re fine with that. You’d watched his ship take off in the early hours of the morning a few weeks ago, and it still hasn’t returned.

Shrugging, you decide that today is as good a day as any to do some exploring of your own. You’ve watched Cal enough to know that there are hidden vaults on this planet, and from what you’ve been able to tell, they’re old. Maybe they’ll have some answers.

The sunrise peeks over the craggy cliffside, casting a gentle pink hue over the world, still hushed in its predawn slumber. Dew collects on your pant legs as you pass through a small clearing of scrubby bushes. A couple dozen feet up the hill glints a hint of gold. None of the Koboh prospectors would have left this alone unless it were for a reason, you figure. Maybe this is one of the vaults.

Resting a palm gently on its surface, the gold is cool to the touch. Glyphs in Basic and other languages spiral around the circular door-like structure. When you examine it through the Force, you feel the mechanism that keeps it locked, but no matter how much you push, pull, yank, shove, the door remains sealed.

“Dank farrik,” you curse. “How does Cal do it?”

“Very carefully,” a familiar warm voice says from behind you.

You barely glance over your shoulder, flushing from the embarrassment of being caught unawares, but somehow unsurprised he’s managed to find you. You should have known that even thinking of his absence would cause it to revert.

“Very funny,” you say. “What secrets are you hiding, Jedi?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Sith,” he says.

As he sidles up alongside you, you glare at him. “I’m not a Sith.”

“Coulda fooled me,” he says with a shrug. “Red saber, strong in the dark side, angry all the time.”

Huffing, you roll your eyes. His hair is longer than it has been since you first met him, and there’s another scar, pink and shiny, on his upper bicep, like he’d been cut with a vibroblade. As you study him, you also realize he looks...older. More tired. More weary.

“You look like bantha fodder,” you say helpfully.

He hums noncommittally. “Do you want into the vault or not?”

“You’re gonna let me in?” you say, eyebrows raising in surprise.

With a half-shrug, he says, “I’ve already explored this one. Nothing left in it for you to gain, except maybe some manners.”

He reveals a small, handheld device that, when he raises it toward the golden door, blips. The door expands open, revealing a turbolift in the center of the floor.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask, not moving from your spot. Suspicion bubbles in the back of your mind.

Cal pockets the device and gestures for you to go ahead, giving you a sardonic two-finger salute. “It’s in my nature.”

With that, he takes a step back, then another, and then pivots and trudges back downhill, tucking his fiery hair behind his ears.

The vault teaches you something, alright, but it isn’t manners like Cal hoped. Even two century-old tech and warbled messages from a Jedi named Santari Khri cannot lift the veil of jade that rests over your eyes. The Order has always been faulty. The Order has always been weak. Your master was always fated to die, and you to wander, adrift. You grind your teeth in anger. Is that all that exists for you? For anyone? To live and die at the whim of some cosmic, unknowable power?

The vault also reminds you of your mortality. As you work yourself into a silent rage about the unfairness of the galaxy, at the cruel and nonsensical nature of the Force, you miscalculate the distance between two crumbling stone platforms. With a Force-assisted leap, your arms windmill as you keep yourself balanced, but your feet only just manage to catch the edge of the platform. You wobble, anger bursting into fear, as the stone grates against itself before your stomach is in your throat as you plummet straight down.

The rush of frigid air steals the scream from your lungs. Try as you might, the Force refuses to help you grasp onto the quickly receding lip of this chasm.

And then pain rockets up your legs in jagged, arcing lines from your heels to your hips, and you collapse.

It’s only by sheer willpower that you don’t black out. Grit your teeth. Take a deep breath. Curse until the pain abates.

You take stock of your body. Your legs are on fire, and any attempt to move them sends a fresh wave of lava licking up your nerve endings. Otherwise, you wipe away blood from scrapes on your palms and tenderly poke at the bruises already forming on your ribs. Around you, myriad rocks and small boulders litter the cracked, moist ground. Mist clings to the spaces in between. When you look up, the ledge you fell from is completely obscured.

“No Jedi wisdom for me, Santari Khri?” you croak as you gently shift into an upright position. Your teeth squeak from clenching your jaw against the pain, but you manage to prop yourself up with your back against a sizable rock.

The mist deadens your words. Instead of an echo, it’s like the words get clipped short before they can fully materialize in the air. The back of your neck pricks. But, studying your surroundings once more, there is nothing for you to do but meditate. Perhaps, for once, the Force will provide.

You have no way of knowing how much time has passed as you sit in meditation, methodically stretching your awareness to its limits, trying to snag onto any signature in the Force that might help you out of this predicament. Your butt goes completely numb, as do your legs—a fact you feel should incite panic in your already-tight chest, but you can’t find it in you to care. By the time that you’re ready to give up searching, your throat tickles with dryness and your stomach begins to feel empty.

But just as you heave a sigh, rising out of the meditative trance, the Force tugs on your awareness. Furrowing your brow, you concentrate: up, up up up, and to the left. Something steadily growing closer. Something bright, and familiar, and warm.

Cal.

For once, you’re grateful for his annoyingly Jedi-like qualities. You track his presence through the Force, unable to do more than monitor as he seems to approach your location with frustrating slowness.

“Come on,” you mutter, mouth thick. “I’m here. Come find me like you always do.”

After what feels like another small eternity, you finally open your eyes and peer up through the opaque mist. Above, you swear you hear boots crunching on loose rock, and the distant bwee-boop of a droid.

“Down here,” you half call, half croak. The words don’t seem to make it past your throat.

For a terrible moment, you think Cal is going to search the seemingly empty vault and, not finding you within, leave. You can’t tell, through either his footsteps or his Force signature, what he’s doing up there. At the last moment, a burst of panic seizing your limbs, you lean forward with a groan and retrieve your saber, still miraculously tucked into your waistband.

The spitting crimson blade is a comfort as it screeches to life in the oppressive space.

A voice calls your name, cautious.

“Here!” you shout, voice cracking painfully in an effort to be heard.

Blue flame bursts to life somewhere above—much farther above than you initially thought—and you nearly sob in relief.

“Watch your eyes,” Cal shouts down, and you have only a moment to register what he means before you duck, retracting your blade. The unmistakable sound of saber scoring through rock reaches you, heated pebbles showering down on your covered head, and then the sound of two soft leather-clad feet touching down beside you.

Wary, you raise your head. Cal crouches next to you, his face painted with a cautious kind of concern.

“You came back?” You don’t mean to make it a question, but the softness in his eyes, the gentleness with which he ghosts his hands over your many injuries, makes you reconsider your previous anger toward him. At least, for a moment.

“Like I said,” he murmurs, “it’s in my nature.”

“Legs are the worst of it,” you say, gesturing weakly to your two limbs stretched in front of you. Both are angry shades of blotchy red and purple, but no bone peeks out from within your skin at the very least.

Cal casts a questioning look up at you, his palms hovering over your legs. You give a small nod, and he lowers his hands until they make feather-light contact with your skin. Even as careful as he’s being, pain erupts all over again when he brushes over your shin, and you squirm, cursing.

“Probably fractured the bones,” he says. “Need to get you back to town.”

You groan. “Unless you plan on carrying me out of here, Kestis, I’m not in any shape to make it all the way back.”

He studies your face for a moment, really studies it, and you can’t help the way your lips part at the intensity in his gaze. Despite the aching pain in your legs, you can’t suppress the heat blooming up your neck into your cheeks the longer his eyes roam your face. Surely he can sense the way your Force aura grows more agitated.

Whatever he’s searching for on your face, he seems to find it. Shrugging his shoulders, the curious little BD unit you’ve noticed with Cal peeks its white-and-red head up. With a boop?, Cal jerks his chin at you.

The droid slides down Cal’s back and trots up to you. Tilting its head, the mismatched eyes whir and toggle as the droid seems to study you with the same scrutiny as Cal just had.

“What—”

In the blink of an eye—faster, even—a flash of green light dazzles you, followed by the sharp pain of an injection. But that doesn’t even matter, as a blissful, cool relief spreads immediately from the injection site through the rest of your body. The ache in your legs subsides to a dull throb, and you find that you can finally move the limbs without wanting to vomit.

“Stim,” Cal explains. He rises to his feet, and holds a hand out. “Come on. It’ll wear off soon.”

His hand is warm, achingly so, when he grasps yours and tugs you to your feet. Grimacing at the wave of nausea that sweeps over you, you cling to his hand until it passes.

He’s studying the sheer rockface to either side. “I may be carrying you out of here either way. Come on. Hop up.”

He turns to retrieve your saber where you dropped the hilt—he stiffens for just a moment, so quick you think you imagine it, before he hands the hilt back to you. And then he remains facing away from you. You realize, with a deep-seated groan, that he’s removed the jacket he was wearing earlier, when he let you into the vault. His shoulders are bare and so strong and pretty and freckled and—

His soft question of your name breaks you out of your reverie.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat. Tentatively, you hook your arms over top of his broad shoulders, trying to ignore the way his skin feels against yours, and he crouches so you can more easily clamber onto his back like a pack.

“BD, up,” Cal orders, and you squirm as the droid clambers up your back to rest with one foot on your shoulder and the other on Cal’s.

