#sw fanfiction

[ichorai]

would that i ; din djarin.

track twelve of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; din djarin x gn!reader

synopsis ; din didn’t consider himself a very jealous person. no, he wasn’t affected at all when the kid seemed to want to spend more time with you than him. not even a little bit.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; fluff, mild pining, kinda sunshine & grump trope

warnings / includes ; grogu eats a frog, mando gets v flustered, reader jokingly calls him daddy lol

main masterlist.

Bag hitched over your shoulder, you tugged on your hiking boots, bending over to double-knot the laces. “Hey, I’m going out to the market to grab some spare parts for the ship,” you called to the brooding Mandalorian in the cockpit. You were met with a quiet grunt in response. Finished with your shoes, you straightened yourself up and peeked your head into the front of the ship, watching Din work on some frayed wires by the control panel. “I’m taking the kid with me.”

This made him halt in his ministrations, and he turned to you. “Isn’t it easier if he just stays with me? Keep him here.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you nodded stoutly. “Alright, lemme ask him. Hey, bub,” you cooed, picking up the tiny creature from his floating carrier and setting him on the ground, equidistant between the two of you. Grogu peered at you with wide eyes, before rounding his head to look up at Din, then looked to you once more. He let out a garbled noise of confusion. “You wanna go to the market with me or stay with Mr. Grump over there?”

Silent, Din watched as Grogu began waddling towards you, seemingly excited at the prospect of going out to explore. 

With a hum of satisfaction, you scooped the kid up into your arms, shooting the masked man a victorious smirk, before striding towards the exit. 

“Be back before sunset!” he barked out, earning him a mock salute from you, then proceeded to incoherently grumble under his breath about how going to the market was really a one-person job, whilst fixing up the banged up ship definitely required more than a single pair of hands.

Clementine flames licked at the air greedily, crackling as Din tossed another wedge of wood into the fire. The setting sun cast long shadows over the secluded, wooded area your little group was hunkering down in, sparsely lit with the heated glow of the fire and the cold luminescence of the distant stars in the sky. You sat on the opposite end of the fire, blowing warm air into your palms to ebb away the numbing cold sewn into your skin.

The kid was snuggled up to your side, cooing as he tried to grab floating embers of the fire that drifted past him, carried away with the frigid night breeze.

Din studied the two of you, his mask betraying no expression whatsoever. Though Din was a man of few words, he was also a man of keen observations, always entirely aware of his surroundings. He noticed the way the orange of the fire tinted your skin with a near angelic glow, how the rustling of leaves behind him seemed to perfectly accompany your tinkering laugh as you smiled at the kid’s ministrations, how your eyes brightened with all the galaxy’s light within your irises. 

His attention was reluctantly drawn away from you when the kid waddled off to the side, having spotted a bulbish frog—which, presumably, looked like a tasty snack to him. 

With a gentle smile, you got up and circled around the fire to sit beside him, foliage crunching beneath your haunches as you settled down. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, just audible enough to hear over the pops of the flames. “You’re thinking so loudly.”

There was a moment of silence, the quiet weighing heavily over the both of you.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally. “Nothing to worry about.”

Not wanting to pry, you hummed in thought, about to tell him that you’d be all ears if he had something to say, but promptly held your tongue when you caught sight of the kid swallowing the poor one-eyed frog whole.

“Spit that out!” both you and Din ordered at the same time. You glanced at each other, and your shoulders shook as you began to laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling with such genuinity that was rare to find these days. 

You couldn’t see it, but a trace of a smile slowly appeared behind Din’s helmet.

The kid had finally fallen asleep—it took hours of you setting him firmly on your lap and telling him to shut his eyes until he began to relent, curled against your stomach and stealing your body warmth. Sleep was tugging at your own sleeves, whispering gentle static into your ears and weighing down your eyelids. 

Din had passed by the two of you multiple times as he tended to the many laborious upkeeps of the ship, silent as a ghost, but his mere presence was loud enough for you.

It was only when the ship’s door slid open did you startle out of your half-unconscious state, blearily rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You glanced down at the small form on your lap, gently patting his little wrinkled head. 

Carefully, you got to your feet and lowered Grogu into his floating carrier, tucking him into a mottled brown blanket with nimble fingers. The kid stirred mildly at the jostling movement, but settled down when you hushed him quietly.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t spring awake and scamper out of his carrier to swallow down more frogs, you left the ship, sliding the door shut behind you.

The night’s chill was stronger than it had been a couple hours ago, the cold steeping into your muscles and freezing your bones. The moon bathed the forest in a hazy, pearl-hued luminescence, reflecting softly against Mando’s armor. He was watching the vast, dark forest, broodingly quiet. You came to stand beside him, shivering slightly.

“Done with all your little errands?” you asked, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. You took his silence as an affirmative. “You really like keeping yourself occupied, huh?”

More silence. In the distance, a frog croaked.

“I would’ve been more than happy to help you if you’d asked, by the way. You didn’t have to do all that by yourself. I used to be a mechanic, you know?”

Din risked a glance to you, holding his breath for reasons unbeknownst to him. You looked awfully serene basking in the sweet cold of the night, which made his chest ache with a tender kind of longing he couldn’t quite put his finger on. A life he knew he couldn’t have, perhaps.

He tore his eyes away before he could dwell on that thought too much.

“What are you doing out here? It’s real cold out,” you murmured, angling your head to look at him. It sometimes frustrated you just how unreadable he was—not even considering the mask, he rarely ever gave anything away with his body language. You wondered what went on in his head. “Are you okay?”

For the first time since you came out, Din spoke. It was tentative and slow—fittingly cautious in nature. His voice sent a thrill up your spine—it wasn’t often that the two of you would genuinely converse about something other than the ship’s upkeep. “The kid likes you.”

A surprised look splintered through your expression. Of all things you expected him to say, that most certainly wasn’t one of them. “Well, yeah, I’d hope so. I love the little guy, even though he eats like a starved wampa.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the beginnings of a smile painting across the corner of your lips. “Oh, maker, you’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Before he could formulate a proper response, you stepped closer to him with a teasing glint to your eyes that he misliked. You patted his chest in mock-comfort.

This close, he could see the fine details of your features much more clearly—he noticed the small, faded scar across the bridge of your nose, slightly darker in color than the rest of your complexion, he noticed the soft curve of your cupid’s bow, and he noticed the slight arch to your eyebrows, as if expecting him to say something.

Oh, right. He should probably say something.

Din flushed hotly beneath his helmet, finding himself at a loss for words. 

“I’m sure the kid loves you just as much, if not more than, he loves me,” you surmised, still with a teasing lilt to your words. “After all, we both know he considers you his guardian—if he could talk, he’d definitely be calling you father. Or, actually, that might be too formal for him—maybe daddy, or something. Pops, even.”

Din huffed, amused. “The kid wouldn’t call me daddy,” he deadpanned, finally finding his tongue. 

You beamed devastatingly gleeful, and he could just about feel his heart disintegrating into sand and spilling through the crevices of his ribs. 

“Why not? I think it suits you.” You shrugged, still grinning so wide it was a wonder your face hadn’t split into two. Oh, you were going to be the death of him one day. “I’m gonna head back in—I’m freezing my ass off out here. Good night, Din. Or should I say daddy?” You barked out a laugh, clearly pleased with your little joke, before trudging away from him, chortling to yourself along the way.

Din watched as you slipped back into the ship, your words ricocheting in his head over and over again. He exhaled heavily. 

He was digging himself a deep hole here—and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to stop.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #din djarin fluff #din djarin x you #star wars fanfiction #din djarin imagines #din djarin drabbles #din djarin angst #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian x reader #sw fanfiction #sw fanfic #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕔𝕦𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱQᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴜʜ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ʏᴇᴀʜ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

⋆ ★ *ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ* ʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪ ɢᴜᴇꜱꜱ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter

Hunter gets overheated/stimulated easily due to his heightened senses so he doesn’t cuddle for very long in pressed together positions.

BUT he likes proximity, being able to hear your breath and heartbeat, seeing every little dimple and curve of your body, knowing you are here and you’re his.

So he will press his head to your chest to listen to your heartbeat and relax with the rise and fall of your chest.

And if you run your hands through his hair you’ll coax the most blissful sighs out of him.

Tech

He’s fidgety, so staying in one cuddling position is a struggle. Always needs to readjust because one spot can get uncomfortable and awkward very quickly.

It gets tedious, especially at night in bed when both of you are grueling to sleep.

However, he’ll try his best for you.

Likes to tangle all his limbs with yours; legs, arms, fingers as your interlock and hold hands, etc.

Also traces and rubs patterns into your skin or over your clothes absentmindedly. You’re his favorite fidget toy.

Might ramble to you. Whether or not you respond and actively have a conversation doesn’t matter to him. He is simply glad that you’re here to listen.

Wrecker

Cuddle bug!

Any free time with you he will actively seek your body wrapped around his arms.

Loves when you sit on his lap on a couch or seat, thighs pressed outside each of his own; he’ll trail his arms up and down your waist, maybe cheekily have a feel of your ass once or twice (sorry, he can’t help himself).

Also likes when you’re just intermingled on his cot, staring up while you talk about everything and nothing.

Wrecker runs very warm, and you might have to push him away from his firm grasp when you begin to sweat and pant a little. Despite his sweet complains and pleads to come back, he’ll let you go nonetheless. But you’ll return to his arms inevitably.

Crosshair

“Why would I want cuddles?” he says, already itching for your touch.

Doesn’t actively seek it out, but god he relishes every time you want to cuddle.

Likes it when you lean your head on his shoulder or on his lap as he cleans his rifle or something else along those lines. It gives him enough mobility to move but still that contact each of you crave.

He might itch for more if he isn’t doing anything with his hands, and may trace patterns onto your arm, shoulder, back, thigh, knee, anywhere that’s convenient and in reach.

Although he’s aware that you like it, he begins doing it mostly for himself. And also, it gives him an excuse to secretly admire you.

Echo

Initially, he’s nervous you’ll feel uncomfortable cuddling with him because of his prosthetics and build.

So when you do express affection and craving for that sort of intimacy, he feels inept.

With more time and trust in the relationship he warms up to it more.

Enjoys wrapping his non-scomp arm around you and encourage you to wrap your arms around his waist.

Will keep his leg prosthetics untangled from yours unless you initiate it.

Likes to plant kisses on your forehead before trailing down to your ear to mutter (sweet) nothings.

His love translates to his cuddling, you quickly discover. Languid and romantic. Though he severely dreads the moment you inevitably separate.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @captainfresh501 @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @bluebird-dreams @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip

#the bad batch #star wars #tbb #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch fic #clone force 99 #bad batch #the bad batch x reader #tbb fanfiction #sw fanfiction #star wars bad batch #star wars fan fics #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #star wars tbb #tbb headcanons #tbb fic #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb tech #tbb tech x reader #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tech the bad batch #tbb echo #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb fanfic #nour writes stuff

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 34)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 33

Warnings: a bit of sad reader, a bit of angsty Anakin, FLUFF, clandestine love affair bullshit!! and a very subtle implied *you know* at the very end (rated teen as always)

Summary: Your training with Obi-Wan constitutes a new beginning; you and Anakin reckon with the fight you had after Felucia (WE HAVE NEW CLONE WARS ANAKIN GIFS TO USE I'm screaming)

Word Count: 4.2k

You felt the crisp, cool, morning air of the Temple hit your face like a bucket of water, as if the wind wanted to keep you awake and upright. You walked slowly through the hallways, focusing on your breathing, on the cold air, the hard marble beneath your feet, on anything but the whispered conversations you heard around you. Not heard—felt. You knew that the few Jedi you passed in the halls were not responsible for the accumulation of the voices in your head. This was just how it was for you, now—you couldn't help but pick up too much, like you were receiver that was too sensitive, picking up too many transmission signals.

It was easier to ignore the feel of all of the whispering voices than it was to ignore the pain you felt in your entire being. Walking through the Temple halls, even, felt like walking through thick, piling sand, your limbs aching. But you knew you mustn't focus on the pain—the pain of your grief, still so heavy, or the pain that twinged in your mind as you thought about the fight you'd had with Anakin last night—you mustn't let it consume you. You had work to do.

You felt horribly guilty for how you had shouted at Anakin the previous evening, how you had pushed him away, how you had told him to get out. Not that he had listened; he'd held you all through the night, and even after you'd calmed enough to dose, you still felt the guilt of it in your veins. So, when you'd awoken to the coruscanti light streaming in through the window slats, and you'd seen Anakin fast asleep, his peaceful, beautiful face finally at ease, you knew it wouldn't be right to wake him. You'd taken one last look at his face, admiring the shape of his jaw, his eyebrows slightly downturned in sleep, his eyelashes that shown blonde in the morning light, before you'd slipped out from under the covers and donned your robe, holstering your lightsaber before sneaking out of your apartment.

There would be time to apologize later. Now, you knew, you needed to clear your mind. You kept walking. As you passed the archives, something that you had been thinking about since you had returned from Felucia flashed through your head. Later, you told yourself, turning to look ahead and stilling yourself for what was to come.

You stopped outside the meditation chambers. You knew you didn't need to knock—knew that he would sense your presence. And, as you heaved another sigh, working to keep your body upright, fighting the weight of that ever-present grief, you heard his quiet voice.

"Enter," Obi-Wan said, and you pushed the button on the panel on the wall, walking slowly into the darkened meditation room. Everything inside was a shade of blue and grey, even the pale light slipping in through the mostly-covered windows. The room contained only a few soft ottomans, and gave the impression of stillness, of calm. Even so, you had to hold your breath as you bowed to Obi-Wan and took your place on the ottoman across from his. Everything in this Temple reminded you of Yuma. Everything reminded you that she was no longer here.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," Obi-Wan said gently, his eyes grazing over your form, your face. You realized you still had yet to visit the refresher, your hair still looking like a nest something might crawl out of. You couldn't find it in yourself to care.

"Thank you for...offering, to help me train," you responded, bowing your head again slightly, forcing yourself to look him in the eye.

"I will do what I can," Obi-Wan replied, folding his legs on the ottoman, assuming a straight-backed meditative position. You followed suit, and found that your body felt comforted in this position, like muscle memory, as if its familiarity made the weight a little bit easier to bear.

"It is my understanding that you were unsuccessful," Obi-Wan began, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "when trying to extricate yourself from Yuma's thoughts and memories in the Force."

"Yes," you said, swallowing hard, trying to ignore the lump that had formed in your throat as you thought back to those training sessions, some that had taken place in this very same room. It felt like a different lifetime, compared to the one you were living now.

"And you were unable, as well, to stop reading other's presences, when you tried." You felt Obi-Wan's thoughts drift lazily toward Anakin, and you checked to make sure your own Force presence was folded neatly and minutely into yourself. The last thing you needed from this training was to reveal too much.

"Yes," you said again, watching Obi-Wan with interest.

"What did it feel like? When you tried to disentangle yourself from Yuma's presence?" Obi-Wan sounded genuinely curious. You swallowed again, pushing your head and back up straight, blinking away the pang that her name sent through you.

"It felt like..." you thought back to those training sessions. "It felt like there were thousands of...tendrils, connecting my presence to Yuma's presence, in the Force. And all of the tendrils were tangled together, knotted and looped...it took so much effort to disconnect one, or two, but before I could make progress, her thoughts or emotions would shift, and new tendrils would take their place. I could never get too many disconnected at once."

"An interesting metaphor..." Obi-Wan mused, his hand gracing over his mustache, his eyes unfocused as he considered your words. "My thought is that we are going about this the wrong way." He looked up, making eye contact with you once again.

"I'm listening."

"I've observed your Force empathy myself..." Obi-Wan said, looking at you as if he could see through you, right to your very soul. "I've found that your own emotions form a strong connection to those you read in others."

You thought back to all the times you'd mistaken others emotions for your own...with Anakin, the first day you'd even met him, or with Henry, when you'd seen his memories and assumed they were yours. You nodded.

"Sometimes...sometimes they even become indiscernible," you confirmed. "My own emotions, and those I read in others." Obi-Wan nodded as well.

"Logically it follows that extricating your emotions from the emotions of others would be very difficult," Obi-Wan said. You thought back over your relationship with Anakin—how at first you'd been afraid your feelings of affection, longing, of love weren't yours at all. Over time, though, your own feelings had grown such that their strength couldn't be denied. They had asserted themselves over you, over both of your lives. You shuddered at the thought, at how difficult it felt, even now, to not be by his side, not be in his arms. How those emotions threatened to swallow you whole.

"If the two are inseparable," Obi-Wan continued, snapping you back to attention, "instead of trying to separate your emotions from the emotions of another, I'm wondering if we can cut both off at the source."

"You mean..." you pondered, thinking this through, "not feel anything?"

"Not exactly, no," Obi-Wan explained, his voice thoughtful. "You are gifted at meditation, yes?" You nodded, wanting to see where he was going with this. "Instead of trying not to feel anything, you might think to separate yourself from your own emotions, when in particularly dangerous or high-stakes situations."

"You're speaking of impermanence," you murmured softly. Obi-Wan nodded. It was an old Jedi principle, one you had learned from a very young age—that the root of all suffering was impermanence. That to fear the impermanence led to anger, and then to hate, and then to suffering. A Jedi must accept the impermanence of all things. Especially emotion, you thought to yourself.

"I think you might have more success if you were to try to separate yourself—your being, your very soul—from those momentary feelings. The emotions you feel, and those that others feel, entangled and entwined as they are." Obi-Wan watched you, waiting for your response.

"So, it isn't about trying not to feel..." you said, thinking deeply. "But rather, allowing my sense of self to detach from my feelings, when the occasion calls for it."

"Yes." Obi-Wan affirmed. "It isn't about escaping your own emotions...but rather, forming a stronghold against them, and the ones you might read in others." Obi-Wan paused for a moment while you thought this over. "The Sith are controlled by their emotion." You looked up, and for a moment, instead of Obi-Wan's blue iris, you saw the purple one that had haunted you in your dreams. "They draw strength from it, yes," Obi-Wan continued, "but they also let it consume them. It seems to me that when you intuit Sith presences, that emotion consumes you too."

You thought back to when Count Dooku had taken you prisoner in your own mind. It had felt like being led down a dark path, one that narrowed, narrowed, until...until you'd been trapped. You didn't want to be rendered useless ever again. You didn’t want anyone else to come into harm's way because you were unable to keep your own mind for yourself. As your resolve hardened, you sat up straight, meeting Obi-Wan's gaze.

"What must I do?"

It was difficult work. Obi-Wan led you through a series of visualization exercises, and then meditations. You waded so deeply into the weeds of your own mind that you felt, for a moment, afraid you might get lost in it once again. But Obi-Wan was there, his voice guiding you, allowing you to continue mapping those deepest parts of yourself. You soon found that you were not one whole, but a composite mix of things; you were not solely a Jedi, nor were you solely the self that Yuma had taught, nor the woman that Anakin loved. You were many different things, different forms, ever-shifting and changing along with your consciousness.

By the end of the lesson, you'd achieved a moment—only a moment—in which you had looked at Obi-Wan and felt nothing emanating from his presence at all. It snapped away as you lost your focus, and you'd been certain that it was a mistake, but Obi-Wan had assured you that he did not have the gift of hiding his Force presence, and that if you had not been intuiting it, you had made great progress. You could admit that the flow of conversation in the back of your mind, the ever-present murmuring, had quieted to only a trickle. This was a great improvement from the storm of voices you had grown accustomed to. After only one day's effort, you and Obi-Wan had achieved more than you and your Master had been able to accomplish in six months.  

"Thank you," you said, breathless, sweat dripping down your brow from effort. For the first time since Felucia, you felt a bit looser, like you didn't have to try quite as hard to stand up straight.

"I appreciate your gratitude," Obi-Wan said kindly, "but you know it isn't necessary. I want to do anything I can to help you." You nodded your thanks to him, all the same. Obi-Wan's face became thoughtful. "I've never encountered anything like you, in the Force," he added, considering you.

