#that the yearning will stop and he will find comfort in the memory of anakin’s arm around his shoulders once he’s left the order and obiwan

[tennessoui]

brain will not let me sleep until I say

same age padawans au where they’ve been in a weird wired frenemies thing for ages but now that they’re both mature adults (all of 24/25 years old) they’re more friends than enemies….

And it’s Obi-Wan that Anakin tells when he’s decided he’s going to leave the Order, not anyone else. He has a wife. There was a pregnancy scare a few weeks ago and it made her want their relationship to stop being a secret so they could really have kids. He has to leave the Order. Doesn’t Obi-Wan understand?

Obi-Wan, who has been a little in love with Anakin since they were younglings, does not understand. Not one bit. Instead of wishing him well and helping him pack, he goes to the Council and requests a mission in the Outer Rim….perhaps a month long or more…perhaps undercover? No contact with anyone on Coruscant. And maybe they could assign Anakin Skywalker as his back up? He can help with the undercover aspect.

And at first, Anakin is pissed because he was planning to resign from the Order in the next few days, but Obi-Wan convinces him to go on this mission with him….one last mission as a Jedi. To say goodbye to the Jedi life.

Obviously, Obi-Wan sort of wants to go on one last mission with Anakin because in his dreams, he wants the mission to go so perfectly that Anakin stays with him the Order. But realistically, he mostly wants to go on this mission to say goodbye to Anakin and then let him go, soaking up all his warmth and light, memorizing every casual touch bestowed on him because he knows they’re ticking down to the last handful of seconds together.

But then obviously the mission works TOO well and Anakin falls in love with Obi-Wan but doesn’t admit to it even to himself before they’re on the ship about to head back to Coruscant and Anakin realizes he doesn’t want to leave this planet because he doesn’t want to leave Obi-Wan if it could always be like this so he crashes the ship during take off so they can stay longer because he’s 24 and doesn’t know how to handle the immensity of his love except through destruction

#Kit’s silly lil AUs #obikin #I couldn’t finish the Democratic fic part today writing was so hard :( #I offer this instead <3 #hopefully will get it up tomorrow #but anyway: no physical cheating but probably emotional infidelity as anakin falls in love with obi-wan but doesn’t notice #and a lot of pining but being brave about it obi-wan which could also turn into finding his rebound in the outer rim obiwan #which would then turn into seethingly jealous anakin #+ bonus points is that their cover is theyre newly weds #and obi-wan is like <3 you can touch me mister we have an open marriage <3 #and this poor guy at the bar is being stared down by a vicious anakin and he’s like uh does your husband knkw that ???? #but yeah here for pretty newly knighted obi-wan creating a situation where he gets to feel anakin touch him and kiss him on the cheek #and hold his hand and call him pet names #all the while being convinced that this is all he will ever get so he has to be satisfied with this #that the yearning will stop and he will find comfort in the memory of anakin’s arm around his shoulders once he’s left the order and obiwan #to be with his wife #also obi-wan gets wasted one night and someone asks how they met or when they fell in love #and obi-wan accidentally tells the drunken truth #not the cover story #and it makes anakin go 👀🧐 #but then he gets too drunk and forgets it

[anakincentric]

mdni. minors & ageless blogs will be blocked. warnings: dark content, dubcon, sexual content, angst, hurt/no comfort, implied smut, established relationship, dom!anakin, brat!reader, suitless!vader, objectification (f receiving), possession (f receiving), humiliation (f receiving), size difference, death mention.

"doesn't she make you yearn to trust her?" lord vader's words pierce you with their double meaning, silently pleading with him as you gaze warily into his black abyss-like visor. something about his expressionless suit petrifies you. fearing him and what he's capable of with an upturn of your brows and a weak brace against his chest, but his hold on you is steadfast. because of his anger that flares while looking at your pitiful countenance, his gloved hand moves to palm your jaw, your chin tucked into the webbing of his thumb as he squeezes your cheeks. harshly, he directs you to look at the rebel leader on his knees. "doesn't she?"

the rebel leader's defeated figure breaks your heart. as vader's attendant, you hadn't learned the truths of the empire until now. you were brought up to believe it was the answer, but after finding yourself sympathizing with the traitor that kneels here before you, your lover sought to teach you a lesson in loyalty. an inkling of conviction exists in his eyes as he searches you, as if he'll only believe the truth if it comes from your mouth. "she does." the leader replies, inviting you to address the room. your heart cracks.

lord vader appears satisfied, straightening to his full height as he curtly releases you. an ache in your neck pangs when your head jerks from his force. he's furious with you. and you worsen it when you go to approach the man you'd deceived. "i didn't mean -" swiftly, you're caught. mean, wrathful hands dig their claws into you and you wince as he draws you right back. punishing you for acting out of turn.

you collide with his chest, and like a little doll, he maneuvers your movements in a cruel twirl and dance. showcasing you, humiliating you. "what a dedicated little actress you are." he taunts, and you can hear the hurt behind his jeer. "you seek to torment this man even at the end of his life. were you to apologize?" by the sound of his tone, he wants you to know how pointless it is. how selfish you are for believing a worthless apology will do anything other than absolve yourself from guilt.

weakly, you protest against him, but his strength and size far surpasses your own. "stop it." you plea so softly. he curls around you as you arch away, lifting your feet from the ground like you're nothing as you shy from his brutish behavior.

he grants your wordless request, and unceremoniously he tosses you to the ground. you fall, and your knees and wrists take the brunt of the impact, pain shooting through them. "well, go on. prove to him how penitent you are. beg for forgiveness after your report killed his comrades. revealed the location of his base." you can't tear your eyes from the floor, attempting to tune out vader's orations. you can't stop hearing the parallels of how they apply to himself and to this leader. truly, he feels betrayed, and your fingers clench into trembling fists.

"are you proud of yourself, dear one?" the sith lord breaks the silence a second time, and you swallow hard, gathering your courage as heavy boots round your dejected form, on all fours. you sit back on your legs, and lift your head.

"i'm -" the apology dies on your lips at the sight of the rebel leader's chest bursting with red light. vader's merciless figure standing tall behind the corpse in his execution.

as you sit in your chambers after the ordeal, you holding your hands in your lap. the shock of it all has not left you, tremoring through your little body as flashes of memories pass behind your eyes. you see your fists on the floor, the body slump to the floor, your lover snatching your bicep to yank you to your feet and tow you out. you're still in trouble with him, and all you can think about is how that man died because of you.

a hiss sounds, but you pay it no mind. lord vader removes his helmet, setting it aside with a heavy thunk. his sweaty curls spring up, and he runs a glove through them, shaking them out at the end of the motion as he breathes deeply. the dear face of anakin skywalker turns to look at you, and he approaches your seat on the bed. the bed you two share, and now it's tainted with the consequence of your betrayal. he has yet to decide what to do with you, and he pinches your chin to make you look up at him. you jerk out of his hold, and he rolls his eyes with a sigh, a mean hand tangling in your hair to use that instead.

you flinch, peering at him through one defiant eye as your grasp the gauntlet on his wrist for purchase. "what? what do you want?" you cry, clearly upset with him. he searches your glare, only to release you - seemingly disinterested - and shoves you down by your chest. you land on your back with a bounce, and scramble to prop yourself up on your elbows. "stop it!" you repeat your phrase from earlier, but firmer this time, picking yourself up to challenge him, boring into him with a scowl. "go away! i don't want you here! - mmph!" he interrupts you with a kiss. hard and demanding, it's as if he seeks to shut your shrill voice up. at first, in your disbelief, your arms had surrendered, quickly bracing against his shoulders. when you attempt to break it, jerking back, he merely chases you, a huge hand coming to catch the back of your head in order to keep your lips pinned to his.