Even with the stim working through your system much like coolant in your ship’s engine, and even with Cal doing all he can to keep you steady on his back as he Force-propels himself up the vertical rockfaces of this cavern, you bite into your cheek hard enough for it to bleed to keep yourself from yelping in pain. It’s bad enough that he had to save you from a slow death in this Force-forsaken vault; he doesn’t need to know the fire that licks up your nerve endings with every jostle.

You shuffle off his back as soon as you’re able. A grimace contorts your features as you stumble a few steps, but you wave away Cal’s steadying hands.

“I’m fine,” you grit out.

“Yeah, you look fine,” he says.

You shoot him a glare, but you’re more exhausted than you are angry. “You didn’t have to come back for me.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he says, gesturing for you to step onto the turbolift first, “I don’t expect anything in return. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Ha,” you bark out. Your stomach lurches as the turbolift shudders into its ascent. “Of course I owe you, Kestis. It’s all about balance.”

“Balance,” he says, his voice strangely hollow and contemplative. “You murdered Rexan Binette and Sarela Webb and the others for balance?”

The names of the Jedi you killed reverberate off the curved walls of the lift chamber. Breathing through your nose, you avoid his gaze—and then shake your head at yourself, angry. Why should you be ashamed? It was them or you.

The lift comes to a smooth halt at the top, and you’re somehow unsurprised to find that it appears to be dawn again. Your eyes find Cal’s green ones. They look nearly black in the early morning haze. His expression bares all of his emotions: hurt, suspicion, concern, worry. But he doesn’t seem...afraid. Not of you, anyways, and instead of filling you with rage, that realization makes you deflate.

“The galaxy changed,” you say, voice flat. “You change with it, or you die.”

He fixes you with his stare for a moment more, and then shakes his head and begins the long walk back downhill without a word. Heaving a sigh, you follow him. You can’t repay the debt you now owe him if you die from an infected wound. You tell yourself that the heat bubbling in your chest is hate, hate that you’re now bound to this life debt, hate that of all people you’re in debt to Cal Kestis. But hate has never felt so soft.

The final time that you and Cal Kestis cross paths, you remember why hatred is easier.

It’s only a few weeks after when you’ve fully healed thanks to Cal’s quick intervention, the extra stores of bacta that you had the good foresight to stash in your ship years ago, and perhaps a nudge from the Force. You’ve retreated to your ramshackle abode in the wilderness; thankfully, the worst you have to deal with upon returning is a stray Bogling. No matter how hard you try to shoo the pesky creature away from your hut, it comes back again.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you grumble, watching the Bogling scratch at the dirt out front of your hut. It chitters as it works to burrow its den.

Cal has disappeared again, which works just fine for you. It’s easier to attune to the Force when he’s gone. When you’re not distracted by his burnished radiance, his soothing calmness, his serene meditation posture, his hair that looks as soft as the Bogling’s fur, his...him.

Genuinely, who the kriff does Cal Kestis think he is? Where does he get the right to continue to do good in the galaxy when all the galaxy wants is to kill him? To kill everyone like him? How does he continue fighting?

For that matter, how do you continue fighting? The sudden self-introspection is jarring. You squint a glare up at the Abyss, the technicolor explosion hanging heavy in the sky, as if it personally arranged your fated entanglement with the Jedi. As if it asked the question of your purpose, not your own conscience.

You have to squint in part because, in the Force, the Abyss is blinding. Stare too long and you’ll be blinking away spots from your vision for hours afterward. As your eyes start to water, you shake your head and bring your gaze back to terra firma. Kark it all, you think, bitter. You continue fighting because you have to. Because you have to know the answer. You have to understand the balance.

In the Force, you’ve watched for years as the streaks of light in your otherwise void-like existence pulse and contract. Here, underneath the staggering presence of the Abyss, the galactic, even cosmic, struggle between Light and Dark, splashes across your own skin, a microcosm. It makes you angry all over again, as you study the vapors of golden lightness drift around you. The anger is good. The anger makes the darkness pulse and surge and rise; the anger makes you more focused.

Gritting your teeth, you try to hang onto the anger.

And then you don’t have to try at all. In your peripheral awareness, the Bogling has scurried in fright into your small hut as the sound of footsteps—many, many footsteps—echoes off the surrounding cliff walls. Your lips curl back in a snarl at being interrupted. Saber hilt smacking into your palm with a familiar weight, the unsteady red blade fills your small clearing with a threatening hum.

Around the corner comes a full squad of Imperials. For a moment, you have to blink, to make sure that what you’re seeing is correct. But no. The hard white duraplast armor gleams in the midday sun, the mixed group of scout- and Stormtroopers advancing as one giant, grotesque organism. And at its midst, in the nucleus, are two black-clad figures wielding crackling electrostaffs.

Purge Troopers.

How dare they. How dare they come to your planet—and you hesitate only a moment over the possessiveness in your anger—and only another moment more when you find that you include Cal’s place on Koboh in that possession. This is your planet, together. The Light, and the Dark.

In all things, balance.

“Enemy located,” crackles the voice of one of the troopers. You don’t know, and don’t frankly care, which.

As the white-clad troopers fan out in a loose semicircle, blasters and batons raised at half-ready, the two Purge troopers continue a few paces forward. They’re nearly identical, all the way down to the way that they settle their weight on their right feet, perfectly unbalanced.

“You won’t get away,” the one to your left calls, his voice imperious and cold. “Not this time. You’ll be coming with us.”

“Don’t be so sure,” you call back, feigning disinterest. Through the Force, you mentally draw the battle map, the path of carnage and rage and blood you’ll wreak through the ten troopers in front of you.

“There are ten of us,” the other Purge Trooper says, voice cocky and self-assured. The battle map in your mind halts, then reasserts itself with a new pattern. One that places Mr. Cocky and Arrogant at the top of your assault.

You snort. “Glad to know the Empire is teaching its troopers basic math. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You twirl your saber in a half circle around your body, a familiar ritual, a reset button to remind you to keep your head clear. As blasters raise to full height, you take a deep, centering breath, and close your eyes.

A silence takes over your ears, your mind, your very being. You are one with the Force; the Force is with you. Despite all your issues with the cosmic Force, you know it will not fail you now. You don’t hear the order to fire, you don’t hear the clicks of triggers, you don’t hear the scream of blaster bolts. You don’t need to. Guided by the Force, void-like and in command, your arms—your saber—jumps into place.

Four blaster bolts pelt your way. Four blaster bolts ricochet and catch their originators in the chest. Four troopers fall.

You open your eyes, lips tugging back over your teeth in a mockery of a smile. Sound returns to you just as one of the scout troopers, shaken, stumbles back with a cry: “St-Stormtrooper KIA!”

You enact your battle map.

Gathering the Force to yourself, you push off the ground and shoot forward with a Force assist, your saber swinging up and cleaving back down at the critical juncture between the cocky Purge Trooper’s neck and shoulder. The glowing plasma sinks easily through duraplast, fabric, and flesh alike; the trooper’s groan of pain gurgles as your blade cuts through his lungs. Now there are five.

You whirl, saber moving nearly of its own accord to intercept each blow that the remaining troopers rain upon you. It’s nearly child’s play to parry their attacks, send them staggering off-balance. In a crucial moment where all your opponents hesitate to move forward again, you bare your teeth. Reaching out with a clawed hand, you grip the throat of one of the troopers, lift him bodily with the Force, then yank down as hard as you can. There’s a satisfying crack when he hits the ground.

You’re doing fine. You’re going to triumph here; the Force has willed it so. The fear of the remaining troopers is palpable and you draw on it, siphoning it into yourself, into your cracked and screaming kyber crystal. With a leaping slash, two trooper heads bounce away.

The remaining two troopers look at each other. You don’t need the Force to smell the fear rolling off of the scout trooper in waves, and you fix him with a feral grin.

“No more quips?” you ask, voice harsh.

He drops his baton and runs.

“Just you and me,” the Purge Trooper observes.

“How very astute of you,” you say. “Your friend was the smart one. You can still run; I’ll let you go. For now.”

“Not a chance.” The buzzing electrostaff twirls through the air as the Trooper lowers into a defensive crouch. “Surrender.”

“Not a chance,” you echo, matching his stance. “Now, why don’t—”

A voice, familiar and warm and distracting, shouts your name from above. Like a fool, you hesitate, turning. There’s a glimpse of coppery hair, a blue flame, and golden radiance. You growl at the interruption—

And cry out as the electrostaff comes down across your upper back, singeing into your clothing, biting into your skin.

You drop to your knees, vision blurry. Stupid. That was stupid.

The Purge Trooper immediately raises the staff for another strike, but before it can make contact with the back of your neck, a rush of energy steamrolls over you and shoves the trooper fifteen feet back. His heels dig into the soft dirt.

“Jedi!” If the trooper is surprised to see Cal Kestis coming to the rescue of the likes of you, you can’t hear it in his voice. “Guess this is my lucky day.”

“Don’t count on it,” you wheeze. Grunting in pain, you shove to your feet and reset, saber singing in the air, the smell of ozone stinging your nose.