You paused, taken aback. Obi-Wan, one of the most talented Jedi in the Order, who'd had a Padawan that—

"But...Anakin..." you mumbled, confused.

"I've never encountered anything like either of you," Obi-Wan said, chuckling and rubbing his beard. "You astound even the wisest of us." You laughed too, and felt yourself surprised to hear the sound.

"I know it doesn’t help," Obi-Wan remarked softly, "But I…have been in your position before. I watched my own Master be killed." You went quiet, your eyes fully on Obi-Wan, his head bowed, his hair hanging over his face, his eyes glazed with the memory. "And I was there, and I could do nothing to stop it. The mark that it leaves…it gets easier, with time. Easier to bear the weight of it."

You had never heard Obi-Wan speak of his Master before. Qui-Gon’s passing had happened when you were so young—it had scared you, at the time, with all the rumors surrounding how it had happened, but you hadn't thought, at that young age, of the effect it must have had on his Padawan.

"It does help," you told him quietly. The two of you sat for a moment in comfortable silence.

"How do you feel?" Obi-Wan asked, looking you over with careful concern. You considered his question honestly, allowing your body to express itself to you.

"I feel...hungry," you breathed, surprised at yourself. Obi-Wan smiled widely, and you grinned back at him, feeling, for the first time in a while, like there was solid ground beneath you.

Anakin stalked through the halls of the Temple. Jedi who were in his path moved swiftly to get out of his way; a maintenance droid squealed as the toe of Anakin's boot just missed it, but he wasn't paying attention. He looked down for a moment, but could barely see the tendons in his hands as he clenched his fingers into fists. He barely noticed the way the other Jedi were looking at him, his furrowed brow, his tall stature. He had other things on his mind.

He had awoken in your bed to find it empty. Fear and panic had gripped his heart as he tore apart the sheets, looking through the apartment, calling for you. It was only then that he remembered your training with Obi-Wan, your promise from the previous day. It had calmed him, but only a little. He had dressed quickly, sneaking out of your Jedi apartment with ease. He knew he had to find you.

Anakin's heart raced thinking about how you had been these previous days, how immobile you seemed, how you had been refusing to eat or drink, how you hadn't been able to get out of that bed. It terrified him whenever your eyes started to glaze over; when you didn't seem to fully see the room you were in. He was worried you might slip back into that Force haze at any moment, that space where you had seemed all but lost to him forever. He wouldn't let that happen.

The meditation room was empty; Anakin paused in the doorway only for a moment, before wheeling around and continuing down to the lower level. Where could you have gone? Surely not back to the medical chambers, unless—unless something had happened to you, during your training? Unless your mind had gone back into that cloudedness—

Surely there was no way the council had already sent you into command, was there? Anakin himself had been granted a small reprieve after the events of Felucia. He knew the council had appointed you general of the 415th batallion, Yuma's former position. He knew you had accepted command—what else could you have done? But could the council have sent you back into combat so quickly? Panic gripped Anakin's heart as he considered what it might mean if you returned to battle in your current state. He paused just outside the Temple gardens, half-ready to turn around and head back up toward the medical bay, to the council chambers, to demand to know where you were, when—

He felt a tug within him in the Force. It was a familiar presence; it felt like comfort, and reddish brown hair, the sleeve of a tunic...

Anakin found him on the other side of the gardens, in the corner, sitting with a cup of tea.

"Where is she?" Anakin demanded, looking around quickly. Obi-Wan seemed relaxed, so, at the very least, nothing horrible could have happened to you.

"Good morning, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his voice sounding tired.

"Where is she?" Anakin asked again, bouncing back onto the heels of his boots for emphasis, feeling unable to keep still, even in the presence of his seated Master.

"I believe she went to get something to eat," Obi-Wan replied, looking warily up at Anakin.

"To eat?" Anakin asked, pausing for a moment, debating turning around on the spot and heading for the mess hall. But if you had gone to get something to eat, then—

"Training went well, then?" Anakin asked, lowering his voice, perching on the bench next to the one on which Obi-Wan lounged, in the corner of the Temple garden.

"I would say so," Obi-Wan said in his infuriatingly calm voice. Obi-Wan took another sip of his tea, looking out at the garden as if deep in thought.

"What does that mean?" Anakin asked, feeling impatient.

"I'm not sure," Obi-Wan replied, his voice still infuriatingly calm.

"Don't be cryptic," Anakin accused, leaning back on his bench and crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. "Do you think you'll be able to help her, or not?"

"I am optimistic," Obi-Wan said, finally turning in Anakin's direction to look him over. "You should be patient with her, Anakin. This was a serious loss for her."

"I know that," Anakin responded, his heart pounding, his anger jumping up a pitch. "I am being patient." Did Obi-Wan think he, Anakin, didn't know what you needed? How could Obi-Wan not see that your well-being was the most important thing in the world? Of course, Obi-Wan couldn't know about your relationship with Anakin...but didn't Obi-Wan realize the importance of keeping you alive, regardless? Didn't Obi-Wan realize how much danger you were in? Anakin took in the posture of his former Master, how calm Obi-Wan seemed, how superior, and felt his frustration grow. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath.  

"She's grieving—" Obi-Wan tried, but Anakin cut him off.

"Felucia, Obi-Wan?!" Anakin rasped, his volume increasing. "That wasn't grief!" Anakin recalled again the way you had looked with your body limp, your eyes clouded over, milky white, unable to hear him, trapped in your own suffering.

"I'm looking into it," Obi-Wan responded quietly, lowering his eyes.

"Well, look harder," Anakin said, his breath coming out in a huff. He leaned forward again, looking to Obi-Wan beseechingly. "If she takes command of the 415th, and she doesn't have this under control—"

"If you don't trust her by now," Obi-Wan began, but Anakin cut him off again.

"Of course I trust her! But you know as well as I do—as well as Yuma did—that her gifts are a liability!"

"She is not a liability to the Order—"

"I don't give a kriffing gundark about the Order! I'm talking about her—her life. You need to help her, Obi-Wan. We need to...to find a way to make sure..." Anakin's breathing was heavy. He found himself looking down at his hands, his shoulders moving up and down quickly with his breath. He blinked, his fear overwhelming him.

"We will help her," Obi-Wan said, putting a bracing hand on Anakin's shoulder. "And she will help herself."

You sat, staring into the archive memory, sifting through the holobooks to find what you were looking for. The Temple library was quiet, the atmosphere one of focused attention. Something about it calmed you, but you also found it a bit unnerving, that every bit of galactic knowledge that existed could be found in these very archives.

Your stomach was full for the first time since Felucia; you were sitting upright, able to fight the weight of the grief that had been threatening for days to consume you. You felt exhausted, and sad, but it was a start. And after attending to your needs in the mess hall, you'd come straight here, to the Temple library. Even in the darkest parts of your grief—even when you'd been totally trapped under that weight—you'd known what you needed to do next. You'd been forming your plan. All you had needed was the strength to begin. And, thanks to your training with Obi-Wan, today you'd found it.

You used the controls to pull forth one of the holobooks, and as the holoimages came up, you sat down to focus. You felt yourself getting lost in the text, trying to remember everything. Your focus was so intense that you didn't feel his presence coming until he was right behind you.

"Why are you researching Galactic Sign Language?" Anakin asked, his hand gently stroking your shoulder. Such a small, subtle movement was likely to go unnoticed by those other Jedi in the archives, absorbed as they were in their own research. The sound of his voice made your body electrify—all of the longing, the guilt, and the desire passed through you at once. You shivered.  

"It's a long story," you told him, turning around in your chair to face him full on.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, right as Anakin had said the same thing, leaning in toward you, his eyes wide. You felt the corners of your mouth turn up at the sides, and Anakin's face fell open, his surprise taking away his supplication.

"Me first," you said, getting up out of the chair and shutting off the hologram. As you faced Anakin, you felt through his emotions in the Force, sifting through as if the man in front of you were a different type of archive memory—one that was tangled, passionate, complex, brilliant, and beautiful. His emotions mirrored your own; you felt his guilt, his longing, his love for you. The first and most prominent emotion surrounding his presence was worry, and this made you feel even more guilty.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," you told him quietly, aware of the others milling about the great library. "I'm sorry I took my anger out on you. It's only anger at myself—" Anakin looked as if he were going to cut you off, but you silenced him, holding up your hand. "I shouldn't have gotten angry with you at all. Not when you are so kind," you voice grew quieter, "and so loyal, and so patient with me." Your faces were closer together now; if anyone were to look over, they might wonder why you were having such an intense, whispered conversation. "I'm sorry I fell apart," you continued, feeling the hint of the tears pinpricking the corners of your eyes. You pushed through, closing your eyes to keep the tears from falling. "You shouldn't have to worry about me. I won't let it happen again. I promise I'll be here for you. With you."

"I'm the one who should be sorry," Anakin said eagerly, acting as if he were about to take your hands in his, and then looking around, thinking better of it. Instead, he surreptitiously reached up and brushed under your eye, stroking away the ghost of the tear that didn't fall. "I shouldn't have said anything about...I shouldn't have assumed I know anything about what it felt like for you, on Felucia."

You nodded, but really, he didn't need to apologize. You'd put your own words into his mouth; it hadn't been a fight between you and Anakin, but one between the warring sides of yourself. And you knew now that you needed to face those warring sides head on, and deal with them before they could manage to hurt anyone else.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," you said, pulling half of your mouth up in a small smile. Anakin's eyes were stars, on fire, the blue looking like it was burning, like it would melt out into the air.

"Obi-Wan said training went well," Anakin whispered, hopefully, looking around you for a moment before grazing your hand with his.

"I think it did," you whispered back, looking up into his eyes. You wanted nothing more than to take his face in your hands, but you held back. All this secrecy, you thought, might just drive you mad.

"And you'll tell me about your research..." he continued, glancing back at the archive computer behind you.

"Another time," you assured him, looking around again, making sure no one was close enough to overhear while you leaned in closer toward him. "You know that I love you," you breathed. Anakin's face broke into a joyful smile, his body leaning in closer to yours.

"You know," he said quietly so only you could hear him, "that I love you more than all of the books in this archive." He glanced back at the other Jedi, huddled in their research. "And more than all of the stars in the galaxy, and more than all of the galaxies in the universe." Anakin met your gaze, his sorrow gone, his eyes alight and mischievous. You felt the intention in his Force presence, and it made your insides turn over, your breath becoming short.

"And I love you more than whatever lies beyond that," you whispered, smiling up at him, your heart full. Anakin surreptitiously stroked his hand over the top of yours once again.

"Do you have much more research to do?" Anakin asked, his face forming a familiar, cocky smile.

"It can wait," you murmured, smiling and cocking your head as you strode past him toward the doors, gesturing for him to follow.

************************************************************************

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[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me, Part 1 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

I started writing this in August of 2022. Four rewrites later, I’m posting it now in August of 2023. Shoutout to @writing-on-the-wahl​ for inspiring me and helping me smooth this over as well as to my brother for supplying all the military/niche Star Wars knowledge I needed. 

Summary: A simple mission takes a turn, and suddenly Y/N has to work carefully with Master Kenobi to ensure they both survive. 

Warnings: Satine doesn’t exist, mentions of mistreatment, mentions of Pong Krell (yes, this is a warning, Clone Wars fans get it. If you haven’t watched Clone Wars, you should still be able to understand this fic) 

Word count: 7.5k

Rescue Me masterlist

Never in my entire life had I been so cold.

The cold sucked all the Force-given agility from my limbs, numbness spreading from my toes to my knees. I could feel the hairs inside my nostrils freezing, and every gasp of air burned its way down my throat and into my lungs. My nose felt moments away from falling off my face altogether. 

There was no blushing horizon, no boulders or trees visible, no dynamic landscape whatsoever. There wasn’t even a way to discern where the sky ended and the land began. 

 It was just white. 

The pelting snow obstructed everything from view, keeping me unaware of anything unless it was two feet from my face. For all I knew, we could’ve been walking in circles. 

The very idea set my teeth on edge, and I quickly attempted some deep breaths to calm myself down. I kept pushing forward, practically dragging Master Kenobi along through the snow that had reached my knees.

It was because of this blasted snow that he hadn’t seen the D’oemir bear trap until its metal jaws closed around his foot. I’d been busy studying the defenses of the Separatist base when a shout of pain came from behind me, alerting the Separatists of our presence and our location. 

What had started as a simple scouting mission was now a fight for survival.

I took more deep breaths, trying to lean on the Force for peace, just as I’d always been taught. And yet, like every other time I tried, the mystical energy seemed muted, like it’d been covered in a blanket to hide it from view. For all intents and purposes, Master Kenobi and I were alone. 

As if the planet somehow eavesdropped on my thoughts, the wind picked up, sending an extra bite of pain through my exposed cheeks. “How much farther to the ship?!” I yelled in an endeavor to be heard, holding tighter to the arm slung around my neck. 

Master Kenobi didn’t answer, and my heart sank. We weren’t even close then. 

A particularly brutal gust of wind buffeted past us, nearly pushing us backwards. 

"We can't go on much further!" I shouted. "Master, I don't think we're going to make it!"

Master Kenobi held up his free hand, holding it up to block the gale from his face. His lips moved, but the sound coming from them was lost.

"What did you say?!" 

He leaned in, positioning his lips right beside my ear. "You need to get yourself to the ship!"

A blast of anger imploded in my insides, momentarily warming me up. "I'm not leaving you!" Another squall of wind nearly sent us toppling over. 

"There's no point in both of us being stuck out here when you can save yourself!" Master Kenobi pulled his arm, unwinding it from its position around my neck.

I fixed him with a glare and gripped his arm tighter. "I'm not deserting you!" I didn’t know what exactly the council would do if I showed up on Coruscant without Master Kenobi, but I knew the judgment would be swift and severe. 

Master Kenobi's exasperation grew as well. "I'm your master, you need to do as I say!"

Yet another gust of wind barreled past us, breaking the conversation and forcing us to brace ourselves. 

"The only other shelter for miles is the base, and we can't go back there!" I said, once the wind returned to its previous howling intensity. “So we have to find some other means of staying warm!”

Master Kenobi straightened, studying our surroundings. I tried not to roll my eyes. There was nothing to see except wind, snow, and desperation, yet he surveyed it all with great care. Even a gaze as hypercritical as Master Kenobi’s wouldn’t be able to conjure something from nothing. 

Suddenly, Master Kenobi twisted around, looking behind us. A strange light jumped forth in his eyes. He mumbled something, but the wind blew it away. 

"What?!"

"That way!" he shouted, pointing off to the side. 

"What about that way?!"

Master Kenobi still didn't answer. He took a step in the indicated direction and would've fallen, had I not shifted to take the weight. 

I glanced down at his injury. The sight of the dried blood that long since had soaked through his boot sent my stomach flipping. Ironically, the only thing keeping him from bleeding out was the same infernal cold that would kill us if we were exposed much longer. 

We didn’t have much time.

"C'mon!" he yelled, bringing me out of my thoughts with an impatient look thrown at me. 

"Where are we going?!" 

"There's a bunker this way, I've been in it before!"

I stared at him warily. "How do you know where it is?! I can’t see a thing!"

"I just know!”

He just knows, I thought sourly. The almighty Jedi master in his boundless knowledge just knew everything about everything.

An irritated grunt left my lips. Thankfully, the wind covered up my defiance, and my mental shields kept any doubt from spilling over. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter where we freeze, I thought to myself grimly before obeying Master Kenobi. 

“Just keep heading towards the mountain!” 

Mountain?

I glanced around, checking to see if a mountain had somehow snuck past me since the first time I’d looked around. But no, the terrain was the same.

“What mountain?” I shouted back.

Master Kenobi shut his eyes for a moment, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to exasperation or pain. “Reach out with the Force, and you can feel it!”

The Force? As some sort of land radar?

I wanted to scoff, to argue with him. But while giving into my doubts seemed appealing, I knew Master Kenobi would still be assessing every move I made. So I pushed on, fighting the snow and the wind for every step of distance covered. What felt like an eternity later, Master Kenobi reached out his free hand to point ahead of us. “Look, there it is!”

I peered around us, feeling the snowflakes stuck in my lashes. “I don’t–”

“Just keep going!” Master Kenobi urged.

I’m never leaving Coruscant again, I promised myself with every step. The numerous threats and corrupt politicians would be manageable, especially because death would likely come in a swifter and more exciting package. Like poison. Or a dramatic duel to the death. Not something as rudimentary as snow.

To my utter surprise, I felt the ground underneath us start to slope upwards. Could I really be at the foot of a mountain and not see it? I squinted in the direction of the slope and caught sight of hits of gray mixed in with the white. 

Son of a mudscuffer, there really was a mountain. 

Master Kenobi brought the hand that wasn’t around my neck to his mouth, tearing his glove off with his teeth. Fingers free, he pressed his hand to the snowy rock.

“Welcome, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” an automatic voice said. The wall of rock slid to the side, revealing a door that opened.

A sudden burst of heat came from the doorway, and I nearly lost my grasp on Master Kenobi as I stumbled through the doorway, leaning against the wall immediately inside. Clearly aware of my exhaustion, Master Kenobi leaned his weight away from me and up against the wall as the door closed behind us.

The roaring of the wind dulled, making me feel as if someone had stuffed earplugs into my ears. But I couldn’t make myself care about that.

The delicious warmth caressed my face, like flickering flames running their soft, welcoming hands up and down my skin. I started to regain feeling in the tips of my ears and my nose. 

Then the burning started. 

The flames grew hotter, setting my skin on fire. It itched. I could feel my joints getting stiffer and stiffer as parts of my body started to swell. The heat that I’d so desperately craved a few moments ago was proving to be just as dangerous as the chill.

“What the–” Master Kenobi said, raising his rapidly puffing fingers. 

“We’re warming up too fast,” I gasped, picturing a description from a med book I’d read once, accompanied with gruesome pictures I didn’t want to recreate. “We have to slow down the temperature change. Is there a refresher in this place?”

Master Kenobi stepped forward to show me the way, and he immediately pitched forward, losing his balance.

My arms shot out, grabbing him before he could fully fall to the floor. “Silly old man,” I said through gritted teeth as I began to drag him once more. 

“I’m not that much older than you,” Master Kenobi bit back before pointing down the hallway with his free hand. Wordlessly, I followed his direction. Scorching pain started where his arm met the skin of my neck, but I only held him tighter as I focused on getting us to the refresher. Master Kenobi tried to help, leaning some of his weight against the wall as we passed, but it didn’t make much of a difference. “Last door on the left,” he panted.

I slammed my hand against the pad, and the door slid open.

The revealed quarters could barely be called a refresher. It wasn’t even big enough for a Wookie to hide in. Would Master Kenobi and I even fit? 

Only one way to find out.

I lowered him to the floor and quickly turned the water on. “We have to get in.” I jerked my hat off, shrugging out of my coat. “If we take too long, our hearts are going to fail.” I pulled off my overtunic, cursing the number of layers I had on. After getting the undertunic off as well, the exposed skin of my arms and stomach started to prickle painfully. It grew even worse when my pants came off, leaving nothing to protect my skin from the heat except a pair of tight undershorts and the fabric binding my chest. All I wanted to do was get under the stream of water for some relief. 

I stepped towards the refresher, my foot touching the water as I glanced over at the master.

Master Kenobi’s shoes lay discarded as his fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his coat. He saw me watching him. “Get under the water!”

I didn’t hesitate, crouching in front of him, clumsily pulling at the fastenings of his coat. By some miracle, they opened, and I tugged the coat off.

“Get under the water!” Master Kenobi ordered, but I ignored him, fisting his overtunic in my stiff hands. “Leave me!”

I met his eyes, ignoring the fire ants crawling all over my skin. “Arms up.”

“Y/N-”

“The more difficult you make this, the longer it will take for me to get in the refresher,” I barked. “Arms up.”