even as you fight against him, pushing and banging your hands against his chest, he does not falter. a strong arm straps around your waist to arch you into him. the sharp angles of his suit dig into you and you emit indignant noises against him as he breathes hard through his nose. he pries open your lips, inviting his own tongue inside as he hastily tastes whatever he wants. you open your eyes, surprised at yourself for considering biting his tongue to take the power back from him. there's a different energy to his ministrations, a level of desperation as if he's trying to fill a hole. in more ways than one.

since your mouth cannot form words, you do the best you can. incredulously yelling at him, "what are you doing?" which sounds like a mess of sounds, but the familiar inflection is readable. he pulls back, a thick string of saliva connecting the two of you as you pant against each other's lips. "how dare you refuse me?" he talks into your mouth. you've been fighting him this whole time, and still he insists on wanting you. "do you have any idea the fate i've delivered you from?" your brows deepen, defining your bewilderment. stunned, he takes advantage of it, backing you up and catching your stumbles, before planting you firmly on the bed. "do you have any idea you're alive because of me?" his words heighten in volume and enunciation. "you owe your existence to me. the least you can do is exalt me with your body."

"i'm mad at you!" you shout, and when you move to get up he keeps you there with his hulking frame hovering over you. he latches onto your neck since your mouth is unwilling.

"and i'm furious with you." he punctuates it with a scrape of his teeth against your pulse point and you shiver. "where is your penitence for your lover? where are my reparations?" you cry out his name in a scold as his hand slots itself between your thighs to cup your sex. "give her to me." a familiar heartbeat pulses between your cunt's lips, recognizing the touch of your lover even though your mind steels itself against him out of anger. momentarily, you forget it. a jellying pleasure emanating from your core as you slack underneath him.

is this a way of punishing you for being a rebel sympathizer, however brief? you don't know. but when you learn of what he's done to shield you from the greater wrath of the emperor, you allow your lover to enter you in your gratefulness. assuaging him until you can address the hurt you both caused each other.

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#[🌸] #:anakin #au: suitless!vader #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin x reader smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin x you smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x you smut #anakin x fem reader #anakin x y/n #anakin x y/n smut #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin fic #anakin fanfiction #smut #cw: dark content #cw: dubcon #cw: size difference #hurt/no comfort #dddne #source: pinterest

[wutroows]

the way (ahsoka tano x reader)

pairing: ahsoka tano x fem!reader warnings: mutual pining! god angst but SO MUCH FLUFF a/n: i love ahsoka so much so i knew i had to write something about her. this is super fluffy and just rly sweet overall. your master is also non binary and uses they/them pronouns!! hope you enjoy!! the reader’s species isn’t specified, but female aligned pronouns are used. requests are open! posted on november 27th, in honor of the new episode of the mandalorian! 

you knew it was wrong. 

you knew it was against the jedi code and everything you stood for, but when you met her all of the code flew out of your mind and the only thing you could think of was her. the way her eyes shown bright with determination and passion for learning, the way she carried herself with confidence and the grace and poise in the way she walked. the way she looked at you for the first time, welcoming and friendly, and the way her hand stuck out to meet yours. the way her hand felt warm, enveloping your whole body in a sense of comfort.

you knew it was wrong, but that didn’t stop you. 

her name was ahsoka tano, you learned from your master, the day you met her. it fit her well. she was beautiful. everything about her was. you were afraid your master would be able to tell that you liked her, but they never mentioned it to you. 

but you still knew it was wrong.

you knew it was wrong when you stared into her eyes as she spoke to you. you knew it was wrong whenever she playfully bumped her hip against yours. you knew it was wrong when you were jealous of that politicians son, lux bonteri.

the way she looked at him was the same as the way you looked at her. 

it made your chest tighten up and your fists clench at your sides, but you kept quiet. she never would love you, anyways. what was there to even say to her? you still would have her in your life even if she and that boy kissed, or even started dating. it would all still be the same.

except it wouldn’t.

ahsoka tano was not yours, and you understood that. you understood that when you saw her hand entwined with lux bonteri’s on onderon. you hated that, but you could never hate her for liking someone else. you never hated lux bonteri. he seemed like a genuine person, someone kind and loving. he was someone ahsoka deserved. she deserved better than you. he could offer her the life she deserved and you couldn’t.

ahsoka tano didn’t see the looks you gave her, the way your eyes would stare helplessly at her until someone would strike up a conversation with you. the way you hardly ever smiled around anyone else but her. she noticed none of it, and thought that you were just a really good friend. even after her quick romance with lux bonteri, she came to you for everything. you were her best friend, and she thought nothing more of it. 

then she left the jedi order.

it was painful to see her leave and you wouldn’t deny it, but you had to move on, and so you did. over time, your feelings for the togruta began to fade.

and then she decided to come back. 

she was taller now, montrals hanging over her shoulders and eyes still as fiery as ever. her smile was still kind and her personality still beautiful. seeing her brought back memories of the two of you, and now that you were older you realized that your feelings for ahsoka never really left. you just repressed them, pushed them into the back of your mind. 

when she was gone, you spent a lot of time with her master, anakin skywalker. he was a wreck, she was only gone because of a crime she didn’t commit and now that she was back she was no longer a jedi. 

she didn’t have to follow the code anymore, but you still did. you still couldn’t love her, no matter how much you wanted to. no matter how much your heart yearned for her, you could say nothing. you could do nothing to prove to her your love for her. 

you could remember the vivid feeling of her arms wrapped around your shoulders when you came back from a mission with your master. the mission wasn’t too dangerous, just some simple conversations with the leader of a planet the republic wanted to add to its allies, but this was how ahsoka tano greeted you every time you came back. the tips of her fingers would graze the back of your neck, and you could feel chills run up your spine. 

and then there was the way she would look at you.

she sits across from you now, lekku hanging over her shoulders and as she looks at you, you feel yourself want to disappear. she purses her lips, and takes in a deep breath. this would be the first conversation you would have alone since you were both young teenagers. “it’s been.. a long time.” you hear her mutter, and you nod. you can’t form words just yet. ahsoka stands up, and you notice how much taller she’d actually gotten. she was wasn’t taller than you as a child, but now your eyes stare at the tip of her nose. she sits down, next to you this time, and you can feel her gaze on you. 

“what’s it like?” you let out after a few moments of sitting in an awkward silence. “what’s what like?” ahsoka asks, and you finally look up at her. she’s staring right into your eyes, and you feel yourself wanting to kiss her again. “not being a jedi anymore.” you say, and she shrugs. “weird.” she says after a moment, and you nod. it’s silent again after that.

“how was he? after i left?” 

“hurting, but he was okay. he knew it was the best for you to leave.” you say. she’s talking about anakin, and from the corner of your eye you can see her nod, but only just. “and rex?” she asks. you turn to look at her again, and she looks deeply concerned. “rex was.. okay. the rest of your boys were too. they were upset, but they knew just like your master did.” 

she’s pursing her lips again, but she says nothing. “did you know?” you ask her. she looks confused, eyebrows furrowed together. “nothing.” 