Your name again, gentler this time, and closer. This time, you don’t turn, instead waiting for him to come to you. And he does, just like you knew he would. In the corner of your eye, Cal Kestis and his supernova signature provide something like...comfort. Heat bubbles and sputters in your chest at his closeness. This feeling is hate, you reassure yourself.

“You’re hurt,” he says, voice pitched low.

“I’ve had worse,” you say. “You here to help, or to mock?”

He fully faces you, and you sense more than see his eyes rake over your profile. With a shake of his head, his copper hair flowing nearly to his shoulders, he raises his saber, point-first, toward the Purge Trooper. With a satisfied smile, you swing your saber in lazy circles. Finally.

The two of you attack at the same time, nudged along by the Force. Together, you flank the trooper, whose training seems to have prepared him for a moment such as this. But for all the training this trooper has, you and Cal have more. You and Cal have more to fight for. More to lose. More to gain.

Cal’s blur of a blue saber slashes through the air, at every turn blocking the trooper’s pressing attack, forcing the Imp to recalibrate. And when he attempts to do so, tries to even catch his breath, you’re there, the Force driving your swings harder. You know the blows that land on the staffs jar the Imp’s wrists all the way to his shoulders. You know he’s going to falter. You know he’s going to die.

When the fear once again rises from this trooper, you smile.

Overconfident, you twirl, blade seeming to bend as it whirls through the air. It will connect with the trooper at his waist.

It does—but his staff connects with you once again at your own waist, and this time it bites into your flesh and holds.

“No!” Cal’s shout is harsh and angry. With a final flash of blue, the Purge Trooper slumps sideways, body collapsing into the dirt. The momentum yanks the electrostaff out of your side.

You drop your saber hilt to press against the bleeding wound, hands shaking. Kark, this hurts. Why does it hurt so bad? Cal’s face, with wide, scared green eyes, appears in your field of vision.

A spark of anger temporarily distracts you from the pain in your side and along your back. “Kestis,” you grind out. “I had it under control.”

“It’s in my nature,” he says, like that explains everything. You suppose it does. Your anger abandons you, and you stagger forward, into his embrace.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against you as he ducks under your arm, taking your weight. “C’mon, we’ll get inside and I’ll patch you up.”

“Got any more of those stims?” you ask, words slurring a little. You glance down at your side and blink dumbly at the amount of red staining your clothes.

“A few more,” Cal says. “They’re yours. Just need to get you inside.”

The several dozen feet to your hut pass in a blur and in a blink—you’re not sure which. Maybe it’s both. But you sigh as you settle down into the familiar comfort of your small cot. In the corner, you’re dimly aware of the Bogling cowering below the small kitchen table. Critter is cute, you suppose. Maybe it can stay.

You’re delirious. That has to be it. You’d never willingly take in a stray.

BD hops up on the cot next to you and, at Cal’s nod, ejects a glowing green stim canister. Cal catches it and then plunges the small needle into your side, just above the gash there. Cool relief tingles through you, and you smile at him.

“That feels good,” you mumble.

“I’m glad,” he says, an odd note in his voice. “You got medical supplies?”

You gesture vaguely to the screened-off back corner, your ’fresher. “If I do, s’in there.”

BD stays with you while Cal rummages through your meager supplies, the little droid’s head tilted to the side as though studying you. You blink at him.

Bwoop-beep? the droid chimes.

“I don’t speak Binary, sorry,” you say.

Cal chuckles, returning with a handful of supplies. “He’s wondering if you’re feeling okay.”

You feel okay enough to feel annoyed at the question, and you shoo the little droid off your bed. When you return your attention to Cal, he’s hesitating, a roll of gauze, bottle of alcohol, and a needle in his hands.

“What,” you ask, flatly.

“Need to take your shirt off to clean the wound properly,” he says, and if you knew him better, you might think he sounds nervous. Embarrassed, even.

But you don’t know him that well, and so you ignore his tone of voice. “Fine.”

You struggle for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, hissing as the movement pulls at the wound in your side. Once it’s off, you throw it toward the ’fresher.

Cal still hesitates, his eyes everywhere but on you. Another surge of annoyance flares in you, and you snatch the medical supplies out of his hands.

“I’d really like to not bleed out here, Kestis,” you admonish. He at least has the sense to look abashed at that, and assists you in cleaning out the wound, stitching it shut, and wrapping you in gauze to keep pressure on it. You don’t let out a single curse, hiss, or groan the entire time, making the inside of your mouth bleed with how hard you bite down.

“You okay?” he asks once you’re bandaged up.

“What do you think?” you retort. “M’gonna sleep. You can go.”

“I’ll stay,” he says. He withdraws, but remains in your small hut, slinging himself into the hand-hewn wooden chair at your dining table. “Rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Why?” You can’t help the way the question sounds equal parts frustrated and incredulous.

“Just sleep, Sith,” he says. His voice brooks no argument, and for once, you have none.

When you wake, it’s still light outside. Your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with gauze and left to dry out, your head not much better. With a soft groan, you roll onto your side and peer into the half-lit room.

Cal’s already watching you. His gaze meets yours and pierces you, pinning you to the small cot tucked against the wall. Swallowing against the dryness in your throat, you study his features. The dark scar across his face. The lean lines of his torso and muscles. The strand of fiery hair that curls over his forehead and teases his chin. Despite the lingering shards of pain in your side, heat flickers in your core.

“Why did you really come here, Cal?” you ask, voice low, the stillness around you demanding to remain unbroken. “Why did you come back for me at all? You know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve killed. I can’t be worth saving.”

He is quiet as he contemplates your question, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. Silence stretches between you, slow and languid, and you nearly hold your breath waiting for his response.

Eventually he gives a half shrug. “There was a time when I believed everyone is worth saving. Since the Empire, things have...been different. I’m not so sure everyone deserves to be saved.”

“So why come back?”

His eyes are soft when they find yours again. You want to be angry, want to latch onto the residual pain in your body and sharpen it into a vibroblade, hurl it outward from yourself and hope it hurts him as much as you’ve been hurt. In your gut, the darkness stirs, but in your heart, the light whispers patience.

“I see too much of myself in you to not come back for you,” he says, so quiet you nearly don’t process the words.

But when his confession does register, you blink in surprise. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you.

“We couldn’t be more opposite, Kestis,” you say. “Do you know what you look like, in the Force?”

When he remains silent, shifting in the wooden chair uncomfortably, you push yourself up into a sitting position. A sigh sloughs out of your throat.

“You’re the most...beautiful thing I’ve seen,” you say, hesitating only briefly over the words. “You shine. You’re a beacon of light. Stars, Cal, you’re practically a star yourself.”

His lips part in surprise, and you can’t ignore the way your core twists at the expression. “But—”

You raise a hand. “There’s darkness there, sure, but you are the light, Kestis. And sure, there may be light in me, but believe me, I’m a void. The void. You’ll never carry the sins that blacken my soul.”

His toned chest rises and falls with his rapid, shallow breaths. When he swallows, you watch the way his throat bobs, the muscles that strain at his neck, the tightening of his hands into fists. Without even needing to look, you can feel the way his Force signature roils with confusion and surprise. You’ve caught him off-guard, yet again. The knowledge sends a pulse of heat to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he whispers.

You frown, brows furrowing. “What?”

“In the Force,” he says. “Show me.”

“I’ve never—”

“I have a gift.” He grimaces. “Psychometry. It might not work. But I want to see.”

Ah. You understand how he knew the names of the Jedi you murdered, and glance at your saber hilt resting on the table near him. How much has he seen?

Apparently, not enough.

Worrying your lip between your teeth, you shrug. “Fine. C’mere.”

The cot groans under the added weight, not meant for two people, but it holds. You adjust yourself to sit with your legs crossed, your knees touching Cal’s as he mirrors your posture. A slight twinge tugs at your ribs as you move. Cal’s eyes soften again as you grimace.

“Don’t,” you grit out. “Save your pity.”

“It’s not—” He huffs. “Whatever.”

Glaring up at him through your eyelashes, you nevertheless rest your hands palm-up, fingers outstretched toward him. Cal gently rests his hands over yours. His skin is heated, electric where it touches yours. The thought crosses your mind, fleetingly, what your odds would be if you decided to finally end it here and now; the thought disappears as soon as his calloused fingers wrap around your forearms.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Feels right,” you reply in the same tone. “Here goes nothing, yeah?”

You inhale a deep, centering breath, and allow yourself to sink into the currents of the Force. For a moment you have to squint as Cal’s truest form explodes across your perception. This close, you’re surprised he doesn’t radiate any extra heat. You’re also surprised at the imperfections you find in his signature, the small nicks in the otherwise flawless, gleaming golden skin. You have to restrain yourself from leaning forward to examine him even closer. The desire to know him, to pick him apart and put him back together, rushes through you, pulsing in your fingertips.

When you feel adjusted to his presence, this close, this intoxicating, you squeeze his hands. Focusing on the places where the two of you connect—your palms, your knees, your signatures—you will your unique sight to bleed into his awareness.

Judging from the way he stiffens and gasps, you figure it worked. Your combined abilities and strength in the Force, overlapping just this once, let him see the world like you do.

“You’re so...” He trails off, voice strained. “Empty.”