Looking extremely vexed, Master Kenobi finally sat forward, lifting his arms to allow the overtunic to be tugged over his head. I tossed it to the side, getting to work unwrapping his undertunic. He shifted his weight, hooking his thumbs into his pants and pulling them down his legs. I pulled them off, discarding them as well.

Then I stared down at his body, a new conundrum taunting me.

Master Kenobi’s frame far exceeded mine in size, and it was riddled with heavy muscle. The refresher was barely big enough for us to stand in it together, so he couldn’t crawl in and sit on the floor. But how was I supposed to get him into a standing position and into the refresher? 

“Go.” Master Kenobi’s shove was far from gentle. “Get in.”

I grit my teeth. “I told you,” I learned forward, hooking my arms under his armpits, “I’m not leaving you.”

“You are my padawan, and you will listen to–”

I hoisted, trying to pull Master Kenobi up. He barely budged.

“–me because I am your–”

I tried again and failed again.

“–master–”

I screwed up my face, shutting my eyes and summoning every last bit of strength I had.

Master Kenobi’s body lifted, his arms wrapping around me as he let out an alarmed yelp.

For a moment, satisfaction wracked through my core…but I’d underestimated how much momentum we’d generated.

I stumbled backwards, my arms wrapped around a toned torso and heavy arms wrapped around my shoulder. The stream of water hit my back, it’s chill making me gasp. Then my back collided with the wall, just before a body slammed against mine, knocking all the air from my lungs.

My eyes flew open, and all I could see was Master Kenobi.

His usually voluminous hair stuck to his head as water ran down in torrents. His lips, surrounded by his overgrown beard, were parted, and his chilly blue eyes were wide.

I shoved him away, forcing him to catch his balance by bracing himself on the wall opposite the refresher head. Unfortunately, the refresher was so small, if I wanted to, I’d still be able to place my palm on his chest without even straightening my arm. The tempo of my heart hastened, the little pitter-patter sounding akin to quickening footsteps. What my heart barreled towards, I didn’t know, but my body seemed to.

A shiver ran up my spine, causing me to tremble. 

“Are you alright?” 

“S’cold,” I said shortly. 

“I believe that’s the point,” Master Kenobi shot back. Despite the humor in his comment, I couldn’t find any in his expression, not even so much as an upturn of his mouth. His face was a hard slab of stony displeasure. 

Standing here in a refresher with Master Obi-wan Kenobi in nothing but my undergarments was not my idea of a good time either, but it was better than freezing to death. 

“Next time,” he grunted, “you’d better get in the refresher first.” 

Nevermind.

Master Kenobi pursed his lips, still looking upset. “I’m not solely charged with teaching you–.” 

“I get it.” The impertinent words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Master Kenobi’s face spoke of vexation, like it always did when he was interrupted. “You are not just my student, you are my ward. I am responsible for you, so when I tell you to save yourself, you are to listen, do you understand?”

I hated that he was talking to me like I was a child. I may not have been his padawan for longer than a week, but I wasn’t a youngling.

“It is not a hard concept to grasp.” His tone danced between stern and impatient.

I remained silent, twisting the refresher dial to make the water slightly warmer and keeping my face impassive as I’d always been told. But his words only fed the fiery furnace roaring inside me.

The crease between Master Kenobi’s eyebrows flattened. “You’re angry.”

My cheeks heated up. I quickly shoved the rage down, frustrated that it had momentarily broken through my mental shields and bled through my Force signature. My previous master had been able to harness the Force to hide his emotions as easily as breathing. I tried to do the same, but the Force rarely allied itself with me.

“I understand,” I said as evenly as possible, keeping my eyes averted and my temper in strong hand. “I'm just a padawan. You're the master.”

“There is no ‘just a padawan’,” Master Kenobi interupted. “Being a padawan is just as crucial a part of the Jedi cycle as being a master.”

I barely withheld my huff as I turned the water slightly warmer again. I didn’t need any Jedi propaganda about the value of life and each stage of it. 

“You’re angrier.”

I quickly raised my mental shields again, cursing them for continually breaking down.

“Tell me why you’re angry.”

I eyed Master Kenobi warily. To discuss this with him was wrong, but to disobey a direct order from my master was even worse. 

“Y/N-” he began, and I snapped. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I barked. “That I don’t know this mission is a test? If I show up on Coruscant without you, the council will assume I’ve followed in Master Krell’s footsteps and execute me.”

“Why would you be executed?” 

“Master Krell was,” I said with gritted teeth. “A padawan stands in their master’s shadow, don’t they?”

His mouth turned down in a deep frown. “You haven't gone over to the dark side and killed scores of clones.”

“And yet if the council trusted me, we wouldn't be here on a so-called surveillance mission!” Master Kenobi didn’t immediately reply, watching me, waiting for more answers. I lifted my hands to pull the pins out of my bun, letting my hair fall. My outrage cooled slightly. “Look,” I set the pins off to the side, “saving myself doesn’t do me any good here. Can we leave it at that?”

Master Kenobi didn’t seem to catch the hint. “No.” 

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. The more my irritation grew, the more he questioned me, making my irritation rise even further. It was an endless cycle.

“You're frustrated.”

I slammed my mental shields back into place.

Master Kenobi tilted his head. “Why do you try to hide your emotions from me? 

Distantly, I knew the more anger I showed, the more likely I was going to get into trouble, but when there’s enough heat to make the pot of boiling water froth and overflow, slamming the lid down only worked for so long. “If you want to quiz me on the Jedi Code, can it wait until we’re back on Coruscant?” 

“No, it can’t.”

I wanted to scream.

“You’re getting angrier.”

Gripping the reins of my temper, I yanked them back so hard, my body hit the wall of the refresher.  “Why do you care?” I bit back.

“Because only a Sith tries to hide their true feelings.” He looked me directly in the eyes. “Are you a Sith?”

It was a natural thing to ask, yet the question still felt like a hammer between the eyes. 

No! I wanted to scream. Of course not! How could you think such a thing?!

But as I looked into Master Kenobi’s grave expression, a small trickle of doubt started.

Master Kenobi wouldn’t lie. It was against his character and offered him no advantage here. If hiding emotions was a component of the Code of the Sith instead of the Jedi Code…

Pong Krell was my master. As his padawan, I was expected to follow his lead and take his teachings to heart. To be a padawan was to be molded. Master Krell abandoned the Jedi Code, lost his respect for life, regardless of whose it was, and started ending lives instead of saving them. How long ago had he chosen the dark side? And how long had he been molding me the wrong way?

Maybe…maybe I didn’t know how to be a Jedi at all.

Thoughts started swirling in my brain, picking up speed until they were so fast, I couldn’t catch hold of them.

“You don’t want to be one,” Master Kenobi said softly, more to himself than to me. “And you’re worried you are.”

I almost went to reinforce my mental shields, but if that was truly the method of a Sith…perhaps my own impulses were untrustworthy. “I’m so confused,” I managed to say. 

“Why are you trying to hide?” Master Kenobi asked, slowly and clearly. I considered him, no longer with skepticism or a wild need to prove myself, but to see him as he was.

Tall. Pale. Strong-browed. Sturdy-shouldered. Piercingly blue-eyed. Hair charmingly tousled. Mouth sternly set. 

All of it whispered of forbearance. 

I felt it then, deep within myself. A push to speak.

“Because Master Krell told me to,” I mumbled. “He…he said my thoughts were too loud, so…he taught me to conceal them.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth opened and closed, producing no sound as he stared at me. Finally, he closed his eyes, looking pained. “I didn’t realize that his teachings were so corrupt.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

Blue eyes rested on my face, striking me with soft wisdom. “I am sorry. Krell’s failings should’ve been spotted long before they were.”

I nearly gaped at him, discomfort coursing through me as my skin started prickling again. A master, apologizing to a padawan? It wasn’t seemly. 

“His failings?” I repeated.

Master Kenobi squared his shoulders. “To be a master is to be your padawan’s strength so you can aid them in their weakness. To protect them, to respect them, to build their confidence.” Master Kenobi’s eyes turned sad. “Did Krell do that for you?”

I thought I felt bare already, but Master Kenobi’s question stripped me completely. To ask for my opinion…it felt wrong. So wrong, that I couldn’t even fathom giving it. I crossed my arms, bowing my head to let my hair fall forward like a curtain. I stared at the drain at our feet, wishing I could melt and slide away with the water.

A hand rested on my shoulder, calluses gently scraping against my skin.  

I started to lean away from it, but I froze when I looked up, coming face-to-face with the fiery resolution in Master Kenobi’s face. “Now that you are with me, things will be different.” Master Kenobi’s hand squeezed my shoulder. 

A simple gesture. A kind one. 

Different, Master Kenobi said, did I dare to hope it could even be better? 

I immediately buried the hope in an avalanche of doubt. My display of emotion and insubordination surely warranted chastising at some point, as neither of them were signs of a competent Jedi. He was waiting. He would scold me for my actions at a later date, surely. 

Yet no trace of Master Kenobi’s displeasure remained in his face. The moments that passed were only filled with the sounds of water hitting the refresher floor.

My body still felt too big for my skin, like my skin was straining to stay together, but my skin no longer burned. I reached over, turning the dial farther, and the water could finally be called warm. 

A small sigh sounded, and Master Kenobi leaned his head against the refresher wall, his eyes closed. Even with his slumped posture, the ends of his hair brushed his shoulders. With the rapid succession of our last few missions, neither one of us had much time for personal grooming, even by Jedi standards. Judging by the way he’d been absentmindedly brushing his hair out of his face these past few days, it was far past the length that he liked it to be. It’d fallen into his face now, collecting in a tangled clump on his forehead. 

As I watched and without opening his eyes, Master Kenobi lifted a hand, pushing the hair back. As my eyes remained on the locks, a bizarre fluttering started in my stomach. 

The sensation started out subtle, but the longer I looked, the more it grew. 

Was I getting sick? 

Had our traipse through the snow caused some further harm than just the discomfort I was now experiencing? 

His eyes fluttered open without warning, meeting mine. I read the question there, clear as day. Had he picked up on my feelings? “Your hair,” I replied, hoping the Force hadn’t given him the exact subject of my musings. “It’s long.”

He self-consciously ran his fingers through it. “I know, I know. It’s high time for a haircut.”

“I could cut it for you.”

Suspicion bloomed on his face. “Have you ever cut hair before?”

I gestured to my own hair. My work was a bit choppy, but I wore my hair up most of the time anyway.

“Yeah, you’re not touching my hair,” he said, running his hand protectively over his locks. “I’d probably end up having to shave it all off.” He shuddered, and I nearly snorted, reaching over to turn the water off.

“Are there towels in this place?”

“Here, I’ll-” Master Kenobi stepped forward and immediately crumpled.

I sprang forward, but my strength was only enough to slow his descent to the floor. 

I’d forgotten about his wound. I kneeled beside him, reaching for his bare leg, but he quickly shifted out of my reach. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Taking a look at your injury, old man,” I said matter-of-factly, trying not to show how worried I was.

“I assure you, I’m fine–”

Before he could finish his protests, I grabbed the leg, pulling it towards me. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on it that it was bad.

The punctures oozing blood were not the worst of our worries, nor was the swelling and bruising already making their way up and down the appendage. It was the odd angle of the foot.

I looked up at him. “I think it’s broken.”

A ripple ran up his jaw as he grit his teeth. “Can you set it?” he asked. 

“You didn’t even want me to cut your hair!”

“Can you set it?” he repeated. 

“I-I know the theories of how, but you should really have a med droid do it.”

“I don’t have a med droid.” Master Kenobi paused, his expression softening before he said: “I have you.”

“I could hurt you.”

He glanced at the wound. “I think we’re beyond that now.”

“I could make it worse.”

“You won’t.”

He was…trusting me…to help him.

I shook my head slightly. I was the best chance he had. There was a difference. 

I studied Master Kenobi’s foot. If I did something wrong, would there be lasting complications? What if I did something that delayed his healing? Or worse, what if I made a catastrophic mistake that led to him losing his foot altogether?

I didn’t want to do this now. 

But if we waited, the untreated break would surely take ages to heal.

“I’ll do my best.” 

He nodded, looking determined, and his resolve lent me strength. As gingerly as I could, I prodded the skin.

Master Kenobi’s whole body tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the exact point of the break. It doesn’t seem as though the bone has pierced the skin, but it’s displaced.” I finally located what I was looking for and got my hands in the right position. Then I stopped. If Master Kenobi tensed up, it’d make it harder to shift the bone. I could put him through all the pain of trying to set it, only to not get the bone back to where it needed to be.

I needed him to loosen up, something I hadn’t seen the Jedi Master do in all the time I’d known him.

“How do you know all this?” Master Kenobi asked. “About the rewarming and the bone setting?”

“Before I was chosen as a padawan, I was studying to be a healer,” I answered distractedly, still trying to figure out how to get him to relax. Perhaps he was ticklish? 

Master Kenobi cocked his head. “You didn’t continue that study after you were chosen?”

I shook my head.

“Why not? The Jedi Order always needs healers.”

I glanced up at him, slightly irritated that he’d chosen this moment in time to ask questions. “Um…I tried to help heal a Clone once.” Maybe laughter would help him relax. What were the odds of me telling a joke that would make him laugh?

Master Kenobi raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“When Master Krell found out, he hit me.” So distracted by my task, the words left my mouth before I could even think about them. 

Master Kenobi’s eyes grew wide as his limbs went completely slack. “He-”

I seized the moment, wrenching the bone back into its proper place.

To his credit, my master only let out a strangled groan. After a moment passed, he shifted. “Y/N–”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a Vodran,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Their bones are considerably harder to set because their skin is so tough.” Sitting down, I pulled his foot into my lap, grabbing my overtunic. The fabric was thicker than the fabric of my undertunic, meaning it would behave more like bandages. 

“What are you–” Master Kenobi started to say.

“I have to bind your foot so that we didn’t just set the bone for nothing.”

“But that’s your tunic!” 

I shot him a confused look. “It’s just fabric.”

He went quiet, but judging by the ferocity with which he started chewing on his lower lip, he was still anxious. Why was Master Kenobi, the most practical creature I’d ever met, worried about a tunic?

Maybe he was experiencing the same weird feelings I felt earlier, where pain and low temperatures met to form a delirium.

I wrapped his foot up as best as I could, but I had no idea how tight to tie it. I didn’t want to cut off circulation, but the bone needed support. He definitely needed a med droid, and that would require us somehow getting back to our ship. But that wasn’t going to happen until the snow let up, which meant we were stuck here for the foreseeable future. We could only hope that the Separatists didn’t find our ship, and that the ship was still functional when the snowstorm ended.

In the panic of getting his foot set, the water clinging to our skin had evaporated. Grabbing my pants and undertunic, I shrugged them back on, getting to my feet. “I’m going to go see if there’s food.” I nodded towards his foot. “And you should elevate that.”

An exploration of the bunker didn’t reveal much. It was small and almost completely empty, save for two bunks that had been built into the wall, one on top of the other. There were some empty boxes here and there, but there were no provisions to fight against hunger or cold. This bunker functioned as a hiding place and nothing more. 

I returned to Master Kenobi to find him not elevating his foot, but instead struggling to put his pants on over his undershorts. I briefly considered helping, but if he wanted help, he would ask for it. 

“Did you find anything?”

I shook my head. “Just empty boxes. What is this place anyway?” 

Master Kenobi shifted side to side, slowly inching the pants up his legs. “Anakin and I once had to lay low here for a week. It was originally a hideout for some workers from the shadowport on Socorro, but Anakin reprogrammed everything to only respond to us two.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why were the two of you here for a week?” 

A mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “We might have had a bounty on our heads.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Anakin made a bet with some mine slavers on Socorro. They lost and had to free fifty slaves.”

A pang shot through me at the casual pride in Master Kenobi’s tone. 

Anakin Skywalker. 

The chosen one himself. 

The relationship between master and padawan was a profound thing. An eagerness to learn and single minded devotion on one side, and knowledge rooted in deep compassion on the other. Given the Jedi stance on attachment, it was the most important relationship a Jedi experienced. Everyone in the Order, padawan, knight, or master, had heard stories of Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker. No pair got in more trouble nor accomplished as much as they had. It didn’t matter if Skywalker was no longer a padawan; the admiration and respect they held for each other was unmatched. 

I didn’t need to hear it from Master Krell’s lips to know that he never felt that way about me. All I ever received from my old master was guidance, and stern guidance at that.

Suddenly I realized my mental shields were up again. Without meaning to, I was again trying to hide my thoughts and feelings. I frowned. I didn’t want to lower my shields, to expose myself to Master Kenobi, but…if I wanted to be a Jedi, I needed to act like one. Slowly, I let my defenses fall, carefully watching Master Kenobi for a reaction. Master Kenobi’s gaze remained on his foot. Perhaps his pain was blinding him to my feelings.

Master Kenobi put on his undertunic, but he left his overtunic where it was on the floor.

I shook my head, letting the thoughts fall away. “C’mon,” I said lightly, holding my hand out to Master Kenobi. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Lifting his arm to wedge myself into his armpit, I hoisted him to his feet, and together, we shuffled towards the bunks. I helped him sit on the bottom bunk and stepped back, stretching out my neck.

“When you say Krell hit you,” Master Kenobi started, causing me to freeze, “what do you mean by that?” I shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t mean that he physically struck you, right?”

As I hesitated, a wave of discomfort washed over me so suddenly, I nearly staggered back.

It wasn’t my own, I realized, as I looked at Master Kenobi’s face. 

As a youngling, I hadn’t heard of any physical punishments being used by the Jedi to discipline their padawans, but it happened often enough with my previous master, that I’d assumed it was common practice. Did Master Kenobi’s reaction mean that it wasn’t?

“I can feel your turmoil,” Master Kenobi murmured. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He was apologizing again?

“It…” I licked my lips. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

Really, it wasn’t. 

He raised a hand to me once in a while, but most of his aversion was reserved for the clones. Unlike them, I was never intentionally put in danger for the purpose of furthering strategy. Master Krell treated me more like an ally than them, and that counted for something. 

Still, a memory surfaced from a few weeks ago, shortly before Master Krell’s deceit had been uncovered. 

Master Krell had caught me dragging the battalion’s captain out of danger during a conflict, but he hadn’t said anything until the battalion had camped for the night.

The deep tenor of his voice and his related stance with all four of his hands clasped behind his back hadn’t matched with the accusation in his words when he’d asked me what I was doing, neglecting my duty in a fight to save a clone.

I didn’t have time to reply before Master Krell took matters into his own hands. A phantom burst of pain across my face, the memory as clear as when it’d happened.

“Caraya's soul,” Master Kenobi said softly, the color draining from his face. “He hurt you.”

Out of habit, I threw my mental shields back into place. “It could’ve been worse.” It could have been so much worse.

Master Kenobi must’ve been in a lot of pain, for his face was screwed up in an unpleasant expression.

“Is your leg alright?” I asked worriedly. Maybe the bandages were too tight, and he was losing blood flow.

“Leg?” he asked slowly. “Oh, my leg…it’s fine.” He seemed almost distracted, as if he’d not only forgotten that his leg was injured but that he even had a leg in the first place. Master Kenobi sat up, leaning closer with such intention, I knew more questions were coming.

“I should go check the status of the storm,” I said, getting up.

“What?”

I grabbed my coat off the floor, pushing my hands through the sleeves. “The snow might have stopped.”

“I’m coming with you.” Master Kenobi sat up in his bunk.

“No!”

Master Kenobi blinked at my outburst. “You’re injured,” I said abruptly. “You shouldn’t be putting any weight on that leg.”

“You can’t go on your own.”

“Why not?” I rubbed nervously at the inside of my wrist. “I can secure a perimeter.”

“You should have someone watching your back.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Wait!” Master Kenobi held up his overtunic. “At least wear this. You can’t go out in the cold with just your undertunic.”

I hesitated.

“Please.”

I gingerly took it, wrapping it around me as carefully as I could before walking to the door. 

As I lifted my hand to push the button on the pad, a strange, masculine smell drifted up into my nose. 