“no, what? what are you asking me?” her voice is determined, and you know you’re caught. this would be it, the rejection and the embarrassment. “did you ever see how i looked at you then, ahsoka?” you mutter, just loud enough for her to hear and you can see her freeze. she almost looks like she’s buffering, but she thinks.

she did notice the way you looked at her, but she thought it was nothing. the soft glances exchanged in training as kids, and the way your touch would linger on her skin as if it were the only thing in the galaxy that she wanted. she noticed the way you would smile at her, your eyes would crinkle upwards they would sparkle the way she loved them to. 

but you never noticed the way she looked at you.

the way her eyes would always linger towards you and the way that rex would always point it out. the way that she would rest her head on the palm of her hand and admire you from the other side of a room and the way she’d be listening for your laugh. she loved the sound of it, and she loved everything about you. 

did you really feel the same way about her?

she looks at you, slack jawed and wide eyed. she’s speechless, and you stand up. you extend your hand out to her, and she takes it after a brief moment of staring at it. 

the familiar warmth of her hand in yours makes that comforting feeling explode in your chest and the way her eyes are pouring into yours makes you feel a bit dizzy, but you don’t let go of her hand. your other hand quickly finds hers, and you entwine your fingers together. 

this wasn’t with lux bonteri. this time, she was holding onto your hand. 

“and how were you..? when i left?” ahsoka manages to get out, and you sigh. “i was hurting really bad, soka. really bad.. but i pulled through. i spent a lot of time with your master after you left.. but we got through it, we knew what had to be done and you did it.”

“you’re courageous, ahsoka. you’re brave, you’re kind and you’re selfless.. and, god.. i don’t care about what the council says anymore.” you’re laughing, and she’s laughing, the two of you are pulling each other closer with every word you say. “and by the force, ahsoka tano.. i want you to be mine.” you finally say, and you can see a smile form on her face. 

“i will.” your heart feels like its about to explode as she speaks, but you wrap your arms around her neck, and she pulls you close to her by your waist. you’re chest to chest and your face is buried into her neck. she’s warm, and she’s beautiful. you don’t care if you can’t see her face, you practically have all of her features ingrained into your brain.

and now she’s yours. 

she pulls away from the hug and you can see her eyes dart from your eyes to your lips, and you start to laugh as she looks at you without any form of embarrassment showing up on her face. “what? can’t i stare at my girlfriend?” ahsoka says, and your heart speeds up at the use of the word ‘girlfriend’ coming from her mouth as she refers to you. “yeah, you can.” you say back to her.

her hands remove themselves from your hips, and they sit on your jawline. her thumbs run across your cheeks as she admires your features. you feel yourself starting to get shy as she admires you. its the way that she treats you as if you were a flower or a piece of glass, fragile, about to break in her arms if she weren’t careful enough. she holds your face in her hands and for a moment, it looks as if she were about to cry. she shakes her head, but she’s teary eyed. “what’s wrong?” you mumble, arms coming underneath hers to mirror the way she’s holding your face. the tips of your fingers trail across the white patterns across orange skin, and you feel yourself start to smile as you look at the beautiful girl in front of you. 

“i.. i’m okay.” she stutters, but she has a smile on her lips. “me too, ahsoka.. i never.. thought you liked me like this..” you mutter, and she stares at you, her face now devoid of emotion. “are you serious? i thought i was so obvious.” she states, and you start laughing again. “it definitely wasn’t!” you’re saying through laughter, and she bursts into laughter after a few moments of trying to hold it in. the sound of your laughter is music to her ears, and the smile on her face never fades as she stares at you. 

ahsoka, your ahsoka, is looking deep into your eyes, and you start laughing quietly. “why are you looking at me like that?” she rolls her eyes, “i just want to kiss my girlfriend, y/n, that’s all!” she jokes with you, but without missing a beat, you reply, “okay.” 

and she’s frozen. 

the two of you stand in each others arms, but she mutters, “really?” and you nod. you can almost feel your heartbeat pounding out of your chest as her gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips. “please, you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this.” you say, and that’s all she needs to hear before her lips are on yours. 

you feel your breath catch in your throat, because her lips are on yours and she’s warm, and her eyes are closed and you’re standing there in shock even though you knew it was coming. you still thought this could’ve been just a huge, elaborate prank. she’s really kissing you, and you finally come to your senses. your eyes close after a moment, and you lean into her touch. this was your first kiss, and you were sharing it with the woman of your dreams. you can feel her smile against your lips, and you start to wonder what she’s thinking as her hands gently move to the back of your neck, fingertips running over the bare skin that you had been so used to before. 

the chills. 

and then she pulls away for a breath, but by the time you could say anything, she’s kissing you again. you couldn’t complain, you wouldn’t. ahsoka’s hands are warm and so are her lips, and they’re gently moving against yours. your hands gently move from her jaw to her waist where you pull her closer to you, if it were even possible, and you hear her sigh. 

she pulls away again, and you’re half expecting her to kiss you again. you wouldn’t mind, but instead her hand finds yours and she holds your entwined hands out in front of you. “i could get used to this.” she chimes, and you smile, pulling her into you again.

finally, being kicked out of the jedi order was in the back of your mind. you knew about anakin and padme being married, why would this be any different? you loved ahsoka, your girlfriend, and if you had to leave the order to be with her then so be it. 

it was the way she caresses your hand that pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“the.. council-” she says. she sounds upset, but you shake your head and put your finger over her lips before she could say anymore. “-is the least of my worries, right now. i have you here, with me. if you say the word, i’d leave the jedi order.” 

and it was the way you aren’t lying, and she can see it in the way you look at her. 

and the way your lips press to hers again. 

#star wars #female reader #ahsoka tano #wlw #ahsoka tano x reader #x reader #fem reader #star wars imagines #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars x y/n #female x female #star wars the clone wars #ahsoka tano x you #ahsoka tano x y/n #reader insert

[obiwns]

sneak peak; close to the stars

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: slow burn!obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader. in this one specifically, it’s platonic!padmé amidala x jedi!reader.

𝙖/𝙣: hey guys! i’m sorry this took forever but here’s a sneak peak since y’all are being so patient and understanding. i tagged my obi taglist just in case, i hope you like!

𝙤𝙗𝙞 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙨: @softmaul , @outofdaylight , @rosionis , @karasong , @aty-cgca7 , @katans , @kat-soudone , @acnini , @thegirlwhocreated , @cinnamonrollsofthestars , @whatsasetitoff , @tarrevizsla , @dressed-up-heartbreak , @naptillidie , @fantasticchaoticwho

chapter one. masterlist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

languor: lethargy or weakness in body and mind.

“It’s a wonder how the Jedi council hasn’t caught wind of you and Anakin’s relationship.”

The senator from Naboo stills at your words, but she quickly regains her composure and gives you a confused smile over her shoulder. She takes a sip from her glass, fingers shifting against the cup before turning her body to face you.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she responds, head tilting faintly as she observes your features. She’s confused, truly, and by the way her face began to flush, you know your answer.

You shift in your seat, propping your elbow up on the armrest of the couch, casting your gaze to the landscape outside her room.

It’s pretty, without a doubt. The Coruscanti sun is barely beginning to dip into the horizon, melting the sky into a plethora of oranges and reds. You hum softly and shake your head.

“Don’t play coy with me Padmé.”

She laughs uneasily.

“I’m not trying to.”

Your gaze returns on to her and you give her a look, eyes narrowing pointedly and a brow raising questioningly. Her facade crumbles underneath your gaze and she looks almost hopeless, but yearning.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” she begs, walking over and settling beside you on the plush couch. She sets her drink down on the glass table side, her soft, dainty hands finding yours and holding them. “As my friend, I ask you not to.”

You’re ready to laugh at how easy she was to exhort, but the seriousness in her face stopped you from doing so. You shake your head and look at her in wonder.