“Thanks for noticing.” You squeeze his hands again. “Do you underst— oh.”

You nearly choke as the Force nudges against your mind. For a moment, you’re no longer in your hut, but instead on an unfamiliar ship, palms pressed against a stranger’s—no, not a stranger—her name drifts to you. Merrin. You’re comparing palm sizes with her, and her hands are nearly as big as yours—as Cal’s.

You rip away from Cal Kestis and the illusion breaks.

Heat burns up your neck to your face. “What the kriffing hell was that?”

“What did you see?” he asks, concern flashing in his eyes. He reaches for you, and you lean away, glaring.

You don’t even know why you’re angry. Any emotions you’ve felt for Cal have been ones you can explain: anger, frustration, begrudging respect, competitiveness, hatred. You recognize his attractiveness, and you don’t deny the effect his presence has on your baser desires—but the nearly painful flare of possessiveness pulsing in you right now is foreign. Inexplicable.

“It doesn’t matter,” you eventually mutter. “Did you see?”

“I saw you,” he says. Tentatively, he skims his fingertips over your leg, up to your knee. When you don’t retreat, he gently snags your hand and threads your fingers together. “I’m sorry.”

You bare your teeth and tug your hand away—or try to. His fingers tighten around yours, holding you in place. “I told you before, Kestis. I don’t need your pity.”

“Then don’t see it as pity,” he says. “See it as an understanding. A mutual experience.”

Sucking on your teeth, your jaw clenches for a moment before you sigh. “Fine. Who’s Merrin?”

“An old friend,” Cal says, a little too quickly. “She’s... She went her own way a while ago.”

Something like triumph glows in you. “Good.”

He fixes you with a confused look, a crease forming between his brows. “Wha—”

You cut him off, surging forward to press your lips greedily against his. The impulse to be closer to him, impossibly close, is overwhelming in this moment. His palm is warm and steady and grounding against yours. He grunts against you, going absolutely still.

When you pull away, not moving more than a few inches away, you meet the shock in his gaze with a sense of pride. His eyes flit between yours, searching. You drag your eyes down to his lips, parted and damp and so fucking pink.

His other hand cradles the back of your head and pulls you forward into another kiss.

You groan into his mouth. His lips are warm and soft and sweet against yours, moving slowly, uncertain. You tilt your head, nudging his nose with your own. With your free hand, you grip at his shirt and claw your way into his lap. You need more. More of him, more of his warmth, more of his touch, more more moremoremore.

He breathes your name against your lips, and you shush him gently. His body is hard and lean beneath yours, his touch hesitant. Fingers still intertwined, you guide his hand to your waist. Without the barrier of your shirt, his touch burns, scorching you from the outside in. His fingers splay across your skin, trailing molten desire in their wake. Heat pulses in your core.

“Kriff,” you sigh, “please.”

“Didn’t think you had manners,” he quips, trailing open-mouthed kisses across your jaw, down your neck.

You reach up and tug on his fiery hair, earning a low groan. “Rude.”

He chuckles against your skin, his lips brushing against a sensitive spot. A shiver dances up your spine, a quiet sigh passing your lips. When he bites down there, you moan.

“Kestis,” you pant.

“Shh,” he soothes. The hand on your waist trails down to your hip and squeezes in time with another bite to your skin. With another groan, you rock your hips down into him. A grin curls your mouth up in pleasure at the feeling of his half-hard cock beneath you.

“Off,” you order, tugging on his shirt.

He breaks away from you long enough to yank the offending article up and over his head. Your palms smooth over the rippling muscles beneath his pale, freckled skin of his stomach, and he shudders. Brushing your thumb over a blaster scar under his ribs, you press a kiss to his shoulder.

“Did it hurt?” you ask.

“I’ve had worse,” he says.

“Show me.”

His green eyes are dark, nearly black, when he meets your gaze with a questioning look. In response, you skim a featherlight trail over his torso, lingering at the scars that mar his otherwise perfect skin—mirrors, you realize, of the imperfections of his golden aura.

When you trace the pink scar that bisects his face, he shivers. His hand catches your wrist, halting your movement.

“That one,” he whispers, voice pained. “That was the worst.”

You recognize, this close, the telltale signs of a saber wound. He’s lucky to have survived that, you realize.

Kriff. You press your mouth to his once again, wrapping your legs around his torso. His body fits against yours, hard planes to soft edges, and you groan in unison. His kiss is still tentative, but he moves against you without hesitation when you deepen the kiss, your tongue licking across his bottom lip. His tongue is hot against yours. Spit slicking your lips, you groan into his open mouth.

Fuck, you need more. Pulling at his hair, you urge his head to tip back, exposing the pale column of his throat. You lick a stripe down his skin, tasting his natural saltiness, delighting in the way his cock hardens against your clothed core.

“Want you,” you mumble against his collarbone.

He hums. “I’m yours.”

That possessive flare from before practically obliterates any coherent thoughts your brain was still capable of producing. Growling, you push him onto his back, shuffling down, kissing and licking and biting at his skin as you fumble with his pants. The buttons come undone; his hips raise to help you shuck the clothing off. His cock bobs as it comes free of the confines.

“Oh fuck,” you moan. “Been holding out on me, Kestis.”

“If I’d known—” His voice cracks. “If I’d known all you needed was to be fucked, we coulda done this sooner.”

Tingles spark through your core hearing him curse—hearing him talk about something as base and dirty as fucking you. Stars, the heat in your core is nearly unbearable.

You need to taste him.

Wrapping your fingers around his heavy cock, you smear a droplet of precum over his flushed head. His body jerks in response, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you, a smirk playing at his lips. Without warning, you envelope him in your mouth. Cal cries out, hips jerking up. You moan in satisfaction around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink your mouth further down onto his length, before sucking, tongue teasing the underside of his head. One hand cupping his balls, you relax your throat and take him deep. The curls at the base tickle your nose.

“Oh stars,” he breathes. “You’re so good at that. F-Fuck.”

You hum, settling into a rhythm. His hand, broad and strong and warm, rests on top of your head—not pushing, just there, feeling you. His chest heaving, you can’t help but admire the flush rising to his cheeks, painting him in sin. Spit dribbles out of your mouth, coating the parts of him you can’t reach. Your eyes never leave his.

Snaking your free hand down your body, you moan at the pleasure that zings through you at the momentary relief of touching yourself.

“No.” Cal’s voice is strangled, strained. He flicks two shaky fingers, and your hand is yanked out from beneath your body by the Force.

An obscene pop echoes in your hut as you pull your mouth away from his weeping cock. “Either touch me, or I’ll do it myself,” you growl.

“Then c-come here,” he stutters.

Shimmying out of your pants, you discard the garments to the floor without a second thought and climb your way up his body. His hands skim your sides, his touch barely there, as your mouth reconnects with his. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of his mouth, his touch, his cock. He feels too good.

You hiss when his hand brushes against your aching sex. He breaks the kiss long enough for his eyes to find yours, a silent question there as his fingers find purchase at your core.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice. When he moves his hand against you, your vision blurs and you press your forehead to his.

“Stars, Kestis, just like that,” you hiss.

He rubs his nose against yours. “Let me take care of you.”

His touch is electric. Your body jerks against him when his fingers move just right, applying just the right amount of pressure. Heat and tension build in your belly, growing more and more taut by the second. Your legs shake on either side of his hips.

“Cal,” you whine. “Gonna cum.”

His touch retreats, and you whimper at the loss of contact.

“You’re g-gonna cum on my cock,” he promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. The sweetness of the action contrasts with the filth of his words, and your stomach lurches.

“Fuck, yes, okay.” You spit in your hand and reach down to make sure you’re ready for him.

He slicks his own palm with spit and jerks his cock once, twice, getting himself prepped. With his hand at his base, steadying his length, you slowly sink onto him. He splits you open inch by inch, the delicious burn of him in your core drawing a pitiful moan from your chest. When he bottoms out, you twitch in his lap, chest heaving.

“T-Take me so well,” he murmurs, ghosting his fingertips over your face. “Stars, you feel so- so good.”

You whine. “Cal.”

“I know, baby, I know.”

The pet name seems to surprise him as much as it does you. The heat that’s been simmering in your chest for months now, since the first time you encountered him, dulls into something...softer. More muted. More pliant.

Eyes locked together, you test the waters and raise your hips a fraction. Moans tumble from both of you at the friction, and that’s all you need. Rolling your hips, you work his cock, drawing the most delicious noises from him. He caresses your face, smooths a hand over your back, kisses you sweetly. You find just the right angle where his cock brushes against that bundle of nerves deep inside, and you shudder.

“Cal, I—”

“Yes,” he groans. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t. You drag your hips frantically against his, chasing the sparks bursting in your core with each thrust. His touch turns harsh as you ride him; your hips will surely bear bruises tomorrow in the shape of his fingertips. You moan at the thought. Mine. Mine mine mine mine.

Rutting against that raw piece of heaven in your core, you’re blind to everything else. Your injury forgotten, the empty void that yawns in your soul, your frustration with Cal Kestis: all of it is irrelevant right now. All that matters is that you keep fucking Cal. All that matters is the way his cock feels sliding in and out of you, dragging against your walls. All that matters is the way he moans your name like a prayer.