Master Kenobi’s smell.

It made my head spin a bit, and I quickly hit the button before ducking back into the harsh winds. I couldn’t be angry with the pain flashing through my face, not when the winds seemed to blow away my momentary vertigo. 

I glanced around. The snow had stopped, and the planet had lightened, meaning I could decipher where the sky ended and the land began. The wind continued to blow, and that was probably the reason that there was no sign of our footprints.

Now was the time to make a break for the ship.

-

The biting wind continued to harass us on our trek back to the ship, but being able to see made the journey much quicker. I kept us moving, worried that when we got to the ship, we’d have to commence the warming process again, especially Master Kenobi, since he’d insisted I wore his overtunic. 

As we neared the ship, I noted with relief that the astromech droid was still in its droid socket. It beeped and whistled in droidspeak, relaying its concern for our tardiness.

As soon as Master Kenobi was inside, I went straight for the cockpit, turning the ship on while thanking the Republic fleet for allocating us a ship designed to withstand freezing temperatures. The ship turned on with a slight hum. Wasting no time, I maneuvered the ship off the ground and into the air, straight for the atmosphere.

Once we left the planet’s atmosphere, I relinquished the ship to the astromech droid, quickly ducking back into the hold to check on Master Kenobi, who lay on the cot, using the stiff pillow not for his head but to elevate his foot. 

“We’re maybe a few hours away from Coruscant.”

Master Kenobi didn’t say anything and didn’t spare a look in my direction. I lingered for a few moments, waiting to see if he would break the silence. If reputation was to be believed, he didn’t stay silent for long, prone to questions, criticism, even wisecracks. Perhaps he would dig more into my past or shed more light on the actual teachings of the Jedi code. 

But the silence remained unbroken.

Unsure of myself, I walked into the cockpit, and the door slid shut behind me. The astromech was doing all the work, so there wasn’t much point in sitting here. But to go back in there…for some reason, the idea of it made my stomach twist. 

I realized, as I sat in the pilot’s chair, that my mental shields were up again. Frustrated, I lowered them.

And then, what I could only describe as the humming of light came from behind me. 

Master Kenobi, I realized. I could feel him. Not his thoughts or his feelings, but his presence. Here, in a separate part of the ship, I felt closer to him than when I’d been standing skin-to-skin with him in the refresher. 

“What in the name of Chobb?” I muttered to the stars, who of course, offered no answers. 

-

“Master Kenobi, we are pleased to see you and your padawan returned safe,” said Master Windu, clasping his hands in his signature, thoughtful look. “I will say, your mission took quite a turn.”

“That it did,” Master Kenobi said. “I certainly didn’t expect to nearly lose a limb.”

Chuckles rippled through the councilroom. I nearly rolled my eyes. When we’d landed, I brought Master Kenobi to a healer right away, who declared that Master Kenobi would heal just fine. From my position slightly behind Master Kenobi, I could see that he was still favoring his uninjured side, despite the healing sheath that was currently wrapped around his injury. Even so, the healer had never even mentioned amputation.

“What did you observe of the base before the snowstorm hit?” Master Murag asked.

As Master Kenobi rattled off the information we’d gained, I subtly gauged the expressions of the masters.

Their expressions were pleasant, but revealed nothing. They kept their attention on Master Kenobi, barely sparing a glance in my direction. I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Well done,” Master Koon said once Master Kenobi had finished. “This information is valuable. We have another mission for you, once you have healed up.”

I bowed, expecting the meeting to be over.

But Master Kenobi didn’t move.  

“To say, more have you, Master Kenobi.” Master Yoda said, showing his famed clairvoyance. 

“Yes.” 

I tried to keep my face impassive while desperately wishing I could see Master Kenobi’s. What was he doing? What more could he have to say about this mission that hadn’t been in his report? I’d been both at the mission and in this room when he gave his report. There was nothing he missed.

Master Kenobi rounded out his shoulders, standing tall.

“Padawan Y/N’s diligently-gained knowledge kept me safe from threats I myself would not have known how to approach.” My breath caught, and I stared at the back of his head, wondering what he was doing. “Without her, I would not have made it back. She was invaluable.”

None of the masters reacted, their faces not showing a single hint of surprise, as if they had no investment in the conversation at all. I, however, felt like I’d swallowed a box of fireworks and been told to stand still. 

“Is that so?” asked Master Tiin.

“Indeed. I believe she is well on her way to being a great asset to the Jedi Order.”

Master Windu glanced over at Master Yoda. “Well, thank you for your words. You both are dismissed. We will inform you of your next mission once your injury has fully healed.”

Master Kenobi nodded to his fellow masters and walked out of the councilroom. 

I followed him through the door and through the Jedi temple, completely at a loss for words.

“Why did you say all that?” I managed to ask once we’d passed the library. 

Master Kenobi didn’t even bother to act confused or clueless. “Because it was the truth. And they need to know the truth.”

“But they weren’t asking about my conduct.”

Master Kenobi stopped walking, looking at me dead in the eyes. “The way Krell treated you was abominable. I suspect I know very little of the true extent of his mistreatment, but had any of us known what I do know, we would’ve put a stop to it immediately. But you spent years under his tutelage, suffering.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It is my responsibility to right his wrongs. That starts with clearing your name.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your Master. It is my job to help you become the best Jedi you can be.” 

“But–” I froze, wishing I could recall the interjection. It wasn’t right to question my master like this. 

Master Kenobi gave me a meaningful look. 

I shifted. “You’re not going to pass me off to someone else?”

Master Kenobi smiled softly, like there was some secret joke between us. “I may not have chosen you traditionally, but I did choose you.”

“Why would you–”

“Because you saved Captain Rex.”

My mind went utterly blank, and it was only by some miracle that my jaw did not drop. Saving a clone—the action Master Krell condemned me for—was what appealed to Master Kenobi?

“Who told you I saved him?”

My only answer was a tiny gleam in Master Kenobi’s eyes. “I believe it is time for you to wash up and get some sleep. In the morning, we will start to fix Master Krell’s teachings.” He turned and started limping down the corridor.

“Master Kenobi?” I called, and he turned to face me. “How...how am I supposed to know which of his teachings were good and which were bad?”

“Simple,” Master Kenobi said. “You ask.” With a nod, he went on his way.

I watched him go.

When I’d been informed after Master Krell’s death that I would now be reassigned to Master Kenobi, I expected a period of adjustment, but I hadn’t known the two masters would be so different.

Master Krell accomplished much in this war, because his single-minded approach meant nothing else mattered besides victory. He was brutal and untrustworthy. Because he’d been my master for so long, I’d nearly forgotten what the Jedi Order valued.

Over the course of this mission, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had proven himself to be the epitome of everything a Jedi should be.

A selfless, powerful warrior equipped with bravery and strong with the Force. 

I didn’t…I didn’t have the words to explain it, this feeling rising up in me. The feeling that made me hold my head high. The feeling that challenged some of my long held beliefs. The feeling that perhaps I wasn’t completely alone in this galaxy. 

I only knew that whatever it was, it was because of the Jedi Master with hair too long and heart much bigger.

-

Part 2

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle​ @valiantlytransparentwhispers​

Rescue Me tag list:

@penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @starlazergazer

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fanfic #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #padawan!reader #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #pong krell #kenobi #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction

[letsquestjess]

Game Night

Summary: Crosshair struggles after rejoining his brothers, and they do everything they can to welcome him home.

Word count: 753

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

The Marauder’s consistent rumble may have been able to send some into a cosy slumber, but it held Crosshair in its clutches and refused to let him rest. Rolling in his bed, he wriggled to find a comfortable position, his jaw tightening as he worked to ignore the clanking of the crate buckles and the shaking floor. Another shock of turbulence disturbed the craft, and with a disgruntled huff, he abandoned any thoughts of sleep and sat up. 

Lula swayed at the end of his bunk, tiny red-tipped ears quivering against the wall. After reuniting with his siblings, he went about his daily tasks in silence and kept to himself. They stepped back and gave him space, but every now and again they reached out. Wrecker and Omega had taken to placing the tooka doll close by while he dozed, and on more than a few occasions, he’d left the refresher to discover a steaming cup of caf and a kind note from Echo waiting for him. 

Rotation by rotation, he started to relax, spending a few extra minutes in the cockpit with Tech and responding to Hunter with more than a huff when he asked about his well-being. But the guilt didn’t stop. When he looked at them, he remembered every shot he’d aimed at them and every hostile intention. The aftermath of the war had shattered his family, and he’d let it. 

He rose from the bunk and stretched his aching arms. Humming and beeping, Gonky waddled closer. “What do you want?” he grunted at the defective unit, skimming over the plate of cookies and the slip of paper perched on his head. He unfolded the note and trailed the words ‘game night?’ written Hunter’s almost illegible handwriting. 

If he hadn’t been a little inquisitive, he might have waved Gonky away and paced the rear of the ship until some semblance of sleep took him. But in the back of his mind, he considering if this was his chance to apologise, or at least start to. Waiting for the right words and an appropriate time was getting him nowhere. In the recesses of his heart, trembling cold and alone was a man who missed his brothers. Who wanted to joke around with Wrecker and exchange snarky remarks with Hunter until one of them broke into a grin. Who wanted to chat with Echo into the night and sit with Tech as he tinkered with his most recent invention. 

Cookie in hand, he walked into the cockpit. As the door slid open, five warm smiles greeted him.

“I was starting to wonder whether you’d be joining us,” Hunter said from beside the control panel. “Omega found our old Sabacc table, and we were telling her about the game nights we used to have on Kamino.”

Tech dragged a chair over to the table illuminating the middle of the room and parked it next to him. “I thought you could assist me for the first round.” 

Like smoke clearing after a detonation, a flicker of light shimmered through the mist. Crosshair had spent months dreading the moment his brothers might decide that forgiveness was out of the question and tell him to go. Yet here they were, arms open wide to welcome him home. Although there were difficult discussions to be had and apologies to be made, he was with his family, and that was all that mattered. “You and me against Wrecker and the kid?” he scoffed, taking the seat beside Tech. “We’ve already won this.”

“Don’t claim victory just yet,” Echo said. “You’re facing formidable opponents.”

“If the Sabacc table remains in one piece, that will be victory enough for me,” Hunter chuckled. 

“If you two are ready to be crushed, I think we should begin,” Crosshair said. “We’ll let you start.” 

“You’re on!” Omega enthused from Wrecker’s shoulder. After a few whispers, the duo made their first move, and Tech quickly responded. 

Wrecker groaned. “Oh, come on, that isn’t fair.”

“It is within the rules,” Tech replied with a shrug. 

For hours they strategised, countering moves and gasping at close calls. Laughter filled the ship, light-hearted jests flew across the table, and memories of their game nights on Kamino floated through their conversations. 

Hunter grinned at the playful chatter and shifted to Crosshair’s side, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Good to have you back, brother,” he said quietly as Tech and Wrecker squabbled over tactical advantages and Echo attempted to soothe the discussion. “Hasn’t been the same without you.”

#tbb #the bad batch #tbb fic #the bad batch fic #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #tbb fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #sw tbb #sw the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #sw fanfiction #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #clone force 99

[arcsimper5]

The Hunt

On my Halloween vampire kick still!

Vampire! Fives x Human F!Reader Reader F but not described. Rating: Explicit (R) Minors DNI Warnings: Mentions of abuse, vampirism, blood drinking, wall s3x, alleyway s3x, p in v, unprotected sex

Summary: There was an unspoken rule amongst the vampires of Coruscant; don’t kill unless provoked, leave no evidence, don’t feed more than once on the same person.

As his eyes focused on a familiar outline in the crowd, arousal shooting through his body, Fives knew he was going to break that last rule tonight. Again.

@amorfista I'm back on my vampire BS lol

79’s was heaving, as it ever was, though Fives couldn’t help but smirk at the array of fancy dress on the patrons. 

Hallows’eve had always been a spectacle he’d watched from the outside, but never participated in, until now. Being a vampire, it almost felt like a festival honouring him, many a skimpy clad dancer with fake, painted blood spots on their neck, mimicking them being a victim of a bite.

His stomach fluttered and cock twitched at the mere thought of making those marks real.

Letting out a soft growl, dark yellow eyes flicked across the crowd.

There were so many options tonight, it was on the verge of overwhelming. Usual nights were quiet when he would hunt, pickings often slim, especially since the end of the war.

Peace bred much fewer habit drinkers than wartime, he mused.

But he always got his fill, taking enough to satisfy but not to kill. There was no point in arousing suspicion, and if enough patrons of a certain venue were killed, it inevitably closed. There was an unspoken rule amongst the vampires of Coruscant; don’t kill unless provoked, leave no evidence, don’t feed more than once on the same person.

As his eyes focused on a familiar outline in the crowd, arousal shooting through his body, Fives knew he was going to break that last rule tonight. Again.

She looked ethereal under the strobing lights of the dancefloor, hair swaying with the movement of her hips, body gyrating to the music. Wearing only a thigh length, navy blue dress adorned with sequins on the hem, she literally sparkled, body shivering when she felt his gaze settle on her.

As soon as her attention turned to him, a bolt of arousal went straight to Five’s cock, his flesh hardening instantly. His tongue darted out to lick his lips automatically, her face flushing ever so slightly at the action as she reached out her hand and beckoned him over.

He couldn’t deny her. He never could.

Sauntering through the crowd, their eyes remained locked on each others, even as bodies swayed and rocked around them, sweat and alcohol tainting the scent of the air. It was a magnetic pull, as if he was drawn to her, the sweet, addictive memory of the taste of her already on his tongue.

By the time he reached her, he was rock hard and wanting, slipping into place behind her and joining in with her writhing dance, growling low in his throat at the way she pressed back against him.

“I thought I’d missed you tonight,” she called over the music, her backside grinding against his hips as his mouth found her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, relishing her scent. “You’ve not been around for a few days.”

It was true, Fives had been haunting some of his other hunting grounds and meeting with vode, but the allure of her, the memory of how sweet her essence was, had him coming back more often than he should.

The fact she’d noticed sent another thrill through his body, but this hit differently, warming his cold heart in a way he didn’t want to dwell on too much.

“You miss me, mesh’la?” he teased lightly, dragging his lips across the soft skin of her neck. He could feel her racing pulse, hear her ragged breathing, practically taste her arousal as she spun around in his arms, facing him.

“What if I did?” she challenged, gaze locked on Five’s, his smirk matching hers.

“You like playing dangerous games, sweet one,” he hummed, looking her over. She was utterly gorgeous, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit, it was one of the first things he’d noticed about her first.

That first night was still etched in his memory, how she’d lured him in with her siren song of a dance, grinding on him until it got too much and she dragged him towards the bathrooms. 

It was only as he fingered her from behind, his hand pushed into her underwear in front of the mirror, her face twisted in pleasure and his reflection phasing in and out of reality that she learned of his true nature, practically begging him to drink from her, her core clenching at the very thought of it.

He’d complied easily, lost to pleasure as he drank his fill and she sank to her knees, drinking everything he had to offer in her own way.

It had been a pleasurable night, one that he’d kept in his memory for a week after, sated enough that he didn’t have to hunt. And when he returned, she was there. Waiting. Wanting. Sidling up to him at the bar and pressing her wrist to his mouth, urging him to sink his teeth into her.

He hadn’t even had time to order a drink before he had her pressed up against the wall, feasting on her pussy before he drank from her again, fingering her to a sweet release as he lapped at the wound, closing it tenderly.

Oddly, they’d talked afterwards, not for long, but enough to exchange names and dates they intended to visit next. And it sparked something in Fives. This was dangerous, he knew. She could be anyone; a hunter, the bait of a hunter, or just a hot girl with a very specific kink.

Whatever the truth was, he was wary to begin with. But weeks turned into months, and now it had been almost a full year since their first encounter, his heart fluttering at the thought.

They’d still not had sex, his nature still bound by honour. He wouldn’t take advantage of her, everything had to be initiated in a way she was comfortable with. But tonight, it felt different. More primal.

His suspicions were confirmed when she leaned in closer, tongue darting over the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through his body.

“I was actually hoping to ask you for something, Fives. For our upcoming anniversary.”

Her words were teasing but her face was set a little too serious, Five’s stomach twisting as the music slowed a little, the rhythm more sensual, bodies pressed close together.

“And what would that be, mesh’la?” he asked against her skin, lips moving in to caress her neck once more. 

A beat of silence. Then…

“I… I want you to turn me. I want you to fuck me and let me turn, Fives. I want to… I want to be with you.”

Fives jerked back as if stung, eyes wide.

He had expected the request for sex, sure, it was something that had been on his mind as well, but the latter half of her request sent him reeling.

“I… I can’t!” he half choked, stumbling back a few steps. Her face was a picture of disappointment and hurt, uncertainty weaved through every movement it made. “You… you can’t just ask that of me.”

“Why not?” she snapped, suddenly angry, the rage rising up to replace the sharpness of her hurt. 

Fives looked around, aware other patrons had stopped dancing to look at them, listening in on their conversation. 

In a movement that brokered no arguments, he reached forward and grabbed her hand, pulling her towards one of the exits from 79’s, out onto the cold, busy streets of Corsucant. 

To her credit, she did not protest, allowing herself to be led, trusting Five’s actions.

The very thought of that trust made him dizzy. How could she, this delicate, beautiful, thoughtful woman want to be with him? He was a vampire, but all accounts, a monster.

“You don’t want it,” he breathed as they finally made it into a secluded alley, away from prying eyes. She faced him, eyes searching his face with a frown, as if trying to decipher something. “It’s… it’s not what you think it is.”

“Then tell me,” she urged him, leaning back against the wall behind her, earnesty in her voice. “Tell me what it’s really like, and I can decide.”

Fives considered her words for a moment, replying with a scowl of his own.

“I’ll tell you,” he murmured slowly, “if you tell me why you asked me to drink you the second you found out I was a vampire.”

That stopped her in her tracks, her jaw clenching as she glared at Fives, finally huffing and turning her head away, relenting.

“Because I thought you were going to kill me.”

The silence between them was broken only by the omnipresent buzz of the living city around them, Five’s eyes going wide at her admission.

Reaching a hand up to her face, he traced her jaw tenderly, pulling just enough to make her turn to face him. He wished nothing more than to kiss her tears away, his arms shaking with the effort of giving her space.

“I… I was in a bad relationship,” she continued after a moment, voice thick with emotion, “and I’d gone out to… to forget. I knew, as soon as I got back, he’d… well… He’d hurt me,” she laughed bitterly, Fives frown darkening.

If he’d known, had any idea, he would have gone back with her that night and kept her safe.

“I… I’m sorry,” he offered uselessly, chest constricting when she looked away again, shaking her head.

“I thought you would drink me dry and leave me there,” she swallowed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she met Five’s gaze again, “and it would all be over. No more pain, no more humiliation, no more suffering. Only… you didn’t. You were gentle, even when you fed. You treated me like… like a person. Like I was worth something. So… I came back.”

Her explanation left Fives reeling, his entire focus on her. Of all of the things he thought he might hear from her tonight, this was not even remotely close to his guesses.

“Cyare,” he breathed, his other hand now travelling to her face, both moving to bring her in for a tender kiss. She whimpered against his lips, her own hands grabbing at his waist, pulling him flush to her.

Their kiss was different this time, the tang of her tears mixing with saliva as their tongues danced in unison, Five’s hands pulling hers above her head, pinning her against the wall. One leg slipped between her thighs, pressing his knee against her.

The whimper she released into his mouth was divine, swallowed down by him as she rocked herself against his thigh, seeking friction.

Finally breaking the kiss, Fives pulled back with lust blown eyes, his fangs bared now as he panted for breath.

“There’s no going back from this,” he warned her, deathly serious as she gazed up at him, completely vulnerable. “True star sunlight will kill you, you’ll need to feed like I do, and you could live for centuries. You’ll watch everything you know and love crumble to dust around you, and there’ll be nothing you can do to stop it.”