“You two are, by far, the worst secret keepers in the galaxy.” She laughs and you chuckle, a smile raising the corners of both your lips. She sighs longingly, tearing her hands away from yours and to her cup, gulping down the remnants. “I mean– seriously?”

Padmé gently hits your shoulder and shakes her head, another disbelieving laugh spilling from her lips, “I can’t help it. I’m so hopelessly in love with him.”

You can’t help but notice the twinkle in her eyes when she mentions Anakin. You smile despite the heavy feeling in your stomach.

She suddenly turns to you, “What about you?”

Your brows furrow at her question.

“What about me?”

Padmé rolls her eyes at you and raises her brows, her head shaking, “Is there anyone I should know about?”

You laugh and shift in your seat, reaching for the untouched glass of wine she left for you. You sip it tentatively and make a satisfied face at the sweetness.

“Of course not. Jedi are forbidden to have attachments– I mean, with the exception of Anakin, of course.” You look at her and already see the discontent on her face. You quirk a brow in defiance, but a sigh leaves you when she deepens her stare. She gets up to refill her glass.

She sips, then turns, “Not even a certain Jedi general we both know?”

You know she’s talking about Obi-Wan. Your face betrays you and she smirks victoriously. She returns to her spot beside you on the couch.

“That’s nothing. Just a..” you trail off, looking away from her and surveying the room– like it would fathom the words for you, “work friend. We respect each other.”

“He speaks highly of you,” she tries, her tone light and teasing. As much as you adored her, you hated that voice.

You shake your head, “simply because he finally understands I’m not some damsel in distress he needs to look out for.”

She continues to give you a look, the same one you gave her just moments ago. You sigh and look down shamefully.

“I don’t know.”

Padmé takes in a breath to steady herself, “what does your heart tell you?”

It’s cliche, you have to admit, but there’s a sudden weight on your shoulders when she asks. She notices and gives you a sympathetic frown, her hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder. Her thumb rubs reassuring circles into your clothing, letting you know that your secret's safe with her.

“I hate his arrogance and his self–righteousness,” you start, your brows furrowing as you start letting out the much needed steam, “I hate that he’s right– which is almost all the time.”

You pause. Your fists grips onto the loose fabric of your dark robes, balling them into fists.

“I hate his condescending tone whenever he speaks to me– like I’m inferior– or when he says something and makes me look stupid in front of my troops,” you vent, voice full of frustration. You sigh and release your robes from your clutch, fingers rubbing at your temple. Shamefully, you add, “But even through all that.. he’s charming.. and handsome.”

Padmé stays silent as she listens. Her hand falls from your shoulder and folds neatly in her lap. She’s observing you, watching your face twitch into a frown.

“How does he feel?” She quietly asks. You shrug your shoulders and release a sad laugh. Padmé is surprised.

“I’m sure he thinks I’m vile.”

Padmé disagrees, but doesn’t push it.

“Something happened, I assume?” The senator whispers, leaning toward you. You nod and she releases a sigh.

“I confronted him. He said no.”

It’s her turn to frown. When she opens her mouth to say something, you beat her to it.

“Padmé, I feel like an idiot– a failure.” Your words are hushed and laced with raw emotion, tears already beginning to collect in your eyes. You suck in a breath, your hands wringing each other. “I shouldn’t be feeling this way, and I know I shouldn’t. It’s not the Jedi way.”

“It’s what makes you human, dear (Y/N),” Padmé softly coos, her hand on your back as she shifts closer. “Love is essential to all living things.”

You stay silent, absorbing her words. You don’t notice the stray tear falling until her finger comes up to wipe it away.

You swallow, “I loved once Padmé. She died in the battlefield.”

“Your padawan?” She whispers–an educated guess. You nod solemnly.

You stifle a mock laugh, “Great Maker, I couldn’t even train her right. What makes them think I’m fit to be on the council?”

Her arms instinctively wrap around you as you weep, your barricades crashing down with the resurfaced memories of your late padawan and the reoccurring feeling of being unfit. You shake, clutching her arms.

“You are one of the best Jedi I’ve ever met, (Y/N). You’re kind, compassionate, and you listen. You don’t let your laws dictate you– you do what’s right, whether it’s the Jedi way or not.” Your cries stifle at her comforting words, sniffles dancing in the still air. “Don’t let some snide comments from a man let you think any different.”

You’re grateful, truly. But the emptiness in the pit of your stomach still lingers.

The air within the heavy room soon dissipates at the sound of clattering objects. Both of your heads raise and turn to the source.

You feel sick to your stomach.

It’s Obi-Wan, with his mouth hanging open and looking as pale as ever.

#close to the stars series #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan x you #obi wan fic

[dottiechan]

Spare bunk

Pairing: Captain Rex x reader

Word count: 2008

Warnings: TCW S7 spoilers below cut

Summary: After discovering a strange signal at the cyber station on Anaxes, Captain Rex calls an old ally for help.

Having just arrived back to Fort Anaxes from the Separatist cyber station, Rex feels drained. Drained might actually be a poor description of what he is going through – being overwhelmed by all his newfound feelings might be a better way to capture his inner sufferings. Sufferings he cannot share with anyone truly. No one who would understand, no one who would fully believe him.

Because he knows Echo is alive, damn all who think otherwise.

Tup, Dogma, Hardcase and Fives are all gone – no more than distant memories and smiling faces on holo images tucked away carefully in crates of 501st military gear and equipment. Cody is injured, moaning incoherently in his sleep while his face is scrunched up in pain despite all the kolto circulating in his bloodstream, with Jesse and Kix tending to him, watching over him.

There’s General Skywalker, of course, but one need not be Force sensitive to feel he’s reluctant, filled to the brim with disbelief and concerns to his own. And the Bad Batch may have proven themselves as allies and warriors, but none of them knew Echo. None of them would share his pain, feel his grief, and support his blind hope.

There is one another, his mind reminds Rex as he sits alone in his barracks, the white-blue shells of his armour lying discarded on the floor more carelessly than how he usually leaves them, knees hugged tightly to his chest. Another who’s survived the Citadel, another who was broken by the loss of Echo, so broken she walked straight out the Jedi Order, maybe even the Republic. Another who could potentially help, potentially understand. Also across the Galaxy, probably, but that is beside the point. Rex is aching to hear her voice, feel her compassion, feel like something, anything that isn’t just plain miserable. Anyone who says clones are engineered to not be afraid, to focus only on duty, can go straight to hell according to the Captain.

Rex moves slowly, not trusting his limbs as he unravels himself, plants his feet firmly on the ground as if he didn’t trust his own body. He pushes aside the pieces of his chestplate to fish out the utility belt underneath. There’s an encryption only he and her know, the one he constantly aches to use and yet never once dared to actually use to make a call. Now there is no hesitation in his fingers as he keys it into his holoprojector and waits for you to answer on the other end.

...

Sskoora growls, but you know him well enough to decipher the meaning behind the Trandoshan’s hisses – the one he emitted just now is the equivalent of a sigh, and you know you’ve won when the hunter brushes past you to enter the cockpit of your ship.

“Scorekeeper won’t accept droids as Jagannath points. A waste of time; a hunt not worthy of our time and our talents.”

But your old friend is already entering the coordinates of Fort Anaxes into the navicomputer and you can’t help but smile softly. He isn’t like most Trandoshans. He is a seasoned warrior, but he has honour, and the friendship you established over the last year after surviving the harsh sands of Tatooine together is one you will cherish until you die. Your attachment to Sskoora is yet another reminder why you kept failing as a Jedi. And another is waiting for you at the end of your destination.