“Need you t-to cum,” he orders, words faltering as you clench around his cock.

“I’m close,” you say, voice hoarse. The tension in your belly draws hot and tight, ready to snap.

Cal finally thrusts up to meet you when you bounce down, and you scream. That taut cord in your belly releases, snapping in two, and you see white. Pleasure explodes through you; every nerve lit on fire, tears dew in your eyes from the intensity. You claw at Cal’s chest, searching for purchase as he absolutely rails into you, chasing his own release.

Through it all, he babbles. “J-Just like that, baby. Cum all over this cock. Fuck, you’re g-gonna make me— I— fuck, ngh, I’m—”

He stills as he cums, his cock pulsing against your walls, and you jerk at the sensation, oversensitive.

Your eyes flutter as you look down at him in the gathering darkness. His skin shines with a thin sheen of sweat. As his cock softens inside of you, letting some of his cum drip out, you groan softly.

“This was a mistake,” you whisper.

He swallows visibly, and nods. “I know.”

You capture his lips in another kiss, one he returns with a fervor. Stars, you almost wish you really did hate him. This would be so much easier.

“What now?” he asks, thumb brushing over your tender hips.

You shrug. “Same time next week?”

He huffs a laugh. “Very funny.”

“Thanks.”

He hums. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

All of the heat of the last few minutes dissipates immediately, and ice knifes your insides. You push away from him finally, his cum dripping down your inner thigh as you stand, bend to retrieve your clothes, tug them on.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say, Kestis?”

He sighs as he reaches for his own clothes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“You should have left when I told you to,” you say, arms crossed over your chest as you stare out the single window of your home at the rapidly falling dark.

“Yeah, maybe.” His hand is warm and familiar where he rests it on your shoulder. “You could...come with me.”

You narrow your eyes. “And have to live by your Jedi code? No thanks.”

“No code,” he says, quiet, contemplative. “Just the fight.”

“Just the fight,” you echo. When he nods, something you sense more than see, you sigh. “I could...tag along. Just this once.”

“Of course,” he says. His lips press against your temple. “Just this once.”

Swallowing against the strange metallic taste rising to your mouth, you blink and summon the Force. You’re grateful for Cal’s grounding presence behind you. Your signature is...muddied. Marbled black and gold. When you glance down at his hand on your skin, you find that his aura is the same as yours. Mixed. Confused.

Balanced.

Yes, you think. Hating him would have been easier.

#cal kestis x reader #cal x reader #cal kestis x gn!reader #jedi survivor spoilers #jedi survivor fanfiction #rhiplies #rhiwrites

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6lostgirl6 · 11 months

Text

Ties That Bind Part 1

Pairing: Yandere!Anakin Skywalker x Fem Jedi!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Kidnapping, Mentions of Murder

A/N: I am very excited to be sharing another wonderful collab with the amazing person @britany1997! She has been very supportive and an absolute joy to work with! We have shared many laughs together while working on this fic! She is a very talented writer and friend and you should send her your love! She deserves it! I love you Britany! ❤️

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweat pooled around Anakin as he sprang forward in bed, gasping in a haze of fear and anger. His head fell to his hands as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sleep had eluded him for months as every night ended the same, with visions of your corpse flashing through his tortured mind.

Anakin discarded his blanket in frustration, grabbed your picture from his work bench, and sat on the floor to meditate.

His brow furrowed as he attempted to squash his rage and uncertainty, to let them go and let the force fill him with the comfort he needed.

But to let go of his emotion, would be to let go of you.

Though he mumbled to himself, ‘there is no emotion, there is peace, there is no passion, there is serenity,’ he couldn’t make himself believe that. You were his peace, you were his serenity.

He abandoned his meditation in a huff. Anakin liked to think he was a patient man, a good Jedi. Yet how could he sit back and do nothing? The visions would never stop, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

Despite his failures at meditating and stopping his mind from whirling, he was struck by a solution. He was deep in concentration, staring at the ground, your picture nestled against his uncovered chest.

The visions would undoubtedly stop if he could protect you and keep you safe from harm. What if the force hadn't been working against him after all? He was immediately filled with purpose, a fire in his eyes that couldn't ever be extinguished. He will defend you even if it means doing the unthinkable and abandoning the Jedi code.

What other reason would there be besides protecting the one you loved the most, even if it required being selfish? Absolutely nothing was of greater significance than you, his long-time friend, whom he had been pining over for many years. The forbidden feelings he could no longer ignore. There was no greater reason, no other reason, than you.

It was all for love.

Despite the summons from the Chancellor, Anakin thought the Galaxies Opera House was well worth the journey through Coruscant. Though the visions of your impending death haunted him, Squid Lake, a strange ballet performed by a team of Mon Calamari acrobats, calmed his worries and enabled his mind to focus on something far more pleasant. He wished he could take you to one as lovers rather than as companions one day once you are away from harm. The Chancellor, however, required his attention once more.

His eyes were focused ahead as he said, "The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power." The Chancellor’s face bore a deep and serious expression.

“The Sith rely on their passion for their strength; they think inwards, only about themselves.” Anakin answered back firmly, turning his head towards him as he spoke.

“And the Jedi don’t?” asked the Chancellor, turning his attention towards Anakin without wavering, his eyes never leaving his face.

“The Jedi are selfless, they only care about others.” Anakin spoke strongly, turning his attention forward, just before the Chancellor continued to speak, making Anakin's blood run cold.

“Although they prevent you from loving freely in accordance with your own desires. They would never approve of your love for your friend or the things you would do for her.” He spoke with a voice filled with stomach-churning truth. “Your companion, (Y/N).”

Anakin turned to face the older man, his eyes wide with surprise as he whispered quietly. "How did you know-"

"I know many things, Anakin." He responded. "You say they are selfless and care about others. But what would the council say if they learned of your hidden desires, your affection that you have for your fellow Jedi?"

For once, Anakin couldn't speak because the Chancellor's words struck him deeply. His eyes were fixed on the opera playing ahead of him as he slowly sunk into his chair. He wasn't watching the event, though; instead, he was fixated on his thoughts, his visions of your approaching demise, and the possibility that the council would learn of his feelings for you. They'd shun him. He couldn't save you if they were in the way. His heart was pounding, and his mind was racing.

It was the Chancellor's voice that silenced his racing thoughts.

“You ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the wise?”

No, he would not let them stop him from loving you, from saving you.

Your saber clashed against Anakin’s as you traded swipes back and forth. He smirked as you narrowly missed his shoulder. You stuck out your tongue in reply.

It’d probably be easier to spar with someone else, you and Anakin had trained together as Padawans, practically grown up together. He knew every move you’d make before you could even think to make it. But, unfortunately for him, you could anticipate his every move as well.

You leaped as he swiped his saber at your feet, “missed again Ani,” you teased. You noticed a strange expression cross his face when you uttered his name, but it quickly vanished.

“You’re lucky today,” he smirked, “but luck runs out.” Anakin swiped his foot behind yours, causing you to tumble onto your back, he stood over you, lightsaber pointed towards your chest.

You groaned, “fine, I yield.”

He chuckled as he switched his weapon off and offered you his arm to pull you to your feet. “Better luck next time?” he teased.

“Ha ha,” you mumbled humorlessly, as you allowed him to pull you up.

"Let's not pretend you didn't cheat, Ani." You continued jokingly. You leaned over to grab your fallen lightsaber when you failed to notice the unknown expression resurfacing on his face. However, it did not completely disappear, his darkening eyes fixated on your body, images racing through his mind of scenarios unsuitable for a Jedi.

He adored it when you addressed him as such.

His expression returned to normal as you straightened up, and he had a mischievous smile on his face once again. "Never, ever underestimate your opponent." He chuckled as he extinguished his lightsaber and attached the hilt to his belt.

“Yeah, Yeah.” You replied, the smile refusing to vanish from your expression.

"Come now; I only tease." Anakin remarked softly, staring at you with a more genuine smile, one that could compete with the sun if he so desired. Since you were both padawans, he has consistently been an enchanting man. He had a way of charming himself out of most trouble and making one's heart feel like it was going to burst.

This was a secret you kept hidden within your heart for many years, the sentiments you had for Anakin that were more than just friendship. However, according to the Jedi code and attachment regulations, you did everything you could to drive those emotions away. Your feelings got less difficult to disguise as you practiced meditation and late-night self-reflection. In addition, you knew in your core that Anakin was an exceptionally gifted Jedi and that your affections for him were never going to be reciprocated.

“Everything alright?”

You recovered from your subconscious, glancing at Anakin as he stood directly in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern.

"Yes, I'm sorry." You replied before reactivating your lightsaber, your eyes bright with purpose and your smile returning. "Let's continue."

After many long hours of trading blows, you and Anakin were huffing, your foreheads drenched with sweat.

“Call it a night?” you asked as Anakin wiped his brow clean.

“Mhmm,” he hummed in reply, “it’s late, want an escort back to your quarters?”

You laughed. He didn’t.

“No Ani it’s fine,” you promised, “I think I can manage the couple of steps it takes to get there.”

“It’s on my way anyway,” he protested.