“The only thing I’ve ever cared for is you,” she gasped out, arching her neck, giving Fives a perfect view of her pulse point. “I have no family, my job is dead-end. I’ve been working just to afford to come to meet you. There’s nothing left for me. Only you.”

Fives let out a guttural groan, fighting the urge to simply sink his teeth into her there and then.

“Mesh’la,” he chastised her gently, “I need to be sure. If I turn you, you’re bound to me. We’ll be bonded. I can only ever turn one person, you have to be sure. I couldn’t live with you hating me for eternity.”

Her eyes widened at his admission, fingers clenching against his hand where he still held them above her head, his palm dwarfing her slender wrists.

“I want you, Fives,” she managed, almost choking on his name as his other hand trailed down her breasts, teasing at her nipples, “I’ve wanted this since the moment we met. I need you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

That was all the encouragement Fives needed, a shiver of arousal pulsing through his body.

“Forever is a long time, cyare.”

She could only gasp as he shifted his leg away and unbuckled his belt with ease, black jeans pulled down just enough to expose his thick, leaking cock.

“Good,” she breathed, letting out a whimpering moan as his fingers slipped up her thigh, dragging one leg over his hip before moving to her core, gently tugging her panties to one side and lining the head of his cock up to her entrance.

“Last chance,” he offered, eyes locked on hers for what felt like an eternity. She looked utterly debauched already, pupils blown wide with lust, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Make me yours.”

They both moaned in unison as Fives slid inside her, the delicious friction of his cock against her insides bringing a new level of pleasure to her, one she’d never felt before. He was thicker than anyone she’d ever had before, her walls fluttering around him as he bottomed out, wrapping his free hand into her hair, tugging her head to the side.

The absolute euphoria that spread through every cell of her body when he sank his fangs into her, piercing the vein in her neck and letting her very life flow against his tongue was like nothing she could ever have described.

The intensity of a lightning strike, the pleasure of a well known lover, the force of a tsunami, it was overwhelming in the most primal way.

“F-Fives, oh, m-maker,” she managed, chest drawing in desperate, shuddering breaths. His lips sealed around the bite, sucking deeply as he fucked up into her, his other hand releasing hers above her head to grab at her waist, lifting her up against him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist without hesitation, her own hands raking down his back as he drank from her, desperate for every last drop.

Her head span, desire and pleasure mixing together to make everything hazy and unimportant. She could feel her heart slowing, the chill of the night seeping into her as Fives continued to fuck her deeply, moaning into her neck as he rolled his hips, relishing in the way she clenched around him.

Finally, as the world began to fade for her, Fives licked at her neck, lathing his tongue over the wound, and she found his wrist pressed against her mouth, the sweet, metallic tang of his blood filling her senses, his essence dribbling over her lips.

“Drink, my love,” he urged her as he bucked against her, drawing more moans from those beautiful lips, “have me. Become mine.”

He didn’t need to ask her again. Her mouth latched onto his wrist, sucking greedily at the wound on his wrist, laking all he had to offer her. Fresh pleasure rushed through Five’s body, his essence mixing with hers, the exchange of life, the awakening of a new part of her.

She felt it too, the absolute bliss, her body bucking and writhing against his, orgasm after orgasm coursing through her as she drank, her body changing, cooling, growing in strength.

Fives pulled his wrist away as he spilled inside her, caught off guard by the crest of his pleasure. Crashing their mouths together, they drank in the taste of each other, Five’s seed coating her insides, held in as he rocked them through the afterglow.

Caught once more by the intensity of it all, she let out a whimper against his lips, almost collapsing into his arms as exhaustion took over, a feeling he remembered all too well from his own turning.

“Easy, cyare,” he cooed, wincing in sympathy as he withdrew from her, hands steady on her waist, supporting her, “you’re going to feel weak for a while.”

“F-Fives, I, I l-love you,” she breathed, oblivious to the way his eyes flashed in delight, yellow orbs shining in the darkness.

“And I love you, mesh’la. I’m going to take you home, to our home, now. We will rest and wake together, and you can feed again. Then, I will show you the world through your new eyes.”

“P-Please, F-Fives. Thank, thank you. You’re all I, all I want.”

Fives couldn’t fight the soppy grin that lilted his lips as he quickly redressed himself and picked her up bridal style, his touch tender and comforting.

“You have me, cyare. Forever.”

#star wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #halloween #Halloween writing challenge #fives x reader #clone wars #clone thirsting #clone trooper fives #x reader fanfiction #Vampire Fives #Vampire AU #Monster AU #SW fanfiction #TCW fan fiction #Fives my beloved #daniwrites

[elthadriel]

Clone Bang promo post!! 🎉

Team 12: Writer: @elthadriel (Ao3) Artist: @weatherbane Beta: @lyntergalactic

Posting on January 22 to the Clone Bang collection on Ao3!

@clonebang

Fortunate Son

Rating: M

Relationships: Niner & Omega Squad, Niner & Kal, Niner & Etain, background relationships, background cloneships

Tags: Aroace!Niner; queer themes; coming out; Etain lives; Kal’s A+ parenting; unhealthy family dynamics; homophobia, acephobia, and sexism from Kal

Summary: The war is over and Niner and Darman have rejoined the rest of Omega at Kyrimorut. Niner struggles to make sense of why the idea of marriage is so unappealing to him, his place within his squad in peacetime, and his rapidly cooling opinion of Kal Skirata.

Snippet:

“It’s good to have you back,” Corr says and hugs Niner firmly enough that he can feel it hard even through his armour.

It’s good to be back, even if it doesn’t quite feel like back. The swaying grass and promised domesticity feels like stepping off a larty and realising his chute is jammed. He’s not sure he belongs here. He is sure he belongs with his squad, and they wanted to come here. 

Not that staying with the Empire was all that appealing either.

Fi tilts his head and looks over the reuniting couple. Dar’s put her down but they’re still not finished greeting each other. Is kissing supposed to be that loud?

“Years since we talked properly and he’s too busy licking her tonsils to even say hello,” Fi grumbles good-naturedly. “What’s a vod need to do to get a hug around here?”

“You aren’t as pretty as she is,” Corr says, and elbows Fi. Fi squawks in protest. Atin looks at Niner and then rolls his eyes in a way that suggests this is a dynamic that Niner better get used to. Niner’s just glad they’re getting along; it could have gone very differently. 

Skirata appears without the limp that Niner so associates with him. His arrival is enough to finally part Darman and Etain. Skirata clasps Darman’s shoulder, and Darman’s back straightens as little as he’s guided over to Niner and the others.

“It’s good to have you both back,” Skirata says, and then looks at Niner. “You had us worried, son.”

Niner nods, and feels his own posture correcting itself. It feels like a light scolding, like the ones he used to get back on Kamino. Not the sort when he’d truly screwed  up, but when Skirata was loudly disappointed at him. 

Etain hovers close by, Skirata between her and Darman. 

“It’s good to see you again, ma’am,” Niner says to her. Skirata's smile slips and Niner ignores it. 

Etain smiles, and it’s a far cry from the tentative sort of smiles she used to give when they’d met on Qiilura; she’s grown a lot. “Etain,” she corrects him. 

“Etain,” he repeats.

“We should get you boys settled in,” Skirata says. “I’m sure the Empire wasn’t feeding you.”

“I don’t mind rations,” Darman says. He manages to get around Skirata and takes Etain’s hand. “But I wouldn’t mind getting settled.” He hesitates, the loud kind of hesitation that has Fi pulling a face that no one but Niner can see. “How’s Kad?”

“He’s—” Etain starts.

“Looks just like you, son,” Skirata says. “He’s with Besany. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you.”

“You should come meet Parja,” Fi says, falling into step besides Niner, following after Darman and Skirata, with Etain awkwardly a step behind the pair. “She’s great. You’ll love her.”

“If she’s keeping you in line I’m sure we’ll get along fine,” Niner says, and it’s enough to have Fi launching into a rambling monologue about his wife. Niner’s happy for him. He is. Fi’s got everything he wanted, and he deserves that. That’s three of them married now, and with how much women seem to love Corr it’ll probably be four sooner rather than later.

Niner’s not sure where that leaves him.

#cb2023 #clone bang #republic commando #niner skirata #sw fanfiction #I'm so excited for everyone to see all of this #the art is gorgous #and lyntergalactic helped prevent me from scrapping the entire ending like three seperate times 😂

[jaguarys]

My demonnsss

#fic: working for the knife #red alert: dooku fic in the works #personal #star wars #dooku #master dooku #dooku jedi lost #sheev palpatine #sw palpatine #palpatine star wars #star wars palpatine #palpatine #darth sidious #darth tyranus #star wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #revenge of the sith #sw fanfiction #sw prequels #star wars fanfiction #sw #archive of our own #ao3 #ao3 writer #fandom: star wars #type: fanfic

[revanknightwoman]

My swtor imperial agent skeches

#old republic #the old republic #sw fanart #swtor art #swotor #swtor imperial agent #swtor #swtor chiss #swtor fanart #swtor oc #swtor ocs #swtorart #imperial agent #sith #jedi #sw fanfiction #pink #my art

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Morning Moments - Poe Dameron

A/N: I guess this will be part of my kinktober fics?? I stumbled across prompts and saw morning sex and immediately thought of Poe. So, voila!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Word Count: 1.7k Synopsis: There is nothing Poe loves more than early mornings with the love of his life.

Kinktober prompt: morning sex

Poe loves early mornings. Early, early mornings, when the sky is still dark, when the world is still asleep, when there’s nothing but the feeling of you in his arms, your deep breathing, and the slight movements you make against him.

Poe hums as you wiggled against him again. At first, he’s positive that you’re asleep, but the last movement, your ass grinded directly against him. 

“Y/N,” he says. You wiggle against him again, this time letting out a sigh of your own. He smiles as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you even closer, your back to his chest. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you say sleepily.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say. Again, you grind your ass against him, this time pressing up against him for longer. He lets out a breathy laugh, his breath tickling the side of your neck. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you hum innocently. 

“Doesn’t feel like nothing,” he says, his hand splaying across your stomach. He starts to make slow circles over your shirt, focusing on the steadying of your breath.

“Just trying to get comfortable,” you say. You lean in to him closer, your head against his shoulder. He kisses your cheek and shoulder softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” Your voice sounds sleepy again. He is still gently tracing your skin, his hand going as low as the waist of your bottoms, but never further.

“You sound tired,” he says. His mouth is against your shoulder, his words kisses upon your skin. You only mutter a slight response. He smiles. “Y/N.”

“Poe,” you say, half whine, half sigh. 

“You sound tired.”

“I am. My husband wakes up incredibly early,” you mutter. Poe laughs.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?” he whispers, the question dancing against your ear.

“How?”

“Just let me take care of you,” he says. His hand, which was on your stomach, tightens and brings you flush against him. You let out a little sigh.

Poe continues to touch your skin. His one hand makes lazy strokes across your stomach, brushing the band of your underwear, but never going lower. He snakes his other hand underneath you and that hand journeys upward, slowly touching your breasts, tracing your nipples. 

You squirm against him -- your movements sensual and rhythmic. With ever swivel of your hips, Poe grows harder, and his hands on you grow firmer. You let out a gasp when Poe finally, finally made it past the band of your underwear, his hand slipping underneath the cotton.

“You just love to tease me?” he asks, fingers slicking in between your legs. “Don’t you?” Your only answer was another whimper. If it had been later in the day, you would have been mouthier, had a quip for him, but he liked you like this. When you were practically melted beneath him. The moans and the whimpers you allowed to slip out in the morning, this was when Poe got to see the real you.

“You’ve been grinding up against me all morning,” he whispers, his lips closing around the lobe of your ear. “And now you’ve got nothing to say.”

“Poe.”

“Yeah, baby?” He moves his fingers up slightly, and you have no more words for him as he brushes over your clit. Only another moan breaks from your lips, still quiet in the morning light that is beginning to break over the horizon.

He is used to this -- to having you in his thralls, where your mind isn’t on the Resistance, the First Order, or any other worry that seems to keep the both of you up. He is used to the peace that comes over the two of you when his hand is in between your legs and your moans are the only sound. He knows how to make it last, how to drag out every touch, ever swirl of attention, every flick of his finger, to make you a puddle beneath him, until you are practically begging.

You know this, too. Your breathing has quicken and your grinding against him only becomes stronger. You want him, and he knows this. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, telling you to slow your roll, to let him take care of you. At this point though, you’re beginning to wake up, and you want to torture him just as much as he is. 

Your arm breaks free from his around you and you reach around to massage him through his boxers. He lets out a hiss of breath that echoes in your ear. He can see the goosebumps that break out across your neck. He kisses them all, sensuously, slowly. You arch your neck, giving him more access, as your stroking of him becomes slower, less focused. 

“That’s right,” he mutters. “This is about you.”

“I want to touch you,” you whine. Your hand is back on his dick, stroking him again. You move slowly, but Poe knows that you know what you’re doing. You want to drive him crazy just as he has you.

“Y/N,” he says, twisting closer to you, so that you are forced to pull your hand away. He hasn’t forgotten about the hand between your legs, and neither have you, because your heart is now racing and your breath is coming in fast. “Y/N.”

“Poe,” you whimper. He knows that he could make you beg for it if he wanted. But he doesn’t. He just wants to watch the glory of you come undone beneath him. His fingers return to your clit and circle around it rapidly until you do finally come. You cry out, the sound a little choked as the only sounds you have let out this morning have been sighs and whines to him. He touches you until you’ve come down, until you stop shaking beneath him. Well, at least partly. When you relax your legs, they quiver. The sight makes him proud.

He kisses your shoulder a few more times, his arms still wrapped around you. 

“You are fantastic,” you say with a sigh. 

“You are,” he says against your skin. 

“Please fuck me,” you whisper.

“What was that?” he asks. He obviously heard you, but he loves to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

“Don’t you want to just stay like this?” he asks, even though the only thing he wants right now is to be buried inside of you. 

“I want you,” you say. You reach around again, and this time, he doesn’t stop you when you grasp his cock in your hands. In fact, he even shrugs out of his boxers so that he can feel your hand wrapped around just him. Your back still to him, he feels your breasts as you awkwardly try to stroke him from your angle. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pulling away from him and turning so you’re facing him. With your eyes on each other, you both lunge forward to capture each others lips. You are flush against Poe’s body, his hardened cock brushing your stomach. Still locked in his lips, you stroke him, this angle giving you better access to drive him crazy. 

Poe pulls away from your lips with a moan. He clutches your hand and pulls it away. He is breathing heavily when he pins your hand behind your head, pressing you back into the bed. Within moments, he is inside of you. You cry out his name, but he slides in easily. He gives each of you a few moments to get comfortable before he starts thrusting into you.

“You are so stunning,” he says, kissing your lips. You only smile in response, your breathing is too quick to make a coherent response. “I love being inside of you. I love being the only one who gets to do this.”

“Me too,” you whine. Your hand is on him again, tracing over his chest and back. He has half a mind to pin the other over your head, too, but he likes the feeling of your hand on his muscles too much. “I love being fucked by you.”

“Y/N,” he moans, your words bringing him closer. He reaches between your legs again, his thumb finding your clit. He kisses you as he begins massaging it softly, his thrusts into you still steady. 

You are whimpering at his movements, and when you come around him, you cry into his mouth. He catches every sound in his lips as you clench around him and within a few more thrusts, he is coming inside of you. 

The two of you lay there, sweating and breathing heavily, looking into each other’s eyes. You smile at him, your eyes crinkling in the way he loves, in the way that shows you are perfectly content. You kiss him a few times, your hand cupping his cheek.

It is now morning in all of its glory. The sun is basking on your half naked body and Poe is almost jealous that he has to share you with it. 

Eventually, he is able to coax himself off of you. He makes a trip to the bathroom and brings back a warm cloth to clean you up. He settles back down next to you and pulls you into his arms, your head on his chest.

“I love you,” you hum, your fingers tracing across him absentmindedly. 

“I love you.” He kisses your forehead. 

“I wish we could just stay in this bed forever,” you say. He mutters his agreement. When your eyes turn up to him, his have closed again. A slight smile is on his face, making you smile, too. 

“Don’t watch me sleep,” he mutters. You laugh. “It’s creepy.”

“You’re just so handsome,” you say. He opens his eyes to meet yours. You kiss him, your lips intertwining easily.

“Let’s get some sleep,” he says. “We’ve got a little while before--”

“Yeah,” you interrupt. You lay your head back on his chest and he kisses your forehead a few more times. 

“Maybe when you wake up, I’ll be grinding up against you,” he says, the sound ruminating in his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say with a happy sigh, “I was fast asleep when you started things.”

“Mhm. I’ll see you in about an hour.”

“Goodnight.”

“G’night,” he mutters.

“I love you,” you say. He hums it back. It’s incoherent but you know what he means and that he means it. 

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron smut #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #reader insert #kinktober

[starbeltconstellation]

Does anyone ever get… like the strangest comments in their fanfics sometimes? That just happened to me with my Star Wars fic. It all worked itself out, but I still can’t help thinking about it.

This reader just went off in my comment section… just because Reva Sevander’s name was mentioned merely once.

That… is so strange to me.

And to me, it just shows the level of… I don’t even know what to describe it as. Just… absolute vitriol the character received from the fandom. Even though I honestly believe she has one of the most tragic backstories in the whole SW universe.

I’m also not gonna lie, I felt like the comment reeked of an undercurrent of racism.

I don’t know whether it was conscious or unconscious… and I honestly don’t think it even matters whether it was one or the other. Either way—it was just weird. Especially when taking into account how the fandom has accepted Shin from the Ahsoka series with open arms.

I don’t even know why I’m talking about this. I guess I just felt like I needed to bring it up somewhere.

At the very least, the comment was still just rude to basically post a rant in my feed, barely relevant to my story.

I just… don’t understand people sometimes.

#star wars #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfiction #SW Fanfiction: ✨ Rewrite the Stars ✨ #pro jedi #in defense of the jedi #jedi #anakin skywalker #star wars the clone wars #in defense of the jedi order #sw meta #ahsoka tano #pro jedi order #reva sevander #pro reva sevander #inquisitor reva #kenobi show #star wars kenobi #darth vader #anakin skywalker critical #star wars ahsoka #sw #sw tcw fanfiction #sw tcw #Star Wars fandom racism #sw fandom racism #jedi younglings #jedi genocide #nothing but love for the jedi

[ichorai]

BROKEN MACHINE ; the series.

a series based on the album broken machine by nothing but thieves for our 6k milestone! fandoms included ; marvel, house of the dragon, the walking dead, the boys, game of thrones, and succession.

main masterlist. wasteland baby! series. dear science series. about me.

TRACKLIST.

ONE. i was just a kid ; (marc spector) 6.6k ↳ khonshu wanted you dead. marc just wanted you.

TWO. amsterdam ; (jacaerys velaryon) 4.7k ↳ prince jacaerys velaryon traveled to the eyrie to secure aid for his mother's cause. he didn't at all expect to fall in love an arryn while he was there.

THREE. sorry ; (daryl dixon) 7.9k ↳ you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.

FOUR. broken machine ; (miles morales) 5.1k ↳ stuck in a time loop, miles had to witness the one thing that he dreaded the most in life over and over again: your death.

FIVE. live like animals ; (kimiko miyashiro) 1.0k ↳ you try and frenchie try to show kimiko how to have fun on a day off.

SIX. soda ; (aemond targaryen) 40.3k ↳ he flinched away when your fingers brushed against his eyepatch. despite this, you reached out once more to pull it off, your touch ever so gentle—and this time, he let you. you whispered that he was beautiful as your lips grazed against the marred skin of his cheek. aemond didn’t believe you, but he let you say it nonetheless.

SEVEN. i’m not made by design ; (jaime lannister) 47.8k ↳ wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

EIGHT. particles ; (peter parker) 2.8k ↳ tony gives peter the dreaded 'dad' talk.