“I owe you one, old friend.”

“You owe me a hunt,” he corrects you calmly, his red scaled face a mask of perfect tranquillity.

“Find the burliest rancor by the time we’ve rescued my friend, Sskoora.”

The Trandoshan wants to say he knows it’s about more than just Echo, more than just a friend lost and found again. He knows you want to be reunited with your mate, but he keeps his mouth shut. You’re still young in his eyes, and he will respect the rashness of youth just like the wisdom of old age.

“The burliest I will, little hunter.”

...

When a Trandoshan appears on the ramp of the ship that just landed in Fort Anaxes, all the perimeter guards are on alert, guns aimed and ready to fire. Until a Jedi appears behind, waving her arms to show their harmlessness. It takes General Skywalker to break the state of emergency, but the great hunter seems to be regarded with distrust even afterwards. Anakin is upset when he finds out why you’re here, but he cannot truly be mad. He stalks off in the night after showing you the direction in which Rex’s barracks are. You bring back too many painful memories – the Citadel, the way you got out of the Order to live your life, the same way Ahsoka did. You don’t blame him for not wanting to speak to you more. So you send Sskoora back to the ship and ask him to prepare for a fight, pacifying him enough to know his preparations for the hunt will quell any desire in him to cause trouble. And then you take a deep breath and go, trying not to reach out with the Force so eagerly to where you suspect Rex to be. The man you so innocently loved as a Jedi, and then agreed to let go for the sake of the Republic.

You’re not a Jedi anymore. And though you wish nothing more than to throw your arms around him like he used to allow you, what you truly wish is to make him happy, to console him, to trust him when no one else does. You tell your little heart beating so fast that the man asked for your help only to bring Echo back, not for any other reason, and the sour lie helps you restrain your emotions as you enter the dark building.

“I got your message. Rex?”

You can sense him – his anguish and thoughtfulness draws your focus immediately, but you cannot see him until he moves. He’s partly in his blacks, the circular emblem of the Republic visible on his chest. His kama and boots are on, however, and you’ve caught him in the act of fastening his belt around his hips.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come, if I’m honest.”

“Oh... I can wait outside, if you’d like.”

“With our shared history?” Rex snorts, shaking his head. “You’ve seen more while you were still a Jedi.”

“A fair point,” you admit, usurping a bed and perching on top of it cross-legged. “Why weren’t you sure I’d come?”

“That message encryption we cooked up was during... well, you know,” he sighs, sitting across from you as he fidgets with his bracers.

“Yeah. I know,” you breathe, voice quiet and strained.

It was during the prime of your love, before you both agreed to put an end to it for the greater good. Not long after, the mission to the Citadel came, and all your hopes of ever loving him again where shattered by the most painful decision you’ve ever had to make. Echo was a friend, a member of your weird little family, and you realised you were tired of losing them all one by one under your command, as you led them to countless battles knowing full well many of them would die. Echo’s death was the last straw, the awakening you needed to stop being a hypocrite by enslaving an army of clones and spouting wisdom about the wrongness of oppressing the weak.

You never lost hope and you never stopped helping wherever you could, wherever the Republic would still let you, but you mostly did it for the same reason you didn’t delete the encryption from your datapad all this time – Rex. It is well beyond your capabilities to say no to the man, to do anything that would harm him, anything that would go against his beliefs. Even if those beliefs in the GAR and the Senate had shaky underpinnings at best these days.

“I haven’t seen you since you left,” he says suddenly, eyes not rising to meet yours, but voice so full of suppressed yearning that it makes your head spin.

“I hope you understand why it had to happen this way, Rex...”

“You never told me. So no, I don’t really. But you’re not a Separatist, so I wouldn’t mind hearing you out.”

“I left because of you.”

“Me?” he asks, looking up with a face full of shock that makes the corners of your lips lift into a small smile that disappears quickly from your face. Rex’s eyes chase after it, wishing it lasted more than that split second.

“In a way, yes. I refused to be part of an Order that would willingly enslave you and your brothers, forcing you to fight in a war you have nothing to do with. And I don’t see a way winning would make your situation any better. You’re men, and yet you’re treated as property. So much for the Jedi values.”

“It’s the Senate, not the Jedi,” Rex argues back meekly, knowing your words to hold more truth than he’d like to admit.

“Well, now I’m not bound to either. Speaking of being bound, I have a spare bunk on the ship... Sskoora takes up two, but the top bunk is all free,” you joke, trying to lighten both your moods momentarily. It works for a little while as Rex snorts, shaking his head a little as he concentrates on slipping his gloves back on.

“Sharing sleeping quarters with a Trandoshan sounds fun, but I might just pass on that.”

“You could share mine. Captain’s quarters are quite spacious, you know. More comfortable, less... Trandoshan, I suppose.”

“Now that is a tempting offer. Think you could extend it to the end of the war?”

“Let’s just extend it until we find Echo now,” you sigh, both your moods souring considerably as you think of your friend. “You really think he’s out there?”

“It was his voice. I know it. It couldn’t have been anything else.”

You slowly stand and sit next to him, casually letting your elbows touch. When Rex doesn’t pull back, you let your shoulder lean against his, a small encouraging smile gracing your lips as you lean closer. “I believe you. We’ll find him tomorrow. I’ll help. Even if the Republic does not want me to. You just send me the coordinates, and I and Sskoora will be there on Skako Minor to back you up.”

Rex, struggling with his tears at the prospect of seeing Echo again, and moved by your devotion to him, stares at his fingers and nods. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

“I never stopped doing that, and I never will. Oh come here, you,” you sigh, drawing him in for a hug which he gratefully accepts. Despite all the heartache, the war, the constant terror the Galaxy lives in, you find peace in Rex’s arms, and he in yours. It’s both extraordinary and just so natural at the same time, your minds joined in a synchrony you’ve terribly missed. Even if he cannot feel it through the Force, there’s a bond that intertwines your fates so much that there is no escaping one another.

“There was a time I would have scolded you for even suggesting something like that, you know. About the spare bunk thing. But now all I’m saying – no, all I’m asking – is that you hold onto that question until we find Echo and win this war. And then I’ll say yes, if you still want me. Stars know I’m more than ready for that.”

You nod against his shoulder, letting your heart rejoice at the notion that the man you used to love, the man you still do, has grown so much in your absence. Maybe your separation was not for good, but only a temporary setback, a lesson for you to learn that there is no life without one another.

“I’ll be waiting patiently until then. Like I have been all this time.”

#dottiechan writes #tcw s7 spoilers #captain rex x reader #star wars the clone wars #captain rex #clone wars fanfic #my boy deserves better #all the soft love he can get

[myarmsaretoolong]

Where do You Think You’re Going?

@whumptober2020​ Prompt #5: Where do You Think You’re Going? - On the Run | Rescue

Word Count: 1933

Synopsis: Peter’s been running ever since Beck revealed his identity. Everything is finally catching up to him.

Read Under the Cut | Read on AO3

Peter had been running for months. Running from everyone in the city who turned on him, running from Tony and May - Peter hadn’t seen them since that day, in truth, he was afraid to, afraid they’d believe Beck’s lies and turn him over to Ross. What was he running towards? Well, he hadn’t figured that out yet.

Ross sent his goons after Peter on a weekly basis; the one thing he hadn’t run away from was New York. It was all he knew, and Ross used that against him by sending out search parties to bring him in, and no doubt ship him off to the Raft for a life sentence. But Peter was still Spider-Man, outrunning a few ground-based soldiers was no task for him.