You shot him a confused expression, “on your way to where?”

“To the archives,” he told you nonchalantly, “I needed to look into something.”

Your brow furrowed, “look into what?”

He groaned, tugging gently at your arm, “just let me escort you.”

“Fine, fine,” you reluctantly caved.

He offered you his shoulder, a smirk painted on his face. You scoffed and punched his arm instead, causing a soft laugh to fall from his lips.

He smiled and shook his head at your stubbornness, you never made anything easy. But it didn’t matter, he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

The walk to your quarters passed quickly as you exchanged stories with Anakin. You clutched your stomach as tears rolled down your cheeks as he told you the story of his last battle with General Grevious. Anakin had spent so much time with Obi Wan over the years, Anakin’s impression of his sarcastic banter was spot on.

“Well this is me,” you joked, gesturing to your door. Anakin nodded but didn’t move to head towards the archives.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, “…so I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He seemed to snap from his momentary trance, “yes of course,” Anakin hesitated, “do you need anything else before I go?”

Your head cocked to one side, “no, not really.”

Walking you to your room had been strange in itself, this was ridiculous. “Ani…” you bit your lip, “are you ok?”

Anakin seemed taken aback by your sudden question, “of course,” he composed himself, “I better be off to the archives, I’ll see you for training in the morning.”

You watched him walk off before slipping into your room. You sat down to meditate, but you couldn’t rid your mind of Anakin’s weird behavior. Something wasn’t right.

You sighed, coming to terms with the fact that you would not be one with the force tonight and crawling into bed. As you drifted to sleep a thought popped into your head.

Weren’t the archives in the opposite direction?

Anakin sent a glass flying into his wall in frustration. He watched as it shattered, spraying shards onto the floor around his work desk.

He threw his head into his hands. He could monopolize your training time, walk you to your quarters every night, wake up early to be at your door every morning.

But it would only take one second, one second where he left you alone, one second where he wasn’t right by your side, one second and you were gone forever.

If he balled his fists any harder, his fingernails would slice the skin. He knew what he had to do. You might hate him for a moment, but he could live with that.

But if you died? There was no living if not with you.

The Jedi Temple was destroyed.

Your fellow Jedi were slaughtered in cold blood.

You could feel your heart frantically beating as you rushed through the halls of pure massacre, the walls forever tarnished by the horrors that had been committed. Fellow Jedi that you’ve trained with are lying on the floor lifeless, and some are in cauterized pieces. You felt like you could throw up at any moment, the hilt of your lightsaber held in your shaky grasp. You were in a state of delirium; your thoughts were filled with dueling lightsabers and people screaming in fear. However, there was one thing that was absolutely certain.

You needed to find Anakin.

‘Please, let him be safe.’ You thought to yourself as you managed to turn a corner, your other hand gripping your ribcage, your heart threatening to explode. ‘By the force, please protect him.’

You were anxious to find him, yet filled with dread. Your mind was racing with images of his form in pieces, his eyes lifeless without any warmth. It almost made the journey too much to bear.

You rounded another corner that led towards the entrance of one of the temple’s many great halls. As you pushed through the entrance, a heavy feeling filled your chest, and you were completely unable to go any further. Your eyes were wide, and you could feel your breath failing you.

As you gazed into the distance, you noticed a familiar figure, clad in a brown robe with a hood covering his face, that you had never failed to recognize, even at a distance. As the figure walked towards you, a large group of clone soldiers followed behind him, weapons drawn. In his hand was his own lightsaber, which he clutched tightly in his grasp.

Anakin.

"Ani!” You cried, disengaging your lightsaber and rushing towards him with tears in your eyes, prepared and ready to meet him with a sense of relief.

You threw your arms around him, tears rolling down your face as you sobbed. He returned your embrace, arms wrapping around the small of your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Ani,” you muttered between sobs, “I’m so glad you’re ok, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

He tightened his grip on your waist, holding you close, “I know what you mean…”

You sniffled as you tried to gather yourself, “Anakin, so many lives…” you hiccuped, “what happened.”

“Only what needed to.”

“What?” you exclaimed as you looked up to meet his eyes.

The sight of his blood stained face made you gasp. No. This wasn’t the Anakin you knew. This couldn’t be happening.

But it was. The man you’d carried a torch for all these years, your best friend and confidant, stood before you, clothed in the blood of your friends.

You pushed against his chest, trying to escape from his grasp but he refused to let you go. He held you tightly against him with one arm, using his other hand to brush hair from your face affectionately. A gesture that once would have made you blush now filled you with malice.

“I know you don’t understand now, but you will my love,” he whispered, “now sleep.”

“Anakin…no…” you fought a losing battle to keep your eyes open. You were strong in the force, but Anakin was stronger.

Your head lulled to the side as you fell asleep in his arms.

Taglist:

@prettywhenibleed @leiasolo77 @britany1997 @misslavenderlady @arianamhm @rottent33th @slaasherslut

745 notes · View notes

geekforhorror · 10 months

Text

love to hate you

pairing: rots!anakin x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), PURE FILTH, hate fucking, p in v sex, oral sex, penetration, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex, metal hand kink, riding, degradation, name calling, etc.

word count: 1.8k

You quite frankly wondered how you ended up in this situation— fucking your nemesis in his own quarters, but it was simple. Today had been like every other day with him. The two of you had another disagreement on something so stupid. The tension between you two at the time had been so thick, causing you guys to end up in the current situation.

“I fucking hate you so much,“ Anakin seethes as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

“I hate you more,” you say angrily.

“Such a fucking brat who can’t even keep her damn mouth shut,” he replies before pushing you against the wall with one hand on your waist and the other cornering your face so you couldn’t move.

“I could say the same thing about you,” you let out.

“You’d sound much better with my tongue down your throat so you can’t talk back as much,” Anakin says with a fucking cocky smirk. Asshole.

“You seem to be all bark and no bite,” you retorted.

“Oh yeah?” he asks before jamming his tongue down your throat. You found yourself not rejecting the kiss and you were confused as to why. The both of you were searching for new territory in each other’s mouths like your guys’ life depended on it. You didn’t dare to make a snarky remark, which boosted Anakin’s pride. “That’s what I thought,” he says smugly.

He makes you think he’s going to do more, but he connects his lips to your neck and starts attacking your skin. You wince at the sudden contact, but it later turns into pleasure.

“Fuck… Anakin…” you breathily let out.

“You like this, huh?” he asks even though he already knew the answer. He thought you were pathetic. He thought you were pathetic because of how little it took for you become a mess, but maker, did he love it. He picks you up while you’re still on the wall and tells you to wrap your legs around his waist. You do as he says and he takes his glove off his metal arm. You knew what was coming. He undoes your slinky Jedi robe before also undoing your pants. He slides your pants off you, leaving you partially exposed to him. Before you know it, he slides his hand underneath, slowly making his way towards your clothed heat. When he finally found what he was looking for, he grew cocky when he felt how drenched your panties were, despite him barely doing anything.

“What do we have here sweetheart?” he questions with a chuckle.

You couldn’t possibly answer him right now in your vulnerable state. I mean, he just felt your damp panties.

“Don’t be shy… say something,” he says with a cheshire grin. In that moment, he comes up with a brilliant idea that would make you have to make a noise for him. And maker, was it a good one.

With one hand, he pulls the lacey garment down your thighs until they pool at your ankles. You step out of your panties and he throws them across his room. He slowly slides his fingers in your soaked cunt and you feel your pussy stretch a bit to the point where it was pulsing around his slender fingers. He curls them perfectly inside you, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“You just love my fingers inside you, don’t you?” he asks rhetorically. No answer. He takes it upon himself to push his fingers even deeper inside your soaked walls due to your inability to answer him.

“Don’t you?” he grits.

“Y-Yes,” you let out.

“Now how hard was that? You could’ve answered me the first time,” he implores.

“I’m sorry Ani,” you reply.

Before you know it, he pulls his fingers out of you, now undoing the buckle on his flowy pants before discarding the garments all together. Here he was now, only in his boxers. You were shocked to see the bulge in his boxers and you knew it was huge.

“Like what you see?” he asks.

“Get over yourself, prick,” you say with an eye roll.

“I can’t wait to fucking ruin that mouth of yours and put you in your fucking place,” he says with a hint of anger in his voice.

He finally removes his undergarment and steps out of it. You didn’t dare look at his dick because it would make him even more of a cocky bastard and you sure as hell didn’t need that to happen.

He climbs onto his bed and towers over you, his breath now hitting your face. He was a total ass, but maker, he was fucking beautiful. It infuriated you all the time, especially right now. He reaches for the clasp of your bra and unhooks it, resulting in it falling to the floor.

He positions his cock accordingly in your face and without warning, he inserts inches of his length inside your mouth. Unprepared for the feeling, you catch yourself slightly gagging around him.

“Fucking take my cock inside that filthy little mouth of yours,” he grunts.

You felt the precum leaking from his tip onto your tongue. You had never taken someone so long into your mouth and it was a new experience for you. You decided to rile him up and start pursing your lips slowly around the tip. Eventually, you started making your way toward the base of his cock, causing him to let out inaudible sighs.