NINE. get better ; (hobie brown) 5.5k ↳ electric guitars and strawberries, leather jackets and quilted skirts, city spiders and cottage spiders. the two of you were perfect for each other.

TEN. hell, yeah ; (roman roy) 91.5k+ ↳ pain was an old friend for the both of you.

ELEVEN. afterlife ; (yelena belova) 1.9k ↳ her sister was dead. she’d lost everyone she’d ever known. and she didn’t know you—at least not as well as she’d like to know her sister’s spouse, but yelena wanted to try. that was the least she could do.

TWELVE. reset me ; (wade wilson) 1.3k ↳ charles sends you to recruit deadpool into the x-men. expectedly, the bastard tries to weasel away from you—and when that doesn’t work, he resorts to his most lethal method: flirtation. that, and taping a kick me sign on your back.

THIRTEEN. number 13 ; (rhaenyra targaryen) 5.4k ↳ in another life, she could’ve been with you, she was sure. a life of bliss and a life not ruled by the laws of men.

#broken machine #back with my third milestone series :D #marvel fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the boys fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #marc spector x reader #daryl dixon x reader #miles morales x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jaime lannister x reader #peter parker x reader #yelena belova x reader #wade wilson x reader #twd fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #sw fanfiction #got fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #jace velaryon x reader #kimiko miyashiro x reader #hobie brown x reader #roman roy x reader #succession fanfiction

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕧𝕚𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕠𝕓𝕒 𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕥

⋆ ★ ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2023 ʟɪɴᴇᴜᴘ

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ʙᴏʙᴀ ꜰᴇᴛᴛ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʙᴏʙᴀ, ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀʟ ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇɴɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴠᴀɢɪɴᴀ ꜱᴇx, ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ

⋆ ★ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢɪʀʟɪᴇ ᴛᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴜꜱᴄʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛᴇʟʏ ᴘʀᴇᴏᴄᴄᴜᴘɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʀᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴏᴘᴇꜰᴜʟʟʏ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ꜱᴇᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴏʙᴀ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʙᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :)

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

You’ve never felt this small before.

One of the most feared men in the galaxy is between your legs, holding you so softly and carefully as if you might shatter at any moment. Such a tactile man, hardened from years of battle, now rightfully in your arms, rightfully claiming you, in such a manner nothing else could’ve been destined.

“Oh…” It’s just a simple sigh, a gentle commendation of his slow, concentrated strokes with his tongue. You want to say more, tell Boba how good it feels, how good he’s making you feel, but you’re rendered to a simple blubber and string of words that pathetically make up fractured sentences and pleasant, flimsy moans. He rumbles between your thighs, the vibrations sending a shiver down your legs and making your toes curl every so slightly. You dig a heel into his shoulder.

Boba pulls away from your sopping cunt, swiping his tongue over his lips to gather your lingering taste there, and gazes up. His stare is surprisingly unusually sweet. Unusually tender.

“How are you feeling, little one?” He asks you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your outer lips. A hiss uncoils out of your tongue and your chest heaves with a heavy breath. Boba waits patiently.

“Really good, Boba.” You even make the gesture and effort to lean your body onto one hand instead of both, taking the free one to hold his cheek. The merciless bounty hunter melts in your hold; he turns his head to leave a firm kiss on your palm. Then your thumb. Then your index. He kisses each tip of your finger as you compose your next thoughts. “I feel really good.”

Something of a grin reaches his lips; it isn’t one typical of a regular man, but it’s a characteristically hardened expression that means all the more to you. It means he’s grateful, savoring each moment he has with you. Your heart swells and arousal pools.

He returns to the task beforehand; easy strokes of his tongue ease you back into the feeling before he trails a hand up, closer to your entrance where he hasn’t been before. As you feel the tip of the first knuckle undulate small, contained circles, you squeal quietly. Boba perks up.

“Do you want me to continue?”

It’s not a hard decision to make. You nod your head, adding a sweet ‘yes,’ voice just a little breather than before.

Boba’s hand glides over the top of your entrance, fingertips a phantom touch barely caressing your pussy, yet it’s enough to make you tremble. Then, he presses further. He makes his touch more purposeful.

Gathering dollops of wetness for a moment, rubbing the spend over one digit, before sliding it in slowly. Soothing yet nerve-wracking all the same.

But then, the finger is seated in you with little resistance. Little pain. You feel your warmth hug his appendage, keeping it firmly inside of you as you stretch just the slightest bit (yet more than you ever have), and sigh sweetly.

“Mm…” You hum, eyes fluttering close for a minute. The soft noise of praise you can’t distinguish and the featherlight peck on your inner thigh bring you back to the moment.

“Good job,” is all he says. Yet it’s all enough. You see in his gaze the fascination, the utter reverence in his stare that makes you want to curl up into yourself and scream into the sheets to never rise up again. But you keep your stare on him.

Boba lifts himself up, resting his knees between yours to spread you out further and join you on his expansive bed. As if you couldn’t relax any further, your shoulders practically sink into the mattress beneath you, and his eyes twinkle.

He must love this.

You’d hope so, at least.

“Hm, look at yourself, little one.” The praise sends you into another frenzy, breathing low in your stomach stagnated. “‘Getting stretched out nice and good. Taking my fingers like a good little princess.”

“Boba,” You sob quietly, feeling the digit sink deeper into you. Many times you’ve brought a release with your own fingers, but they’re nothing compared to his. Not as big, not as thick. He just manages to be gentle enough to leave you only slightly uncomfortable, yet the slow movement of his hand and wrist rocking back and forth, back and forth is already bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Boba can feel it.

“How many fingers do you need, baby?”

You mouth something that he doesn’t seem to understand, instead deciding for you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear.

“Three?”

The only thing you can do is whine and rock your hips.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Boba answers his own question, pushing in a second finger with little resistance from your body and fucking you with his fingers steadily. “`Gonna need some stretching if you want me to deflower you.”

You just manage to stave off your orgasm until he gets a third finger in, leaving you positively soaked and stretched more than you’ve ever been before. Boba stays silent, breathing in his stomach while cradling the back of your head. His free hand tucks strands of hair behind your ear when you come down with soft sighs and hiccups. All the while, he talks; you’d never think he’d be talking in the bedroom as much as he does.

“Mm, you’re doing so well, little one.”

“Feeling okay? It’s okay if you can’t speak. Just nod, yes or no.”

“Nuh-uh. Just stay like that. Let me make this good for you.”

When you catch your breath, you see Boba’s already taken off the bottom part of his armor, leaving him just as bare as you. He meets you on the bed, pressing his knees on either side of your legs and resting your head on a plush pillow, bunching your hair to keep it out of your eyes. The simple considerate gesture has you reeling.

It’s still oddly blunt, nonetheless. Only the slimmest layer of sugary pleasantness coats his actions; you still see the hardened, rough, unrelenting man he is. But it’s in an entirely new light now. The roughness is all his way of handling you the way he wants, ensuring you’re satisfied and taken care of with no trace of unhappiness left in your body. In the determination, there is thoughtfulness.

Boba lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, forcing your chin to stop looking at where your bodies will meet and inevitably join and instead into his eyes.

“I’ll make you feel good, little one. I promise.” He seals the guarantee with a sweet kiss, holding your chin to angle your face properly. 

When he pulls away, he pushes barely an inch forward and you gasp, suddenly strung tight by nerves.

He’s incredibly gentle. But he doesn’t go slow.

The thick girth of his cock stretches your pussy out, even more than his fingers, unrushed and carefully, despite how taut he keeps his stomach. As you observe his face, you begin to question if Boba is even breathing.

Despite his caution and gingerly stretch, there’s still a twinge of pain that rushes through you. It’s washed, practically doused and drenched by your own arousal, your own wetness, and the deep, low, perpetual throbbing in your lower stomach.

Boba presses his forehead to yours and you finally hear him let out a deep exhale.

“That’s it,” he praises with a groan when you involuntarily clench, finally processing the new sensations all throughout your body.

Suddenly, you’re whining and hiding your face in his shoulder when he pulls out slightly, the slick link of your bodies causing a slight difficulty to disconnect. As he presses back in, your words are pathetically gracious, pure reverence as you take only a fraction of all Boba has to give you. One day you’ll be able to take it all. This is just the beginning. But this is already so much. So much you might just cry.

It’s still incredibly difficult to process that he not only chose you, but let you choose him.

So you whine out,

“Thank you.”

ragu list: @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @lickylickylicky @urmomsmattress @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @imarvelatthestars

#nour writes stuff #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the book of boba fett #tbobf #tbobf fanfiction #book of boba fett #boba fett #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett smut #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader #star wars the book of boba fett #sw tbobf #sw #sw fanfiction #sw smut #x reader #reader insert #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 31)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 30

Warnings: whew. okay everyone. i'm sorry about this one. this chapter is pure pain. angst and emotional torture and a major character death. tread lightly and read this only if you're doing okay. i'm so so so sorry. that's just how the story goes.  

Summary: As Anakin races to your aid, you find out more about your mysterious, violet-eyed attacker. A major shift occurs in your life, altering your relationship to the Force.

Word Count: 4.6k

"Anakin, be reasonable," Obi-Wan pled. The two Jedi Knights hurried alongside the outer perimeter of the Guild headquarters, where their battalions had, thus far, managed to hold the base.

         "I'm going after them," Anakin promised, his brow furrowed as he turned to look at his former Master. Obi-Wan's face looked exasperated—the stress and exhaustion from the battle read in every line near his eyes, in the way his mustache moved to the side. Anakin knew Obi-Wan well enough to see the fear and worry behind this carefully cultivated façade.

         "Anakin, you mustn't let your feelings cloud your decision-making," Obi-Wan implored, rounding the corner toward the recently constructed command center at the center of the Guild, where Rex and Cody waited to consult the Council via hologram. The Jedi back in Coruscant were waiting to hear about the progress on Felucia, but Anakin didn't care about the Council. He didn't care, at the moment, about the 501st holding the Guild from separatist forces. He was beyond concern for the war. He only knew he needed to get to you.

         "Yuma signaled for help, Obi-Wan!" Anakin fumed, his jaw clenched, his breath coming hot and tight out of his nostrils. "Do you really believe she would have signaled for anything less than—"

         "No," Obi-Wan responded, slowing his stride as the two of them neared the rudimentary command center. "I don't believe she would have signaled needlessly. But—"

         "But nothing. They need our help. Something's wrong, I know it, I...I can feel it." Anakin felt his chest tighten at these words, his worry and anger closing around his heart like a fist. Why couldn't Obi-Wan understand that you were in danger!?

         "Our orders," Obi-Wan said with a tired, heavy sigh, "are to remain at the Guild. If we are unable to hold the front here—"

         "I know our orders," Anakin spat, breathing hard. He turned his angry pout on his former Master, who looked back into Anakin's eyes with concern. Anakin shook his head, trying to clear his anger, trying to focus. He took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going after them," Anakin said shortly, turning to head back in the direction they had come, back toward the perimeter of the Guild, toward the direction of Yuma's signal. "It is your choice whether to come or not."

         Anakin turned to walk away, his angry stride starting to break into a jog as his thoughts turned to you. He knew he shouldn't have separated from you, he thought angrily. If anything at all happened to you...Anakin couldn't consider the possibility. His insides turned to steel, a hot, heavy, twisted metal, and he quickened his pace. You were his whole world, his reason for existing. He would not allow anything to happen to you.

         Behind him, Anakin heard Obi-Wan heave another sigh. The sound of his Master's quick steps growing nearer reassured Anakin that Obi-Wan was, at last, seeing reason. The two Knights hurried away from their duty, toward the sound of the distress call they knew they must answer.

You strained, trying to pull at the restraints around your wrists, around your ankles, but the heavy metal bounds wouldn't budge. You were held in a restraining plastron that stood in the middle of a large, empty cavern. You searched the ceiling and looked into the sides of this voluminous cave, trying to discover a way out, but it was too dark for you to grasp your surroundings fully. The only shapes around you were the many stalagmites that rose from the stone floor. The cave itself seemed to be whispering to you, making noises that were not noises that could be made without a voice. The humming continued. You felt your head drooping, felt your consciousness pulling away from you. You gritted your teeth, fighting to remain in the present, fighting the battle with your brain fog and winning.

         The woman with the violet eyes leaned up against one of the larger stalagmites, watching you with a malicious expression on her face. When you looked into her eyes, the whispering voices in your mind grew louder. Why were you having this reaction now, in the presence of this woman who, while an enemy, was certainly not a Sith? Why were you struggling to maintain a hold on your consciousness? The cave continued to whisper, as if deriding your questions, as if mocking you for your ignorance. You struggled against your restraints some more.

         "Let me go!" you yelled again, infusing into your voice all the Force command you could muster. The woman sat watching you, a wicked smile gracing her lips, but she did not respond. You tried again. "You will remove these restraints!" you shouted, but the woman simply laughed.

         "This is entertaining," the woman drawled, her voice jogging your memory in a sickening way, your stomach turning. You felt outward toward her in the Force, feeling her anger, her hatred, her...insecurity? The instability within this woman raged within her like a fire, burning up every thought. You felt her presence like you were holding something that burned your fingers. You scrunched your eyes closed, trying to force her impression out.

         "I'm aware of your abilities, you know," the woman said, and you opened your eyes, glaring at her where she sat so casually. "I can see what you're trying to do. But your intuition won't help you now, I'm afraid." She pushed herself up off the ground where she sat. "Knowledge of what's to come won't stop it from happening."

         "What do you want with me?" you spat, glaring at this woman and feeling the hatred from her presence lap at your insides like a flame. Or, maybe, you considered, this was your own anger. You took a breath to calm yourself. You mustn't lose focus.

         "Retribution," the woman said casually, holding up her hand and looking down at her nails, as if she were bored with this conversation. "Revenge, I can admit. And pain." She looked back up at you and took a few steps closer, smiling with her teeth in a way that made your insides squirm. "I want you to feel pain. And you will." She cocked her head, turning to her left. You felt their presences coming in—the people entering the cave felt fear, a sickening, all-encompassing fear, a fear mixed with ire. You turned in your restraints to regard three large men carrying a heavy-looking crate. You gasped, recognizing the one with the bald head and the lightning tattoo. The man looked up at you as the henchmen approached, giving you a menacing glare.

         "Yes, I am not the only one who wants revenge," the woman continued as the men set the crate down in front of where you were restrained. "She will suffer, my friend," the woman said, signing her speech with her hands to the man with the tattoo, who grunted in response. "But the pain must wait."

         The men walked away, and you tried to turn yourself around in your restraints to see where they exited, but it was no use. You were bound too tightly. The woman stepped forward and pressed the panel on the side of the crate. As it opened, you felt the sounds of the whispering intensify, those low notes continuing in the back of your mind, a long, melancholic chant. You felt your eyes roll back into your head, and you fought, trying hard to regain your eyesight.

         "Convenient," you heard the woman say, and you pushed your eyes forward, regarding her with blurry vision. She'd stepped even closer to you, leaning in, her purple irises alight with some foul emotion you felt swelling around her. "That this," she continued, gesturing with her hands toward the cavern around you, "was once a dwelling place for a Sith Lord and his apprentice." You felt her thoughts turn to her henchmen, and their fear as they regarded this place. You started to understand. "I knew, of course, that you would be difficult to subdue," the woman continued, "without a little help. And since my uncle refuses, for some reason, to touch you, I knew I needed to get a little...inventive."

         At these words, your thoughts started to spin. Her uncle? Who was this woman? And how did she have such knowledge of the Sith, of the ways of the Force, if she wasn't a Jedi? She couldn't be even five years older than you were. You felt her presence turn sour, her anger singing you from within. You forced your eyes open, so that you could look at her.

         "Yes, I can feel your confusion," the woman mused, her brow furrowing. "Though we are not all gifted in the Force as you are, these rudimentary changes in energy are apparent. To me, anyway." The woman laughed without humor.

         "Who are you?" you asked, knowing that you would be able to decipher the answer in her thoughts. The woman smiled an evil smile as she lifted her head out of the crate. She raised her eyebrows. You couldn't see what was in her hands.

         "Ah, yes, I suppose your abilities would come in handy when seeking information," she said, but you only half heard her. You were concentrating on the images and impressions flashing through her thoughts—Count Dooku was there, and you delved deeper, feeling into the woman, feeling her memories. You saw her as a child, petulant, moving things with her mind. You saw Dooku, yelling at some other man, felt the child's emotions. She was crying. You felt other things too, things you couldn’t decipher.

         "Dooku...is your..." you began, trying to piece it all together.

         "My uncle," the woman seethed, standing up and looking you head on. You saw in her hands a large needle. You swallowed, bringing yourself back to the moment. You felt the woman's anger at Dooku's name. "Yes," she continued, walking to your other side, holding the needle in front of her. "My uncle became, as you might know, very disenchanted with your Order. He refused," she continued, stopping to study you, "to allow anyone in his family to join." You felt other images flash by in her mind—images of Dooku hitting her across the face, pushing her to the ground, shouting at her.

         "He hid you," you stated, looking deeper into her mind, trying to glean any information that might help you escape this mess.  

         "Yes," she answered, her eyes showing just a hint of the pain you felt raging within her. "He made sure no one would ever find me. He made sure I learned every sick, twisted ability he could teach me. But I was never enough for him." She paused, reading your reaction as you felt her memories, her pain from her training.

         "He shouldn't have done that to you," you started quickly, taking advantage of her silence. "Had you been found by the Order, you would have been trained differently. But it isn't too late—"

         "It is," the woman hissed, "altogether too late. For me," she grinned, her anger twisting her face into that same, wicked smile, "and for you."

         "What does any of this have to do with me?" You asked, confused.

         "Ah," the woman laughed. "Well, my uncle wasn't too happy with me after our little meeting on Serenno. You remember?" she asked, and the memory of it came back to you, though it felt like a lifetime ago. You and Anakin, searching Serenno for answers about the separatist attacks on the senators. You thought of Anakin with a pang, remembering the fight you'd had after your first encounter with this woman, wondering where he was now in the battle raging outside the cave, whether he was okay.

         "Yes, you and pretty boy caused quite a stir between me and my dear uncle," the woman grimaced. You thought you could sense the ghost of a scar across her face, one that might have been made by a lightsaber. "And, of course, the Count was furious that I had encountered you, furious that I had betrayed details about his involvement to the ones so special to—" she cut off at this, and you sensed, for the first time, fear in her presence. What had she been about to say? Special to who?

         "Regardless," she continued, "I didn't forget that you bested me then, and I planned to make it up to my uncle. Earn his favor, or, at the very least, escape his...wrath." You furrowed your brow, confused. "I wanted to kill you, you see," she said, "to make up for my mistake. But my uncle told me you were not to be harmed, not to be dealt with." This piece of information stopped your thoughts in their tracks. Not to be harmed? As instructed by Dooku? How could that be?

         "I listened," the woman added, continuing her story. "I did not attempt harm you, though I admit I resented you even then. I didn't understand why you were known to my uncle, why you and your precious lover boy were not to be touched. I started to wonder what my uncle was hiding, when he would slip away. I wanted to know who he was conversing with, at night, why he shuddered with fear at random moments." The woman paced to your other side, the needle looming large in her hands. "But I was careful. I began to eavesdrop, collecting what information I could, while still performing those menial tasks for my uncle—sending bounty hunters to scare the senators, trying to stir up dissent within the Republic. But then—" she cut off, her face twisting, and you felt that she might as well be talking to herself, her presence so deep in her memories. "Then I was sent to attack a senator on Levangé." You swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. "A job I thought would be simple, a task I knew I could perform to get back into my uncle's confidence." The woman's face screwed up in anger, and she stepped forward again, looking into your eyes.