He’d holed up in an abandoned factory on the edge of the city, only leaving when he had to find food and moving every few weeks so no one would get suspicious and go snooping around. Winter started to drag in, each night leaving Peter just a little colder than the one before - not ideal for someone who couldn’t thermoregulate - so he was once again forced from the safety of his shelter in search of blankets or thicker clothes. Anything to stave off the chill wind.

Peter wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t wander through the streets in the light of day, no. He waited until nightfall, wearing his Stealth Suit - apart from the mask which, as far as he knew, was still in that Netherlands holding cell, not that it was necessary anymore - and swung across rooftops, or darted between darkened alleyways.

Now, he wasn’t exactly sure where to find blankets. And he wasn’t prepared to steal, no matter how bad things got. So he crouched behind a dumpster in an alley, thinking through his options. A tingle ran up his spine, making his hairs stand on end. Ross’ goons.

Peter shot to his feet and turned to face the end of the alley. Five armed goons blocked the exit, slowly closing in. Now for the fun part - the only fun part of Peter’s miserable life. “Hey,” Peter waved with a wide smile. “Nice to catch you again. Or, sorry, not catch, you’ve never quite managed that.”

“It’s different this time, Spider,” one of them growled, still slowly stalking closer. They were dressed head to toe in black, armed to the teeth with whatever Ross’ latest attempt at weaponry was. Peter could practically feel waves of anger rolling off of them.

He had to admit, after months of taunting, running, and taunting some more, it was starting to get a little boring. To spice things up, Peter handed out nicknames to some of the more memorable goons. Ani - the one who insisted on calling Peter ‘Spider’ - earned his nickname from his looks. One time, Peter knocked his helmet off and caught a glimpse at his face before retreating into the night, he bared a striking resemblance to Anakin Skywalker. Pre Darth Vader, though maybe that description wasn’t too far off, either. Besides, Darth Vader was a different goon. He was a loud breather. One Peter could hear him coming from two blocks away. Those two were by far the most common goons sent his way. There was probably a reason for that, a vendetta, maybe. It was always a vendetta.

“Well, they do say there’s a first time for everything. I wouldn’t bet on it, though.” Peter shot a web to the roof of the building to his left and hauled himself up in one swift move. He jumped a few rooftops away, putting a healthy distance between him and Ani, before stopping. It would take them a while to catch up, anyway, and running was no fun when he just up and disappeared at the first sign of trouble. He’d learned that pretty early on.

Now, though, a little game couldn’t hurt. It kept his skills sharp, senses tuned-in, and, well, it gave him someone to talk to. God, Peter missed talking. He missed May and Tony who put up with whatever his latest fixation was. His heart yearned for MJ and Ned, his only real friends. But then, he’d remember MJ’s face after the news broadcast. The way she looked at Peter with fear in her eyes, hands trembling by her side. He left right then, only returning to his apartment once in the dead of night to grab clean clothes and the Stealth Suit.

Peter shook the memory from his head. Leaving everyone had been the worst part, worse than everyone think he was a murderer. Fuck Beck, he ruined everything.

Hang on, what was that? Peter strained his ears and- Yep, he was right. Darth Vader himself. His breathing, mixed with heavy footfalls, made him possibly the worst goon going, bar that one guy who’d freaked out the second he saw Peter and tried to shoot him. That guy, Peter had never seen again. Thankfully.

Darth Vader and his band of goons closed in down on the opposite side of Peter’s building. It wasn’t too unusual for two groups to be chasing Peter at the same time, but it did make things a little more complicated.

“It’s over, Spider-Man,” Darth Vader called, “Come down.”

Peter plopped himself down of the ledge on the roof, feet swinging over the edge, and rested his chin in his hands. “You know what, maybe I will.”

“Really?” Darth Vader’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“No. Come on, man, that’s not happening.” Peter slipped over the edge, dropping down low before shooting another web and launching himself into the air, his feet practically touching Darth Vader’s head as he swung. He relished in the feeling of the chill night air bathing his face, blowing back his too-long curls. After all this was over, Peter wasn’t going back to wearing a mask.

Before Peter could make it far, something knocked him mid-air and sent him crashing into the side of a building. Luckily, he caught himself before he fell too far. He stuck to the wall and cast around, looking for whatever it was, but there was nothing. Peter hadn’t seen anything either. Could it just have been a large bird? A large, slightly blind and probably now concussed, bird? It seemed unlikely.

Below him, yet another group of goons amassed, all shouting up at him to give up. Three groups, now that had only happened in those first few weeks. Okay, so it definitely wasn’t a bird. Peter switched in flight mode, his one and only goal to escape the clutches of Ross. He fled, ignoring how his shoulder screamed out in pain with each swing, as fast as he could. But Ross had goons at every other street corner, forcing Peter to go the other direction.

He realised, with a jolt of horror, that they were herding him. Shepherding him. He tried to stray, to escape, but every time he got off course, another invisible thing would crash into him and force him back to the path they wanted him to take.

Beck’s drones. The thought hit him like a truck. That’s what was hitting him, the shockwaves from the drones concussive blasters. How had Ross gotten access to that? Tony must have given him access to Edith, to track Peter down.

Before Peter realised it, there were no more buildings. He’d reached the edge of the city; only a sprawling field laid before him. Not even a tree to catch himself on. Peter’s arms flailed as he tumbled towards the grass, at the last second, he managed to adjust his position and rolled, springing back to his feet and- Ouch, shit. He’d forgotten just how much those shockwaves hurt.

He stumbled along, one leg basically out of action from his run-in with the building earlier. He didn’t have an aim, there was nowhere to go, only the useless hope that Ross’ goons would just… give up. Just turn around and go home.

Home. Peter longed for home. Not his shitty old factory with the broken windows that let rain in and disgusting fish smell that hung around like a bad - well, I think you can see where I’m going with this. So no, not the factory, his actual home. His and May’s apartment that felt too cramped when he wanted to be alone, yet too empty when he was. With the curtains that didn’t quite fit the sitting room window because Peter measured it in a hurry and that one spot on the wall where the wallpaper refused to lay flat. The familiarity, the comfort.

Instead, he was out here, limping across a field, and hoping. That hope, however, shattered when he looked ahead. More goons, on all sides, closing in. Peter considered fighting, but they were all armed with those concussive blasters. No, he’d save his strength for the opportune moment.

Ross’ men surrounded him, Peter span in a lazy circle just in case a gap made itself evident. Of course, one didn’t. Ani stepped forward, grinning maliciously. “Told you today was different, Spider.”

“I suppose there really is a first time for everything.”

Ani opened his mouth to speak again when a rumble echoed out across the field. Everyone’s heads snapped in the direction from which it came, Peter’s too. What he saw… well, he wasn’t sure if he felt relief or dread. Maybe both, yeah. Both.

Tony landed beside Peter in the centre of the group and held out a gauntlet towards Ani; words weren’t needed to make his threat clear. “Hi, Spider-Man,” he said, “I have a quick question for you.” Tony looped his hands under Peter’s arm and shot up into the sky.

“Uh,” Peter looked down at the slowly shrinking circle of goons. “Go ahead?”

“What, and I cannot stress this enough, the actual fuck.”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “I can see how you’d come to that question.”

“We’ve been looking for you for months, kid. We all have. Had to let Ross think he’d hacked Edith and track the drones.”

“So, you didn’t help him? You’re not gonna hand me over?”

Tony scoffed, at a momentary loss for words. “Does it look like I’m giving you to Ross?”

“I have to admit, this isn’t what I expected.”

“Yeah, no shit. Why did you run? Why didn’t you come to May, to me.”