“Just like that, you fucking cock slut,” he breathily says.

You didn’t know what it was about him degrading you that made you so turned on, but fuck, it did something to you.

Instead of taking more of him into your mouth over time, he pushed the rest of his length into you before finally thrusting in your saliva coated mouth. You whined around him and started salivating greedily around him. He could get used to this.

“Fucking whore is whining now, huh?” he asks, already knowing the answer and the fact that you couldn’t talk back.

His balls hit the back of your throat and you can’t stop gagging because of how big his cock was. Here he was now, fucking the shit out of your mouth and he enjoyed the sight of it.

“You’re so bi- big… Please cum in my mouth. I fucking need it. Need you,” you whimper.

“I’ll cum when I want to. In the meantime, shut your damn mouth,” he orders of you.

Asshole. You decide to speed the process by swirling your tongue around the most sensitive part of him, which was fairly easy to find. He throws his head back at the feeling which only makes him buck harder into your mouth, causing an unexpected release. His release splashes all over your tongue and before you can do anything, he brings his hand to your mouth, closing it.

“Now swallow my cum since you wanted it so badly,” he orders.

You oblige to his demand and swallow the fluid in your mouth, taking in every last drop of his salty release.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he coos.

“Anakin?” you ask.

“Yes?” he replies.

“Please fuck me already,” you order of him.

“Eager, huh?” he asks.

You nod at Anakin’s question and you hope it’s a good enough of an answer. You wanted…No you needed him so much in this moment to the point where your stomach was aching and so was your cunt. You needed every inch of him.

“Use your words, baby,” he tells you.

That fucking name.

“I want you inside me, Ani,” you manage to say.

“That’s better,” he says with a smirk.

He gives you no time to adjust to his size and rams his cock in you. You gasp at the sensation and you can feel yourself become even more needy for him. Without wasting any precious time, he starts to thrust mercilessly into your tight cunt.

“Fuck Ani-,” you let out with a whimper.

This was going to be fun.

He grunts at the feeling of your cunt around his cock and throws his head back, not slowing down his pace whatsoever. You felt him hollow out your insides with his cock and you couldn’t get enough of it. How could your nemesis do something this passionate with you when you guys had always been at each other’s throats for years? You couldn’t about that right now because of how cock drunk you had become. Here you were, only being used as a fuck toy for him, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“Such a good little slut for me,” Anakin says in a gritted voice. You dig your nails into his defined shoulders, which only eggs him on further. He saw the way your tits bounced with each thrust he made inside of you and he swore he was in heaven. He decides to take it one step further by having you throw your legs over his shoulder, now replacing your hands. You prepare yourself this time and you let your hands rest on the silky bed sheets. His cock once again enters your throbbing cunt and you grasp the sheets like your life depends on it. He continues to slam himself further into your needy walls and you let out the most whiny moans he’s ever heard. Anakin somehow manages to find a sweet spot inside your pussy, making you feel the heat starting to form in your stomach. You feel him splitting you open leaving you no choice but to throw your head back in ecstasy.

“This pussy was fucking made for me. Only I can fuck you like this,” he says breathily.

“I- I’m so close,” you whimper.

“Oh yeah?” Anakin asks with amusement at which you frantically nod your head at.

“I don’t know if you deserve to cum, darling,” he tuts.

“Please Ani,” you say with tears as he’s still seated inside you, his cock throbbing inside your loose cunt.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” Anakin says before continuing to fuck you like his own personal rag doll. His pace doesn’t seem to falter even when he was close himself. He bottoms out before you know it and you feel the both of you release all over each other. Your orgasm rips through you and it makes you see stars.

“Fuck… Felt so good,” he admits, sliding out of you shortly after. Both of you manage to catch your breath before saying anything more. “This changes nothing, you got it?” he says. You and Anakin both grab your appropriate garments, wanting to change as soon as possible.

“Believe me dick, I know it doesn’t,” you retort as the both of you change back into your Jedi attire.

“Watch it,” he warns you.

“Whatever,” you say before leaving his quarters, not letting him have the last word for once.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin star wars #hayden christensen #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #anakin smut #revenge of the sith #anakin x y/n #anakin fluff

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vodika-vibes · 3 months

Note

May I please get a Tech x Jedi!Reader with a glimpse before and after Order 66. Techs POV where after figuring out that the jedi are being hunted becomes worried. Im thinking White Clover and Pansy and maybe angst/fluff? :>

ps i love your work and i cant wait to read anything you make, youre amazing :3

A Promise Made

Summary: You and Tech, before Order 66 and after.

Pairing: TBB Tech x F!Reader

Word Count: 2983

Warning: Angst, Reader survived Order 66 and has totally understandable trauma regarding that

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I'm still not sure if I'm writing Tech well, but I haven't got any complaints.

“Is there a reason you are laying on me?” Tech asks as he looks down at the Jedi sprawled across his lap, her gaze locked on the datapad in her hand.

“I don’t get to spend nearly enough time with you, and this is the best way to keep you from accidentally ignoring me.” She replies lightly, “Why? Are you uncomfortable?”

“No. I am just concerned that you might get hurt.” Tech answers easily.

“So be careful and you won’t hurt me.”

He rolls his eyes expressively, though because she’s not looking at him, she doesn’t notice. “What are you working on, cyare?”

“Master Windu asked me to reverse engineer a Seppie weapon, and I’m starting to think that this weapon was designed by an actual child.” She says with a sigh as she drops her datapad and presses her forehead against his thigh.

Tech smiles at the back of her head, “Would you like me to take a look?”

At that she laughs and rolls over so that her head is resting on his lap and she’s looking up at him, “I know you have better things to do, Tech.”

He sets his own project to the side, and gently brushes her hair out of her face, “I do not mind putting it aside to help you.”

She reaches up and presses her hands against his, lightly rubbing her cheek against his gloved hand. “That’s because you’re amazing.” She praises, “But it’s okay, Tech. I can figure it out. I always do.”

Tech smiles at her adoringly.

When he was a cadet on Kamino, he believed that this kind of happiness was beyond him. He did not understand why his brothers, including his batchmates, were so laser focused on finding someone to spend their time with. He thought that it was little more than a distraction.

That was until he met her.

She had been brought to Kamino at the request of General Ti, and the first time Tech saw her, he didn’t think she was a Jedi. He thought she was a natborn who had been tasked with maintenance of the various vehicles stored on Kamino.

She was clever and quick witted, and while his twin claimed that she wasn’t going to win any beauty pageants, on account of the fact that she tended to have oil on her face and staining her hands, and she didn’t seem to care about things like appearance, Tech thought that she was stunning.

They developed a quick friendship, bonding over their mutual love of technology.

Tech honestly had no idea that she was a Jedi at all, not until he saw her dressed up in Jedi robes rather than her normal grease covered jumpsuit, and talking to General Ti like it was her right.

The conversation that happened after that isn’t one that Tech is proud of. He had been hurt that she hid such an important part of her from him, and he lashed out. She was offended that he thought that she was hiding it, claiming that she never hid anything from anyone, and that it wasn’t her fault that he didn’t know that she was a jedi.

The disagreement turned into a full blown argument, and Tech didn’t talk to her for over two months. It took Hunter and Crosshair teaming up to make him see that he was being bull-headed and stubborn, and it was the encouragement of Wrecker that forced him to go to her and apologize.

At the time, he had been worried that she was going to hold a grudge, but she didn’t. Instead she just smiled and laughed, and told him that she forgave him, and then she showed him what she was working on.

Soon after that, Tech realized that he was thinking about her all the time. When he was in training, when he was reading, even when he was about to go to sleep; her smile, the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs, the way she pushes her hand through her hair when she’s contemplating something complicated-

He found himself looking forward to spending time with her, even if they’re just working in the same room.

It was Crosshair who pointed out the obvious, with a roll of his eyes as he flipped through a magazine. “You’re obviously in love with her, dumbass.” He drawled without looking up from the glossy pages of the blaster magazine that he got from somewhere, “It’s a perfect match, you’re both annoying little shits.”

Tech wanted to argue with him, partly because he feels the urge to argue with his twin about everything, but he found the words turning to ash on his tongue. Because, annoyingly, he was right.

Tech was in love.

He became awkward and nervous around her, babbling about random things that he learned, and through it all, she watched him with a small smile, and often asked questions about his latest hyperfixation.

And then, late one night, she kissed him.

A gentle press of her lips against his. It was innocent and chaste, and yet it sent fire through his veins. She didn’t say anything after the kiss, she just watched him and waited, seeming to understand that Tech would need a moment to process.

And then he kissed her, and suddenly he understood exactly why his brothers desire this so much.

“Tech?” He snaps back to the present at the worried call of his name, and he glances down at her face, “There you are. You were lightyears away.” She teases.

“I was thinking about you.”

“Oh? Nice things, I hope.”

He laughs, “I always think about you, cyare. You occupy my thoughts at all times.”

“Well, that sounds annoying.”

“Not at all,” Tech lightly guides her until she’s sitting up and he presses a series of light kisses to her cheek and across her jaw, “I find that it is the most enjoyable part of my day.”

“Well, you’re easy to please, aren’t you?” She teases as she leans into his affection.