         "You ruined that for me too, you see," she said, her eyes level with yours. "You got me captured, got me interrogated, thrown into a Republic cell. My uncle was furious." You looked down, seeing that she was squeezing the needle, her hands straining around its large barrel. "Sure, he...liberated me," she said, laughing a harsh laugh. "But he punished me. He was terrified of his secrets getting out, you know." The woman took a breath, as if she was losing control on her calm pretense. "He banished me, once he was done with his punishments. I was turned out like a common rat. And all for him to declare himself, not even a week later, to the Republic. All for the war to start, for his schemes to be made public." You wanted to keep this woman talking, keep her focused on her story so you might find a way out of this, find your way back to Master Yuma, wherever she was in this mess of tunnels. You focused your Force energy on your binding, trying with all your might to unlock the mechanism, but it was no use. Your hands and legs remained bound.

         "So you see, all of my woes can be traced back to you," the woman was saying, her eyes on you, her face in a slightly maniacal smile. "I lost everything. All because of you. You ruined a lot of things for me," she said as she leaned forward, looking into your face. "You took away my family, took my position, took my uncle's fascination...and, without the purpose he had given me, I started to seek a new purpose. Revenge."

         "You...you don't have to do this," you whispered, looking around frantically. "I didn't take those things from you. You were born into the worst of circumstances, but you can still—"

         "Still what?" the woman asked derisively. "Still lean into the 'light side of the Force'? You will soon learn," the woman snarled, "that there is no such thing as the dark and the light. There is no difference between the Sith and the Jedi, Y/N. Both seek power, mastery of the Force. The only difference is the wording they use when they speak of their methods."

         "How do you know my name?" you asked breathlessly, looking back to the needle in the woman's hands.

         "I know all about you, Y/N. I eavesdropped plenty on my uncle, and his conversations with his...Master," the woman fumed, and you felt again the pinpricks of fear in her presence. "I know that you and your precious Anakin Skywalker are to be 'preserved' for him," she continued. "I know that, because of this, I cannot harm you. I cannot kill you. They would find out," she smiled, holding the needle, looking like she wasn't all there in her mind. "They would come after me, and kill me. I don't know why they bother with you, why they discuss you and your friend..." the woman stepped up in front of you once again, sizing you up, your form much shorter in stature than hers. "So I had to be clever, when planning my attack. I still have contacts in the separatist movement, you know. It wasn't difficult to visit a few of their bases, trying to form a plan. And then I stumbled on this wonderful place," she explained, raising her arms and gesturing around the cave. "Knowing, as I know, that you struggle with your so-called 'dark side'...I thought a Sith dwelling would be the perfect place to hold you. But how to get you here!" The woman laughed shrilly. "It has not been easy. I knew I needed to push the separatists as far toward your Guild as possible, knew that if the situation were dire enough, the Republic would send you, their prized student. And I knew I needed to do it without attracting my uncle's attention." The woman breathed deeply, as if she were basking in her success. "It took longer than I expected. But finally, you arrived. And now I will find my revenge. I can still hurt you." She reached out with her hand, touching the side of your temple. You bristled at her touch.

         "My uncle was terrified that you would find out anything about me," the woman continued, switching the needle from her right hand to her left, like she was playing with it. "He hid me even from his own Master, you know. And perhaps that is why he sent me away—I was becoming too much of a liability." She laughed again, her eyes darkening. "But I don't care to follow his rules anymore. You will know my name. And you will remember who it is that causes your pain." You looked at the needle again, and back into her eyes, your presence finally giving over to fear.

         "Vyra," she said plainly, reaching out and touching your hair, as if you were old friends. "My name is Vyra. And you don't have to worry about this," Vyra added, gesturing to the needle in her hand. "It isn't for you."

         It was then that you felt the disturbance—the presences moving toward you, the rift in the Force, as if something were being set in motion, as if the song were swelling toward forte, the symphony reaching its final act. The whispering voices in your head joined the cacophony, growing louder, growing excited. Your head ached from the effort it took to stay present, to keep your consciousness in the here and now.

         "Bring her in, boys," Vyra said in a manic, evil tone, her smile taking over her whole face. You turned to regard the same three henchmen carrying something, walking toward you. You strained to see the limp form in their arms.

         "No!" you shouted, your eyes filling with tears. You pulled at your restraints, pushed out with the Force, your fear and panic swelling along with the voices in your head.

         "Yes," Vyra contradicted as the men lay the unconscious form of Master Yuma beneath your feet. "I would have preferred lover boy, of course," she added casually, like you were discussing the weather. "That was the original plan. But he is well protected, and when your Master," she continued, the word rolling off her tongue contemptuously, "basically fell into my lap? Well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. She was so easy to collect, unconscious as she was. She fell from quite a height."

         "No!" you shouted again, as loudly as you could, your voice grating against your throat. "Let her go!"

         "Your Force command is useless, here," Vyra said slyly, reaching to prop Master Yuma's unconscious body in a seated position against the nearest stalagmite. "But it's entertaining to see you struggling so much. Please, continue."

         "What are you going to do to her?!" you pled, continuing to struggle against your restraints. "Let her go, now!"

         "I would have thought it was quite obvious, by this point," Vyra responded, rolling her violet eyes. "Even your intuition doesn't allow for basic deduction skills, I suppose." Vyra pressed the needle against Master Yuma's neck, almost gently, injecting her swiftly with some kind of clear liquid. When she was finished, she stood up, admiring her handiwork.

         "It should only take a few minutes," Vyra explained, her face the face of pure evil. "This is a fun concoction that my uncle tends to use on his...enemies. It will make her see things," Vyra clarified, taking a step away from Master Yuma and back toward you. "See unpleasant things. It's an excellent form of...emotional torture. And I thought, since I am not able to harm you, physically," Vyra added, stepping until she was inches away from your face once again. "How else to torture an empath?"

         Your heart beat madly in your chest as you watched Master Yuma start to twitch. How were you going to get out of here? You needed to think quickly. You saw, underneath Vyra's dark cloak, the form of a lightsaber—Yuma's lightsaber. If you could distract her, you might be able to wrest the lightsaber from her through the Force. But how to use it, with your hands bound as they were, above your head?

         "No..." Yuma whimpered, and you looked back at her, horrified, watching her form start to shake. "No, no, no..." Yuma was shaking her head back and forth. You felt her presence descend into terror, felt your own following hers. Her eyes shot open.

         "NO!!!" Yuma shouted, looking around wildly, her eyes unfocused.

         "Master!" you yelled for her.

         "No, Y/N, no!! No!! Get away from her!! Stop it, stop hurting her..." Master Yuma yelled wildly, her eyes unseeing, her body jolting back and forth, reacting to the poison's effect on her mind.

         "Master, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you started to sob, your own body shaking. You could feel every dip in your Master's presence, saw with her the vague impression of yourself...of yourself being threatened, of yourself being hurt.

         "Isn't it excellent?" Vyra asked, her eyes alight with excitement. "I did not know, of course, that the images her mind would conjure to torture itself would involve you...how fun!" Vyra clapped her hands together.

         "Stop!! No!! NO!!" Yuma was shouting, and in her mind you felt the impression of dead bodies all around her, piling up. You saw through her presence your own form, lying on the ground, unmoving, your eyes open, your mouth gaping. You saw Anakin's form lying next to yours, and Obi-Wan's next to his. You saw with Yuma a pile of dead Jedi.

         "No, no, Y/N, no, it's all my fault..." Yuma cried, her head shaking back and forth, her hands pushing into her eyes.

         "No, Master, no..." you sobbed, trying to think clearly through the voices that were laughing, jeering in your head. "No, it's not your fault, Master, it isn't real, it isn't real, Yuma, come back to me!"

         "It's all my fault," Yuma said again, "I tried, I tried..." From where she was slumped against the rock, you saw that her unfocused eyes had tears streaming from them.

         "No, Master, no, it's not real, I'm going to get us out of this, I'm going to help you, Master!" you cried, looking around wildly, screaming in the Force, asking for something, anything that would help you get out of here, anything to help you fight. You strained against the bounds on your hands and legs, pressing with all your Force effort, willing them to open. They wouldn't.

         Vyra stood next to you, leaning in, looking into your eyes, enjoying every moment of your agony. As you turned to look at her, every part of your insides seemed to erupt. You spat at her, your body still raging in the Force, trying to get out of your bondage.

         "You see what I mean," Vyra said gleefully, "about the dark and the light? It's all a myth, Y/N. You'll know soon enough." You felt Vyra's thoughts turn to the kill.

         "Um, Vyra..." you heard one of the men say, approaching quickly.

         "What?" snapped Vyra, turning to the man reluctantly.

         "Code blue. They're close."

         "No!" Vyra screamed in rage, her hands balling into fists. "Urrghh!" She swiped at the air with her long limbs, hitting something imaginary.

         You felt the voices swelling around you, the hum echoing against the cave walls, blocking out every sound. You pushed against them with all your might.

         "No," whimpered Yuma, her pain tinging the air around you.

         "Ruining the fun..." you heard Vyra say, as if to herself, and you looked at her, seeing that her face was calculating. "Only one thing to do, now," Vyra said, her face illuminating as she took Yuma's saber from beneath her own cloak and lit it.

         It happened as if in slow motion. You felt your body twist, screaming at your restraints, pressing yourself forward toward your Master. Vyra kept her eyes on you as she leapt toward Yuma, pressing, in one, quick motion, the saber's green blade directly into Yuma's chest.

         "NO!!!!" you screamed, your sight turning to black, your feeling in the Force so strong that you thought you might shatter your own blood vessels, shatter the cave around you. You felt the stalagmites begin to crack.

         "Until we meet again," you heard Vyra say maliciously, and you wrenched your sight back to reality, trying to see through your blurry eyes as Vyra pocketed Yuma's saber and leapt into the air, disappearing upward into the darkness.

         "NO!!" you screamed again, your head turning backward and forward, looking around for your attacker, straining against your restraints. Your rage continued to shake the ground, continued to cause the stalagmites to crack. But there was no one left to attack—Vyra and the henchmen were nowhere to be seen. You breathing was coming in large gasps, your mind unable to comprehend your surroundings, your entire self shying away from what had just occurred. It couldn't be. Yuma couldn't be...

         "Master," you whimpered, looking through the darkness at the form slumped over against the stalagmite. "Master....master..." you continued, as if compulsively, begging the universe to let her respond, begging her through the Force to wake up. "Master! Master!! MASTER!" you shouted, reaching out through the Force, feeling forward toward Yuma's insensate form. But you couldn't feel your Master there, you realized. You couldn't feel anything.

         You kept your heavy lids open, beholding the unmoving form of the person who was your family, your mother, your father, your mentor, your safe harbor, your source of comfort and knowledge and love. The person who had taught you every important value you held dear. As you looked at her, you saw, to your astonishment, her form vanish, her clothes falling empty to the ground.

         It was then that you descended into madness.

************************************************************************

But there's no happy endings, not here and not now this tale is all sorrows and woes you dream that justice and peace win the day but that's not how the story goes

Honestly very sorry for this. This hurt to write. To anyone who cares about this story--I'm sorry! But this is how the story goes.

Another chapter is up NOW so don't dwell in your misery, go read

divider credit to @racingairplanes

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#star wars #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker x you #star wars prequels #angst #star wars angst #slow burn #hurt comfort #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #my very soul #the clone wars #clone wars anakin #anakin fluff #anakin x fem reader #anakin x you #anakin imagine #star wars imagine #clone wars fic #jedi oc #jedi reader #jedi

[im-a-wonderling]

Rescue Me Masterlist ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary: Originally the padawan of a Jedi master turned Sith lord, Y/N fumbles her way through the Jedi life as Obi-Wan’s padawan. To her surprise, life as a Jedi holds different lessons and challenges than she originally expected.

Part 1 - 7.5k words

Part 2 - 7.7k words

Part 3 - 8.1k words

Part 4 - coming soon!

Check out my masterlist for more fanfic!

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan fanfic #obi wan fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #padawan!reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan x padawan #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Prompt 10 with either Fives or a clone of your choice from @the-bad-batch-baroness list of prompts? 👉👈

The Long Way Home [Fives x Reader]

Prompt ten: "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "It's starting to rain."

List of all prompts found here [X]. Prompt will be highlighted in blue.

Warnings and Information: Wanting a taste of domesticity the moment he gets shore leave, Fives wants to spend the day with you doing general couple-ly things. A little shopping at the early winter markets of Coruscant, and utilizing every excuse to shower you in all the compliments he can to make up for lost time. When the weather has other ideas regarding your shared plans for the day, Fives is determined to make the best of a less than ideal situation. 

This is a general fluff + relationship fic at its core; friendly for all ages this go-round. Reader written with fem!reader in mind, not described save for minor notes about clothing and briefly implied (but not specified) height difference. Fives being a sweetheart. Sprinkling of Mando’a as a treat. As an additional treat, Order 66? Don't know her; Palpatine died and the Republic won the war. 🩷 2nd person POV. 

Word-count: 5,912

There's a knock at the front door of your residence, one you've been eagerly expecting most of the morning. You're quick to reach the door, keying him in so he can step inside where it's warm. He's late; which he had warned you about well in advance. And the first thing he offers before his usual hellos is an apology. 

A well-practiced one at that, from the warm cadence of his voice, brimming with just the right amount of shame.

“I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, mesh'la, I-”

You tug him close with the collar of his civilian wear (a thick, handmade sweater given to him by Hardcase who had recently taken up knitting since breaking one of his legs - so you're certain to handle it delicately) in a very practiced motion. As expected, it shuts him up just long enough to get a word in while he puts himself nose to nose with you. Practically close enough to taste the words on the others’ lips. “Hey. It's okay Fives. I understand the captain probably needed your help with something, or, you volunteered yourself to help. Again.” Your partner with his well-groomed goatee has a penchant for stepping up and lending a hand to a brother in need, brave and dependable to the end. 

Full lips dart apart, the tender flesh brushing over your own lips being this close is nigh impossible to avoid. “Are you teasing or expecting an answer?” Fives asks, hinting to his building confusion below a toothy grin. “Makin’ it hard to tell what you want when I can’t see all of your pretty face.”

That's fair of him to say, you should suppose. “Mostly teasing,” you promise him, at last permitting yourselves to kiss one another as part of the process - brief, chaste, sweet. “You know I wouldn't press you for details if it was classified ARC business.” You never have. Never will until you know the mission has been completed at least; because while you often burn with questions (as is only natural and expected in what was once a friendship, now a partnership) pertaining to his duties and practiced protocols within the GAR, you take the mantra “loose lips sink starships” very close to heart. 

Should you ever say something that could jeopardize the safety of the one you love, you’d never forgive yourself.

“No, not ARC business,” Fives offers at last, “I, uh… I told you I was gonna be running late because some of my brothers asked for my help with something kinda last minute.” The palm of his left hand strokes the back of his neck in a self-soothing fashion, a tell of either embarrassment or shame. “I couldn’t bring myself to say no…” 

“Young brothers?”

Fives only answers with a nod and an appeasing smile, knowing where this is going. 

“Star-struck little brothers wanting to ask what’s it like being an ARC trooper, and how they can train to be just like you?” you muse, exaggerating your train of thought with a couple of taps against your chin with the finger of your non-dominant hand, the other arm wrapped across your body.

It does not slip your notice how his tanned face begins to look a little flushed when you playfully bat your eyes at him for good measure, knowing what that kind of praise does to him combined with the light teasing. 

“More or less…” 

You giggle, not at him or at his expense, but more the mental image than anything. You can picture Fives, being as eager as he was to come see you now that he had shore leave, getting roped into regaling doe-eyed Clones with lengthy recountings of his service since becoming an ARC. All he wanted to do was peruse the early winter markets with you, the entire idea his from the start; and there he was, at least an hour of his precious free time used up already. All because he was too much of a selfless and wholeheartedly good person for his own good, on occasion. 

“I’m sure they appreciated you and Echo doing that.” Fives doesn’t have to mention his surviving squadmate, Echo, to know that the other half of the nicknamed Domino Twins had sacrificed his own time to answer a few (or a hundred, more rather) burning questions. “I’m sure the captain did, too.”

The humble grin is confirmation enough for you. You can continue to tease him later, however - you’re both wasting daylight the longer the two of you choose to linger in your comfortable Coruscanti apartment rather than getting the rest of your things ready. Light coats or other appropriate outerwear still needs to be gathered, the credits you’ve been setting aside for this occasion needs to come out of hiding, and he still needs to collect the rest of his civilian-wear he planned on wearing. There’s only so much space within trooper accommodations for everything he’s accumulated since the start of your relationship. Thick-knit hats, fleece-lined gloves, a scarf in 501st blue, things of that nature. 

And boots. It’d probably be wise to grab a pair of all-weather boots rather than tromp the markets in your slipper-socks, no matter how tempting the smooth streets would prove. 

Fives is ready far sooner than you, owing to how little he needed to add or change into to be more weather-ready, but he waits patiently. No teasing remarks for how long it takes you to disentangle a simple scarf from all the others, or the childlike nature of repeating the phrase that helped you remember how to tie your shoes even to this day, or any of the other silly little habits you comfortably show in front of him. There’s only a warm, endeared smile to be seen. He’s just happy to be here, to be in your presence after so long, and see all these little puzzle pieces into why he loves you as though for the first time, every time. 

“What are you staring at?” you ask with a bemused laugh bubbling up from your throat. Time to time, you struggle to figure your partner out, wondering what can be chalked up to his training and what can be passed off as quirks unique to him. You’ve gotten better with time and practice, being able to discern these instances. “What’s on that beautiful mind of yours, Fives?”

“Nothing more than perhaps the most beautiful person in all the galaxy, cyare.” Fives replies in earnest, dazzling you with one of those smiles that had charmed you since the very beginning. “And how I get to spend most of my first day of shore leave with that person, all to myself.”

Torn between scoffing and brushing him off with oh surely you can’t mean the most beautiful person thing and trying to shield your flushing face from view, so certain your cheeks must be scarlet red with all the flattery, you busy yourself with ensuring your door is locked and secure against unwelcome visitors. There’s been a minor rash of break-ins lately, and you know that a simple door lock won’t do anything to deter the truly determined - only the honest - it always seems to get a bit worse just before large deployments get shore leave… funny how that goes. 

At least you get a little help when it can be spared by those serving with the Corrie Guard, given your proximity to the senate buildings here. There was no small amount of surprise the day Commander Fox himself turned up at your doorstep to follow-up with a reported break-in for the unit above your own. He could claim he was there just to ask if you happened to notice anything, and nothing more than that, but you knew better. Working in loose relation to the complex goings-on with the Galactic Senate and the red-clad commander turning up only two hours after mentioning the incident to Fives was too big a coincidence to ignore. (You can only wonder what strings in the line of communication your smarty-pants of a boyfriend had to pull in order to get in touch with Commander Fox, directly.)

A smarty-pants that you had all kinds of preconceived plans to spend the rest of the day with, all to yourself. 

The ambling walk to the marketplace offers the pair of you plenty of time to catch up since you last spoke on the comms just over two weeks ago; it was a Zhellday if you're not mistaken. 

You don't really bring up your work if you can help it; the problems seem so trivial when you compare them to the frustrations of stamping out those stubborn pockets of Separatist resistance Fives and all his brothers have been dealing with since winning the war just a year ago. A malfunctioning caf-machine spraying your last clean work uniform seems like nothing compared to a desperate firefight against the horrifying, mechanical amalgamations the standard CIS battle droids have become as less and less functional droids become available. 

You have to ask Fives to be sure you heard him right after he says it. “Hold on: it had eight arms?” 

“Some Separatist-sympathizer - one who's, admittedly, crafty but incredibly elusive - has been a real pain in our shebs for a while now. ‘Case was so badly spooked by the crazy-looking clanker that he fell over backwards on a crate full of smuggled produce.” Fives explains, struggling not to laugh when explaining of all possible ways Hardcase recently broke his leg, it was falling over backwards on a box of illegal fruit and veg. 

“He’s okay, right?” you prod, “What'd Kix have to say about the break?” 

It's touching to Fives when you show your concern for his brothers, knowing you have genuine interest in their well-being. You always have. When you heard that the production of the cloning facilities were coming to an end on Kamino thanks to Chancellor Organa’s new bill, your immediate thought had been for the young cadets who had not yet finished training. 