“I, uh.” Peter squeezed shut his eyes and screwed his face into a ball. “I saw the way MJ reacted, and I guessed if that’s what she thought of me… then you’d all think the same.”

“Pete, she was in shock. Someone just told the world her boyfriend was a mass murderer and a psychopath. From what she told me you didn’t give her even a second to speak before running off and never being heard from again.”

Peter’s eyes shot open. “She’s not my girlfriend, Mister Stark.”

“Yeah, cause that was the important take away. Listen up, I’m taking you back to the compound where firstly: you’re going to take a shower, I can smell you through the suit, second, you’re going to talk to MJ, and Ned, and May. Then we’re going to put all of this straight.”

Peter hesitated. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad, but more importantly, I’m just glad to have you back.”

A smile danced across Peter’s mouth. Finally, he had something to run towards. And he was going home.

#whumptober2020 #no.5 #where do you think you're going #on the run #rescue #marvel #irondad #fanfic #TDA whumptober

[brooklynislandgirl]

Volentine's Wishes

Keni,

I remembered what you said last year, about the small rodent-giving practices. It took some time to gather both information and the rodents, but I did it. Apparently, it is cruel to keep just one of them, which makes sense. This is probably why they are a symbol of love! It is very important that they stay together once in love.

So, I procured two of them. However, two has turned into seven in the time it took me to return with them. They should all be very friendly, at least, I’ve been petting them daily as I was advised. By the time the five babies were born, both parents stopped biting me during these pettings, so it must have worked. They are very friendly now!

I hope they will bring you much happiness and love, as you do me,

-A

~*~  ~*~  ~*~

It wasn’t until she’d reached her quarters that Melakeni Ivers allowed her composure to come apart. She leans back against the door almost the moment before it seals itself into place and takes a deep and shuddering breath, letting the ache flow through every fibre of her body. Her eyes squeeze shut and she rolls the back of her head against the solidness behind her. It is a grief that she’s held onto tightly, until now, where she can set it free. He had been so close. And she hadn’t so much of a glimpse of him before he was gone again.

She is used to having an Anakin-shaped hole living inside of her. She is used to traversing through her day offering comfort and healing to those who are sick and hurt without a second thought, be they Jedi or civilian. Consulting with other healers, the medical droids, the Masters who are terribly good at exhibiting external compassion when very little stirs them within. She is used to running her fingers through the soil of the medicinal herbs, feeling their life thrive in the vibrancy of their leaves, the aroma their oils leave behind that in some ways faintly remind her of a home she has not seen in too many years.  These kinds of days drift by with an ease that blurs and blends them into the back of her mind into a quiet sort of white-noise memory. Those days Anakin’s Presence is simply a close and often soothing companion, the thing that gives her softest smiles their brightness. That keeps the glow of her eyes alive and glimmering even when she is wilting from exhaustion.  There are days when she is accompanying her Master as either a tool or a prop or an extra set of senses, hands and so on. She has never been able to explain once she overcame her fear of the man why it is that he appeals to her so, beyond what is normal through the bonds Jedi and their apprentices. She cannot explain because she doesn’t know what it is, or why it still remains as strong as it does. When she is with him, there is very little time for introspection, and Anakin’s Presence is a buffer against the too much; too much pain, too much heat and awareness and agony. He is the softness that keeps her focused, keeps her thriving.

But ones like today? The ghost of him cannot fill the hole left behind. The abject yearning that claws its way through her until everything feels like it is in tatters and the only remedy is to find herself with arms wrapped around his waist. Breathing him in and assuring herself that he is alive and as whole as he can be, and that harm’s way has not found a way to sink its teeth into him. The want of his lips on her neck as she presses her face into his hair or his chest. There need be nothing wanton about any of it, just the language they speak of and to each other in their own way, that connection and completion they feel with no one else but each other.

When the quiet little sob of grief is finally swallowed down she opens her eyes and squares her shoulders. Straightens her robes and smooths her hair back into place. Reaching out with the Force, she trips the switch of the small lights of her chamber, and feels everything settle around her. Feels she is being... stared at.

The room is not so large that she cannot immediately find what is amiss, not so filled with all the possessions that they are not, by rite and tradition, allowed to have. The pillows have eked by as necessary bedding for frail limbs. The chest to keep her robes and secret things likewise, traded and bartered and smuggled for through illegal channels. The Council does not know that at least three of the grandest cities belong to her city and that she has made use of them in her private hours.

She cannot help but smile to herself. One of these days, she will bring Anakin. A moment later, green like forests, she shakes her head to diminish the daydream that springs up from that particular thought, and she makes her silent barefooted way to where the little enclosure is draped with one of her spare robes. It is the note that finds itself in her hand first. There is no residual warmth on the flimsi of his touch but she can imagine the sweeping strokes of his stylus. She runs a fingertip over the letters and feels the bright bloom of his excitement conveyed within them, as well as the near painful preciseness used to make every letter correct, the verbal equivalent of his wording and cadence. There is a pulse that rushes through her as her nastic responses quicken. She lifts the note to her lips after the seventh read-through. A dozen kisses saved for later.

Each time her giggles come a little louder until they fill the small room with joy. She can imagine what his hand will look like, the nicks and scars from having taken repeated torment to befriend their new little family. She will need to make a salve for it. For now though, she can feel herself humming within on an oscillating frequency normally reserved for more intense moments of Inevitable Doom. Her hands actually shake a little as she reaches out to pull aside her robe. And there within their containment, one peeking out of the doorway of what looks like some clay-moulded bark, is a tiny rodent. All twitchy nosed and sleek mottled fur and those restive dark eyes that had spied her even from across the darkened room. A few investigative sniffs proves her not to be Anakin and there is some hesitation as its little fight-or-flight instinct is engaged, though when she sets the lid aside and drapes her knuckles against the gravel, it eventually comes to see what she is. 

And this is inherently the danger of herbivores, because he does try to make a snack of one of her fingers. Right then. She rises and gathers bits of clover and mint and other greens from the neat little plants kept along shelves of her walls. Ones that she mists morning and night and whispers her truths to, the very ones that Anakin always seems to enjoy visiting, one of the things he likes about her chamber, that brings him a kind of only-slightly-guilty happiness. The little vole makes quick work of most of the meal, then drags away some for his mate, or so she presumes. She will have to research their care and feeding, though it seems that Anakin has, in fact, provided them a lovely little home to the best of his ability. She goes to sit at her desk and pulls out her datapad.

M-D-A The specimens that you have delivered to me are exactly perfect for the research project. They seem satisfied with their current conditions and of course I will keep them under the strictest observation. You have my absolute gratitude for being able to assist me, and you find me in your debt. I would be most glad to share the results of these observations with you upon your return to Galactic City, where I may properly thank you for going out of your way for me, my oldest friend.

I hope your latest mission sees you in good spirits and that the Force keeps you safe. I very much love hearing of your adventures off-world and the holo-net can hardly make up for the personal details your telling of them brings.

I am unaware of having to travel in the near future, so if you should have any need of me in the meantime, I of course will gladly look forward to your messages. Until then, know I wish you health and good cheer. May the Force be with you, always. With deepest respect and admiration, Melakeni

It seems cold and brittle and distant, like starlight on a moonless night. It feels like there is so much left unspoken because that is how it must be, in coded messages and aching spirit.  Anakin understands and she would never trade any of this save for another life where they might be free of constraints put upon them by the Order. Though she does wonder if that would make him happy or if what is now frustration would become something dull and listless, the bound-up denial of his natural compassion and desire to help those that need him most. It is a thing to consider, because as far as she is aware, they must be together as well, or suffer the same kind of separation sickness as the two little rodents tending each other and what she assumes are their five adorable children.