“My brothers tell me that I am very hard to please, actually.”

“Well, they’re not me.” She turns her head and kisses him quickly, “So you know, you’re constantly in my thoughts too.”

Tech laughs softly and presses a series of light kisses across her face, “I am glad.”

She grins at him, and shifts to sit on his lap, her hands coming up to cup his face, “Tech, I…” She pauses, and her gaze flickers to the side, “I want you to know that I have to return to Coruscant for a couple of weeks. I would like it if you commed me?”

Tech has a feeling that that’s not what she was going to say, but he lets it go, “Of course I will. So much that you will get tired of me.”

She laughs, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“You never know,” Tech kisses her one more time, “When do you leave?”

“Two days.”

“Well then, we had better spend that time together.”

It has been three weeks and four days since the day that the Clones turned on the Jedi. And somehow, you’re still alive. Which, in and of itself, is a damned miracle.

You press your hand over your side, a slow hiss of pain escaping your lips as you move the wrong way and the hole in your side twinges painfully.

When the clones marched on the workshop, you had been in the back, working on one of the protocol droids. You managed to escape while the older jedi tried to fend off the soldiers, but you still took a blaster bolt to the side.

Not to mention, you’re still reeling from the loss of your friends, your family.

You push the pain into the force, and take a moment to tighten the bandages around your side, before you continue your trek. It’s not safe for you anywhere.

And as much as you want to comm Tech and beg him to come and help you…you know that you better not. Tech is a clone after all. And if he pulled a blaster on you, you’d probably just let him kill you, honestly.

No. It’s safer this way.

Though, the galaxy is a much lonelier place now.

Time passes quickly, when you’re on the run. And before you know it, 6 months have passed.

You’re…surviving as best you can, all things considered. You managed to find a medic who treated your blaster wound in exchange for some simple maintenance work, and you managed to earn employment on a cargo ship.

Though, really, you mostly just bounce from ship to ship, from planet to planet, as much as you can. You don’t stay in the same place for longer than a few weeks, fearing that the empire will find you.

You take comfort from the memory of your family, and from Tech. You cling to those memories, as they’re the only thing that keep you going. And sometimes, at night, you allow your mind to linger on Tech, on what could have been.

It’s easier now, though.

After six months, you no longer feel like the Empire is breathing down your neck, and for all you know, you’ve been reported dead. You don’t dare to look, fearing that if you look and you weren’t, then the Empire will start looking for you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you know that, but it’s an anxiety that you can’t seem to shake.

“Hey, Kid!” You jump as the ship captain, your current employer, claps your shoulder with a heavy hand, “Me an’ the boys are going to the bar. Wanna join us?”

“Ah…no thank you. Trying to stay sober,” You say with an easy smile, “You guys have fun.”

“Right, sorry kid. I forgot. You keep up that sobrarity! We’re rooting for you.”

You smile at him, feeling momentarily guilty. Your story, the one that you’ve been using since the purge, is that you’re a recovering alcoholic, and that’s why you want to work on ships, to avoid temptation.

It’s not true. But it keeps people from hounding you to go drinking with them. And, more than one of the people you’ve worked with over the past few months have bemoaned your “parents” for not helping you with your addictions.

It’s almost like having a family again.

Almost.

You step off the cramped ship into the cool evening air, wanting to stretch your legs for a bit, when you hear a familiar voice and feel a familiar presence in the force.

“Hey, that person might know!” You’d recognize Wrecker’s force presence even if you were doped up on force suppressors, and the child standing next to him has the same overall feel as all of the chones.

Your blood runs cold. Wrecker will recognize you. How could he not?

He approaches you, and your mind goes blank. Your fingers twitch towards your lightsaber, hidden in your sleeve. You don’t want to hurt Wrecker. But you will if you have to.

“Excuse me, miss?” The child stops in front of you, and you look down at her. Blonde hair, wide brown eyes…she’s a clone, no doubt about it. “Me and my brother are looking for a specific shop-”

“I…I’m sorry, I’ve never been here before.” You keep your voice low, in the hopes that Wrecker won’t hear you. But you know there’s not a chance of it, not with how close he is to you.

Surprise flashes across his face, followed by joy, “It’s you! Tech has been worried sick! We all have-” He takes a step towards you, and you scramble backwards, grabbing your saber and lighting it with the comforting snap.

“Stop! Just…just stop.” You sputter, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

Wrecker stops, “Right. Okay.” He pulls Omega back, “No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Sure.”

Wrecker slowly sends a message to his brothers, and then holds his hands out, showing that he’s unarmed.

Tech, Hunter, and Echo run up only moments later, and Hunter has to grab Tech from running over to you.

“It is just us, cyare.” Tech says, pulling himself away from Hunter, “We are not going to hurt you.”

Your lightsaber is crossed across your body defensively, and slowly you reach out to the force, looking for the, arguably, most dangerous member of the CF99 at the moment. “Where’s Crosshair?” You ask.

“He is…not here.” Tech says quietly.

“You expect me to believe that your own twin isn’t here, I’m not that dumb, Tech.”

“He…” Tech falters, “Listen, his chip activated, ours didn’t. So when we defected, he didn’t.”

“What chips? What are you talking about?” You demand, and their faces fall.

“You…don’t know.” Hunter says quietly, “Stars, you must have thought we turned on you for no reason-”

“It would be nice to know what crime my people committed to deserve to be slaughtered down to the smallest baby, yes.” You bite out.

“It wasn’t…there…” Echo trails off and he takes a deep breath, “Tech, you need to talk to her. Just, tell her the truth. All of it. She’s a jedi, she’ll know if you’re lying.”

Tech nods, and he steps in front of his brothers, his gaze locked on you, “I am going to tell you everything that I know,” He says quietly, and then he starts talking.

And slowly, as he explains, you lower your saber and then turn it off. And by the time Tech finishes his story, you’re sitting on a small crate with your face in your hands. “My people were slaughtered by your brothers because Palpatine stole their free will from them?”

“Yes.”

Both of your hands fist in your hair, “...’m sorry for drawing my saber on you.”

Tension drains from the men standing across from you, and the next thing you know, Tech’s hands are on your shoulders, “It is okay. You had every right to be concerned.” He kneels in front of you, “Are you injured?”

“I was shot at the temple, but that was months ago.” You say quietly.

“And…you are alright?”

“No.” You whisper, “It’s a very lonely galaxy, Tech.”

Tech raises himself enough to press a kiss to your forehead, “You do not have to be alone. You can travel with us. Right, Hunter?”

“Of course.” Hunter replies immediately.

“See.”

“That’s kind of you, but I know your ship isn’t that big.”

“With the both of us, we can retrofit.” Tech offers, “We can make room for all of us.” He takes your hands in his, “Please do not leave.”

“You won’t be safe if I travel with you. I’m a Jedi.”

“We are not safe anyway.” Tech points out, “Please, cyare? I promise that we will be safer together.”

You sigh, and very gently squeeze his hands, “Yeah, okay. The crew that I’m a part of now won’t be surprised if I decide to leave without warning.”

“Truely?”

“I have something of a reputation.” You reply dryly.

“...it has been 6 months.” You shrug, and allow Tech to tug you to your feet, before he wraps you in a tight hug. “I feared you were dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tech’s gaze lingers on her as she dozes in his bunk, his fingers are tangled in her hair as he silently offers her comfort.

She doesn’t look healthy.

She’s too thin, her clothes hang off of her, and the circles under her eyes are dark enough that it looks like she has bruises around her eyes. She hasn’t been eating properly, obviously, and Tech wonders if it’s because of grief or fear.

And there’s no way he’s ever going to forget the look in her eyes when she saw them again. Dread, fear, terror-

He never wanted her to look at him like that again.

Tech smooths his hand down her spine, and carefully adjusts the blanket so it’s tucked under her chin.

He knew the moment that the regs turned on General Billaba, that his cyare was in danger. The dread had been like a lead weight in his stomach. And while he would have spoken to Crosshair about it, he could tell that there was something wrong with his twin.

Not to mention, Crosshair had never been her biggest fan in the first place.

So he bit his tongue, and kept an eye on the list of deceased Jedi, and he hoped.

It wasn’t very logical.

But the longer he didn’t see her name, the longer he had hope that she was still alive.

She shifts in his bed, rolling over to press her face against his thigh, and Tech presses his hand against the back of her head. The Marauder really isn’t big enough to add another adult, so she’s going to have to share with him for the time being.

Which isn’t half as much of a problem as he’s making it out to be, nothing would make him happier than waking up with her in his arms, but the last thing he wants is for her to forget where she is and freak out.

Luckily, the dread he felt when he heard about the jedi being hunted has faded into something much easier to handle, now he just has the sinking dread of having to help her deal with the trauma of surviving a massacre.

Easy.

Tech glances down at his datapad, and settles back against his pillow as he starts to read on how to help people process trauma.

If he can’t get his cyare to a mind healer, then he’ll just have to become one himself.

Tech glances at her one more time as her fingers curl in the soft material of his pajama bottoms, and he smiles at her sleeping face. He gently brushes some hair out of her face, “I promise,” He whispers, “I am going to take care of you.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes follower celebration #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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