What's going to happen to those little brothers, Fives? All the Clones still developing in the tubes and the nurseries and-

Mesh'la, with any luck, they'll become the envy of the entire GAR. They'll never have to taste war like we have if we squash out the remaining Separatists sooner than later. 

Fives gives the cuff to one of the sweater sleeves an experimental tug with a beaming smile. “Kix said the worst of it will be the bed rest for Hardcase. At least he's found a way to keep his hands busy between the physical therapy he has to do, thanks to Dogma.”

“Aww. That was kind of him.” you croon. He mirrors the relieved smile, sharing in your relief that his brother's injury was not as bad as you feared. He begins fishing through one of his pockets for something, saying he has a picture to show you. 

“Hardcase made Dogma the ugliest possible blanket using yarn we had scrounged up for him as a way of saying thanks. Thing's got all sorts of colors from baby pink, to brick red, even a smidge of neon yellow somewhere in there.” 

Without question, the immaculate bunk within the frame can be none other than Dogma's. Laid out in a uniform manner is a tidily-knit but disorganized rainbow of yarn in every shade of blue and a handful of other colors. (Sure enough, you can pick out the baby pink, the brick red, and the neon yellow Fives previously mentioned.) Honestly, you think it looks ugly only because there's no reason or order to any of the colors. A crisp, sky blue next to the imagined dryness of such a dusty shade of red is a bit jarring, visually. 

‘Case was likely working with the colors of yarn as he received them, if his brothers were coming up with loose odds and ends as Fives claims they did. 

You voice the question that crosses your mind the more you look at the image in your boyfriend's hand, “Does Dogma actually use the blanket, or is it just for show until it's time to sleep?” 

“Wondered that myself.” Fives admits to you with a cheeky wink between thumbing over to the next picture, a still of Dogma tucked under both the GAR-issued blanket and Hardcase’s, “It was so worth pretending to be asleep for forty-five minutes just to get Dogma to go to bed.” Dogma's always been the last to fall asleep within shared accommodations, so for the ARC trooper you're arm-in-arm with to have pulled the oldest trick in the book in order to get to the bottom of a low-stakes mystery, you can only imagine how disciplined you'd have to be to lay so still and silent for that long. 

“Why not just ask him in the morning?” you laugh, realizing how simple it would be to do just that rather than go through such efforts to trick someone into going to bed. Fives shrugs noncommittally in response before tucking his personal device away again, now that you're both within earshot of the outdoor winter market. 

It's bustling with activity, even for Coruscant. The pressing crowds and all-encompassing noise will make it difficult to carry on catching up in a meaningful manner for much longer. 

“Dogma's not much of a talker in the mornings, sweetheart.” Fives says with a chuckle. “Though to be fair, not a lot of us are either.” 

Strange… they've always seemed so… talkative and alert whenever you've had early morning communications with Fives. Those bleary-eyed video calls spent simply staring at the other, not too sure what to talk about in particular. The stolen minutes between breakfast in the mess hall and the barracks. (The lunch breaks where you've snuck off somewhere secret and pretended you're sharing the same ration, they've been talkative for certain!) Have you just done a poor job of noticing until now? Or are they better at masking how awake they truly are than you expect? But okay, fair enough. 

Now that you were here at the market, you’d be more than a little preoccupied to be thinking about it much longer, with Fives tucking his fingers between yours to prevent both of you from getting separated from the other. It’s rather busy; it must be the morning rush before everyone has to reluctantly shuffle off to work. And you should probably expect to have more than a few elbows - or entirely unaware people - knock into you and Fives while you’re here. 

What catches Fives’ eye first is a female Besalisk vendor with armfuls of rain repellers for sale (one for five credits, or two for ten) with a business partner checking news sources for reports on the weather nearby.

“Ah… knew there was something I forgot to check before getting to your apartment.” He says, quickly casting his eyes skyward. Certainly enough, there are rain clouds gradually building overhead. Strange. While it is technically early winter, this time of year typically has a weird, transitional period regarding the weather. Not quite past the sometimes cold and drizzly days of autumn, but still too early to dust off your proper snow coats from where they've been hiding in the back of your closet. 

“Let’s get one to be safe.” you suggest with a reassuring squeeze of your hand in his. If you buy one of the repellers and end up never using the thing, then you were over-prepared with little consequence. Having one more thing to carry wouldn’t be that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, surely. “Hi,” you address the vendor cheerfully, “a repeller for five credits, right?”

“That’s right! Pick whichever one you’d like, dears.” she tells you with a kind wink, thrusting the set of arms bearing all of the rain repellers a little further for your inspection. 

Fives wastes little time in selecting a repeller with a sleek and subtle design, something he thinks you’d like, perhaps. He’s incredibly thoughtful in that and many other ways. It’s one of the many parts of him that you ache for in his absence, the fondness for his charisma and slight cheek only deepening when he’s away, aiding in the peacekeeping efforts now that the galaxy is largely free of the Separatists. (How strange that things fell apart so suddenly for them, following shortly after the rather untimely and unexplained death of Sheev Palpatine (that, surely, can’t be related, right?) just last year.) You know he’s not giving up the fight just because they say the Seppies have surrendered, not when there’s still work to be done to make the galaxy safer for everyone. 

Fives isn’t still fighting the good fight just for his brothers, but for you too. Every last far-flung outpost they capture, each bubble of resistance they burst, it’s always the same message that finds its way to you, no matter the time and no matter the distance. 

For the Republic. For my brothers. For my Kar’ta. Talk to you soon, sweet. 

Both of you thank the vendor, and set off on your way, imagining what curiosities and delights could be found by the two of you together on this cold Coruscanti morning here in the intergalactic market. With a cultural hotbed like this - a diverse focal point in the heart of the galaxy with a population of roughly two trillion that is Coruscant - there’s no telling what you and Fives will see, from the familiar to the fascinating. 

In a dramatic, sweeping gesture Fives invites you to lead the way into the heart of the market with a dizzying grin, promising to follow wherever you roam.

“After you, angel.” 

You’ll only be there for an hour before the increasingly-inclement weather decides to become a little more concerning. Those cotton-soft clouds, planted in the lofty airspace high over even the tallest sentient lifeforms’ head(s), are beginning to appear denser and darker than they were when you set off this morning. Weather reports you peek at while Fives discusses something with a Tatoonine-born vendor suggests you might have another hour before proper rainfall.

“You say the yarn’s a bantha-blend, right?” Fives clarifies, gingerly juggling a few twisted hanks of it in his hands to get a feel for the softness. “Would it work for projects meant for… say, kids?” The vendor’s eyes flick to you, just for a second, and you can imagine what she’s thinking. Your partner catches that too, so Fives clarifies further. “Someone I know had twins last year. Tryin’ to, uh, contribute to a special present for the little ones. Brother of mine got some good yarn from Naboo to represent the mother. I was asked to find something to represent their father while I was here, if I could.” 

As could be expected, the yarn-seller is now tittering excitedly about how sweet it is that he and this unspecified brother (who’s definitely either Jesse or Kix) are looking to put together something for this ‘someone they know’ who had twins. Sweet little twins who you’ve happened to see crawling around the floors of the senate building out of the corner of your eye, as a matter of fact. But you’ve been aware of the “open secret” nature of the Skywalker-Amidala twins for some time now, and know you’re supposed to treat it like it’s more of a classified matter than it is in reality. 

Yeah, how strange that Senator Amidala and General Skywalker spend a lot of time together. Or that little Luke and Leia show up in the Jedi Temple on occasion, just as a last minute “favor” to the Senator - of course! 

“Yes, the yarn should be appropriate for the little ones!” the vendor promises, exchanging the appropriate credits as change from what Fives hands her as payment before gingerly bagging the hanks of bantha-yarn for him. “You’ll find a card with the best care instructions with your purchase inside the bag. Thank you for your business, folks.” 

When you've stepped beyond the earshot of the yarn-seller, now again arm-in-arm with Fives as you meander the little sector that seems to be dedicated to all things Tatooine, you feel it's safe to tease. 

“You're getting better at lying, Fives.” 

“Mesh'la-” Fives warns you.

“Okay, okay… Stretching the truth, if that's what you insist on calling it, mister ARC trooper.” you add. 

Fives doubles down on the insistent, close to disapproving tone. “Mesh'la… I've told you several times now, you know why we treat it like a secret.” 

“I know, Fives, I was only teasing.” you promise, offering an apologetic expression. 

You understand the faux secrecy is largely in relation to the response of some members of the Jedi Council when the inevitable truth about Senator Amidala and not just one child, but two, came to light. There's been a great deal of speculation from the 501st Legion of Anakin Skywalker’s expulsion from the Order; speculation that has them worried. Selfless to the end, the Clones are just as concerned for the fate of their General as they are about their own.

You change the subject as you pass a stall brimming with food-based goods from the Outer Rim planet, a warm, spicy odor cutting through the ambient smell of chilled steel and duracrete surfaces. Looks to be samples of an alteration to bantha steak soup. Something being offered to the market-goers to warm them up as the temperatures fall day by day, or hour by hour.

“Remind me: ever tried any food from Tatooine?” 

“Some of it's decent.” Fives admits with a chuckle. “Or, it will at least beat having rations for every meal. But nothing beats your cooking, cyare.” 

Your cooking, among many things, is what Fives has been looking forward to most about today, about shore leave. A chance to come home, a chance to catch one another up on the things they’ve missed (things too important or lengthy to say over comms), and a chance for splitting a hearty meal practically invented for sharing with the ones who mean the most to us. Same thing with coming to the market. Fives didn’t want to do a little shopping just to see what was new on Coruscant; he wanted to spend a little time with you away from home first, maybe find something special to buy to mark the occasion.

To be home after so long is a very special thing indeed.

“Hope you’re in the mood for soup tonight.” It’s a little simple, you tell him, but no less comforting or flavorful. “Didn’t know how tired you’d be, when you came home this time.”

“You spoil me.” Fives murmurs lovingly, craning his neck for the moment to plant a sweet, gentle kiss in the crown of your hair and against your temple. His full lips are warm, and where you’ve been kissed seems to glow with that warmth compared to the surrounding chill. “What’d I do to deserve you, kar’ta?”

There’s that word again. Pronounced KARH-ta, as he’s taught you.

It's Mando’a, meaning heart.

“Well, you kept the galaxy safe,” you answer with a sweet smile, “I think that’s a pretty deserving reason, don’t you?”

The warm, heartened smile is all you have to see to know he feels the same way. He helped keep the galaxy safe, yes; of course he should deserve to live a good life with everything said and done. With every bill and law passed towards the betterment of life for Clones after the war, it tastes like the sweetest victory, over and over again. If there was anyone more deserving of thanks, it was the mighty multitude of men who came from Kamino. 

As you’re turning the corner of a larger booth within the sprawling outdoor market, Fives mentions that somewhere down the lane he can hear a live performer playing covers of popular songs on what must be a hallikset. 

“Must be another one of your little soldier tricks,” you tell him with an impressed shake of your head, “I can’t hear any of that. What’s a hell- hall-? Wait, what did you call it?” How did he pronounce that so easily? 

You’re not surprised with many a Clones’ proclivity to be little cultural sponges that Fives seems to have the answer ready for you before you can pull something out of your pocket to search up the instrument he mentioned for yourself. “Halliksets are seven-stringed instruments popular on Naboo. Here, let’s get a little closer.” Fives offers, leading the way ahead to where he hears the music coming from. He wants you to be able to hear it better, to experience it for yourself. Appreciate it fully.

You momentarily pity the player’s poor fingers once you get closer, noting how red with cold they are. Like you, the hallikset’s owner is wrapped in layers between a thick jacket, a gray hood and a long scarf wrapped around their neck. But with the beautiful way they play, plucking and strumming each perfectly tuned string, you wonder if they don't notice, or care. Perhaps the lack of gloves to keep their hands safely warded against the cold is worth it to them for the amount of credits they're pulling in. There's several fistfuls at least, all piled up in the open instrument case. 

“Wow… I don't think I've ever seen one before, but it's beautiful; it's a beautiful instrument.” you offer your observation to Fives after spending a few minutes to simply stand and listen to the performer. Buskers, you believe they're called, playing for voluntary donations in public settings. 

The busker offers an appreciative grin, playing on smoothly without pausing the performance for even a moment as they bob their head in thanks for your compliment. 

“Certainly is, mesh'la.” Fives agrees. He dips a hand into one of his pockets, and adds a couple of credits to the pile in the instrument case. As a way of thanks, the song that was currently being played is masterfully morphed into one of the more familiar military anthems of the Republic, just for a moment. 

The performer, a young-looking Twi'lek, has of course recognized that Fives is a Clone, and is hoping to acknowledge what the Republic has done for Ryloth in some small way by playing something a soldier would recognize. Fives is equal parts flattered and amused, even if he himself may never have gone to Ryloth, that he's being thanked and acknowledged like this. 

“Heh. You're welcome, kid.” 

Putting his free arm around you as you decide to listen to the hallikset a little longer, you and Fives listen to the best recognized music forms of Ryloth start up from the instrument as further homage. You lay your head on your boyfriend's shoulder, leaning into his side a little deeper with a placid smile, drinking in this moment. 

Close to an hour later, when more yarn for Hardcase, a few decorative knick knacks for your apartment, and some novelty sweets have ended up among your purchases, someone’s stomach rumbles in complaint shortly before the time you would typically consider having lunch. Luckily Echo has offered to help you locate something by sending you a file to a map of the market with all consumables stalls highlighted and labeled after checking in on how things are going for you and Fives. 

While Fives quickly speaks with his brother and squadmate, you check the weather. Steadily, it’s only gotten colder, and in efforts to keep you warmer, Fives has sweetly given up his thick-knit hat for the time being until you come across another stall that offers cold-weather wear. There, he’ll find another hat for himself, suggesting you keep his. The fluffy curls of his clone-standard crew cut have been flattened a bit by the hat, amusingly. As a sweet gesture, you try to fix up his hair for him while listening to what Echo has to say.

 Force willing, as it’s only becoming more and more likely that it'll rain, that will be after you grab a quick bite to eat. 

(Pantoran food sounds good right about now.)

“Me? Oh, all was quiet on the homefront - busy playing a strategy game against Rex. Until we got ambushed by a couple of giggling womp rats.”

Fives grins like a nexu. “Brothers’ kids or the General’s?”

“Tup’s little boys,” Echo answers jovially between peals of bubbling laughter in the background, “things are getting a bit rowdy here, so you two better go. Enjoy your lunch and the rest of the market; I’ll tell everyone you both said hi.” 

“Thanks Echo.”

“We’ll talk later, Echo.” you promise. “Also, I’m keeping your brother all to myself tonight.” Echo’s laugh promises that’s fine by him. He trusts you’ll take good care of Fives, like he takes good care of you in turn. He’ll pass along the information that everyone will see Fives again the following morning. The Clone with the Aurebesh ‘5’ permanently inked on his right temple can only offer an eager smile. 

A homemade meal and the promise of staying the night when it wasn’t previously discussed? What better way to end a day than that? Fives walks with a spirited spring in his step, just short of tugging you along after him at first before you match his pace and revel in that excitement together. 

Excitement that quickly turns to surprise with the first of the rain starting to fall over the market. There’s a particularly heavy raindrop that lands with an audible spatter on Fives’ left shoulder. He chuckles, the sound somewhere between an amused ‘of course…’ and a nervous ‘uh-oh’. He’s patting down his deep pockets for wherever he’s stashed the rain repeller purchased earlier, since it could very well start raining steadily by the time you reach one of the food stalls that peddles any Pantoran cuisine.

“Did you feel that?” he asks, eyes flicking skyward between some of the many imposing, glinting skyscrapers that make up the surface of the ecumenopolis. It’s a small relief that you’re not quite out in the open, like you would be if the market had taken place in a location like Monument Plaza, at the least. If the rain got intense, fast, Fives could easily squeeze the pair of you into a dry alcove somewhere in the absence of the repeller now in his hands.

“Hm? Feel what?” you wonder just before you feel another droplet glance off your own coat. “Oh.” 

So much for getting lunch…

“It’s starting to rain.” the two of you say at once. And while it’s not quite sleet, it certainly feels close to it every time the stray droplet finds a patch of exposed skin. The idle prattle of buyers and sellers shifts in tone; a few surprised shouts here and there while vendors urgently cover their wares, and a few shoppers brushing past panickedly exclaim that they’re faced with taking the long way home because of street-closures tied to the event-space.

Thankfully that won’t be the case for you and Fives with the direction you came from your apartment, so long as the dispersing crowds allow. 

Opening the repeller, Fivers now pulls you closer, trying to fit it over both of you best he can. “Here, mesh’la. Wouldn’t want you to get cold and wet… That wouldn’t be a very pleasant combination, now would it?”

“No,” you agree with a little wag of your head, “buuuut, heading back to my apartment and calling in an order for delivery sure does.”

Fives brings up an excellent suggestion while you busy yourself with making sure all your purchases are safely in your arms before the pair of you about-face and make for home. “With a movie to watch, too, right?” Oh Maker, there are so many films you could choose from to watch; there’s always something new that you learn your beloved hasn’t seen, being so wrapped up in the pan-galactic war and its aftermath. Even films you don’t particularly care for become tolerable when you’re snuggled on some comfortable two-seater together, your head planted against his chest as he runs his hands through your hair in idle fashion.

You’re wholeheartedly in support, already impatient to burrow into that large, fluffy blanket with him.

Cupping his face in one hand, you kiss his cheek best you can as you walk, copying his deliberate stride. “That sounds like a great idea, Fives.” It’s kind of a shame that the weather put a bit of a damper on how long you had in mind about spending at the market, you add with a soft sigh.

He smiles, encouraging you not to let it get you down. “Not gonna let a little rain ruin my first day of shore leave, so long as I get to spend it with you, ner kar’ta.” Fives promises, being his sweet, joking self by downplaying the amount of rain. It’s gotten past ‘just a little rain’ at this point in time, with puddles forming atop the duracrete surfaces, some with multi-color veneers to them where the oils previously soaked into the street float to the top. 

As the freezing rain builds in strength, it patters and trickles off the rain repeller in thick rivulets while Fives holds it over each of your heads - it’s kind of a tight fit underneath, but neither mind. Making sure both of you and your purchases remain relatively dry means it’s a slow, steady march back home. It’s probably taking you twice as long to get back home than it was to get there. You could be taking some long, convoluted path, and you wouldn’t mind a bit with the way Fives has one of his arms so lovingly, kindly wrapped around the small of your back, both to hold you close, and to make sure you hear him when he talks.

“I’ve got a few stories to tell from this last deployment, besides ‘Case breaking his leg.” he starts, a note of mirth in his tone. “But there was one thing I kept thinking about, more than anything.” Fives adds, the slow cadence suggesting this is important.

Before you permit your mind to race with the possibilities, the many guesses you have, you bob your head, encouraging him to go on. 

“I’m listening.”

He wastes no time, sure of his words, but maybe not how to say them. “I wanted to ask if maybe now’s a good time to… Y’know. We might start thinking about a couple of things, now that the war’s over, and things are getting safer…?” You could practically swoon, knowing what he’s trying to tell you. What he’s thought about while he’s been deployed with those who’ve chosen to remain in service to the GAR for just a little longer, aiming to finish the job they’d been made for. 

For the Republic. For his brothers.

For you, his heart.

How would you feel about spending the rest of our lives together, cyare?

“Sounds like a good conversation to have over dinner.” is all you’ll suggest for the time being, bringing his face close once more for another caste kiss with the door of your apartment in sight. 

If you’d known he’d had this on his mind just a little sooner, or there was no premature rainfall to dampen your plans, maybe you would have suggested taking the long way home after all, just for the fun of it.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose Taglist form can be found here if you would like to make sure you don't miss a fic in the future. Thank you for your patience, and thanks for reading and requesting. 🩷

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