And what does she hope that he sees?

That they are loved already, mostly sight-unseen and bite-unfelt. That through their tiniest little glimmers of presence she feels even more connected to Anakin in his absence. That her message carries all of her love and hopes for him. That he has but to think of her and she will reach out to him across time and space and anything else that dare come between.

With or without the Time of Voles, with or without his physical proximity, there is no one that can occupy the shape of him inside of her.

#mynameisanakin #Images of Broken Light|Anakin Skywalker #Pools of Sorrow-Waves of Joy|Anikeni #Across the Universe|Star Wars AU #Warfront|The Clone Wars #Scintillating Light|Coruscant #//thank you Shady! Those are really cute and I can just. #//So sweet #rodent tw #mouse tw #Vole-n-time 2021 #submission

[threadsketchier]

Hi Everyone I’m Fuckin’ Stressed So Here’s a Fic

My mind’s been in a pretty dark place the past couple of days because of some really unexpected and unwelcome personal shit, so I just banged this out and I’m releasing it into the wild for whoever to enjoy or maybe even add to/keep going, because I wouldn’t know where else to go with it past this point and I just keysmashed this much out purely for catharsis.  Or not.  It can just be this.

Credit to MythicMittens for the original premise and credit to @fialleril for Amatakka and Tatooine slave culture in general.  (Fia, if you hate time-travel, I apologize profusely in advance and you’re free to ignore, but if this isn’t a squick, consider this an encouragement fic in return for all your indulgent snippets?)  And I had to do this scene twice from both POVs because I just...couldn’t not.

(Also: Cliegg is not in this for Reasons.  *handwave*)

Yes, I stalker-trawled your #amatakka tag and took literal notes.  I’m pretty sure I used at least one word/phrase wrong, but I couldn’t find a mention for it, so I improvised.

“Father.”

Their time has run out; his own yearning can’t keep him here, but he can’t bear to let go yet.

“I won’t leave you,” Luke pleads, his voice breaking, leaning forward as his father sags back against the boarding ramp.  But Anakin is gone, his last free breath rattling from his lips.  Bereft, tears flooding his vision, Luke lets his prosthetic hand caress the armor shielding his father’s heart and bows his head under the weight of his grief.

Thunder cracks behind him, and Luke flinches and looks back to see a white-hot wall of flame rushing toward them, a searing pressure wave knocking him flat against his father’s body.  On instinct he clutches Anakin tightly – there is nothing else left to do in this last split second of life before the Death Star’s destruction takes him.

Takes him to death, to the Force, to –

Cold, hard-packed sand greets him, grinding into his cheek, and Luke splutters grains from his mouth.  His eyes fly open to see a vivid desert pre-dawn, deep violet and crimson still blanketing the sky with only the hint of a sun’s golden glow kissing the horizon, and his father is nowhere in sight.  His ears are still ringing from the explosion and its heat tingles across his skin, but…he isn’t dead.  He can’t be.  This feels too tangible, too anchored by the sense of his own body in all its discomfort and disorientation.  The dry air is sharply clean, scoured of any distinct life, but he recognizes it nonetheless as he lies there breathing raggedly.

Perhaps death has a strange sense of humor, sending him back to this place where it all began.  This is home, it insists, whether he wants to regard it as such or not.

Groaning, Luke struggles to sit up, then freezes halfway when he hears the soft crunch of footsteps approaching.  He whips his head around to glance behind him – regretting it immediately – and sees a woman hastening toward him, her figure shrouded in a shawl and poncho over layered skirts worn against the dawn’s chill, all aged homespun.  She’d left a basket on the ground near a vaporator about a dozen meters away; she must have been out gathering the mushrooms before the day’s heat shrivels them.

He has to fight a dual wave of dizziness and nausea from his movement, and his eyes are shut when her hands grip his shoulders.  When he forces them open again, he’s staring up into a kindly and gracefully weathered face with warm brown eyes, a few dark strands of hair escaping from the shawl wrapped over her head.

“Traveler, I didn’t hear you make a sound before I spotted you,” she remarks with gentle wryness, her expression concerned and bemused.  “Are you hurt?”

“I’m…”  His voice sounds irrational to his own ears, as if it should no longer exist.  I’m a dead man, he thinks.  But Ben has continued to speak to him, hasn’t he?

She doesn’t even wait for his answer, reaching into the folds of her skirts to pluck out a canteen and offer it to him.  Basic aid and hospitality on Tatooine – if anyone passes by or seems remotely in need, water is always offered and almost always needed, and he’s certainly not going to refuse.  He takes several long draughts to slake his thirst, but doesn’t drain it; unless one is dying, it would be callous to do so.  Before he can hand the canteen back, though, she unwinds the shawl from her head and shoulders and wraps it around him.

He does hurt – he’s exhausted and shaky and fiercely sore from both the Emperor’s attack and the strenuous effort of half-carrying his father through the Death Star’s corridors.  But that’s not important right now.  “I don’t know why I’m here,” Luke blurts out quietly.

The woman scrutinizes him intensely, but he has no urge to shrink under her gaze; on the contrary, he feels a great sense of safety in her presence, and familiarity, despite never having seen her before.  “Do you remember your name?” she asks with a softly cautious and nurturing solemnity.

Something makes him hesitate for a moment – perhaps the sheer inexplicability of this situation – but he can’t find a reason to distrust her within himself.  “Luke.”

A spark alights in her eyes, and they flicker over him as if appraising him anew, and she smiles, the joy in her countenance as bright as the sunsrise.  “Hello, Lukka.”

He startles slightly.  She knows the tongue.  Suddenly he realizes what she must have been thinking about him, and how that view shifted with the addition of his name.  “Te nimku masa?” he asks in return.  The desire to know her name has become an urgent need he can’t fathom.

“Ek masa nu Shmi Ekkreth ku.”

His heart starts to pound.  Shmi Skywalker.  His father’s mother.  Nothing more than a missing grave marker and fond but wistful memories from his aunt and uncle, now somehow kneeling in the sand next to him, very much alive.  These vaporators must be the edge of his family homestead.  He is home, far before he was ever around to call it such.

Whether this is a dream or a vision born from the Force in the last moments of his living mind, stretched beyond the temporal limits of his body, or something far more profound – has he actually been sent to the past? – he can’t stop himself from breathing reverently, “Grandmother,” and leaning forward to throw his arms around her.

Even though he is a stranger, her arms encircle him and hold him firmly, accepting him without condition, and Luke finds himself unable to hold back the tears that his father’s death have already loosened.  He cries into her shoulder, deep and taut sobs that make his chest ache and leave him gasping.  Her hand strokes the back of his head and she rocks him gently as she lets him weep, and Luke knows now why he felt as though he belonged with her, much as he had with Leia.

Once the tide of his emotions washes back out and he sits limp in her grasp, they part slightly and he can see her own eyes glistening. Slowly she rises while still supporting him, gripping his hand, and says, “Come, Lukka.  Let me take you home.  We’ll speak more there, if you wish.”

So Luke pushes to his feet and lets her lead him back to the farm not yet touched by fire and loss.

They’re dressed in the color of night.  The color of freedom.

How odd, Shmi thinks, for a Jedi.  Her eyes catch the dull gleam of dawn’s light off the silver cylinder hooked to their belt, and she remembers when a Jedi first and last passed through her life, leaving it untouched save for the freeing of her son.  But she puts away the fleeting bitter thought; whoever this person is, they’re in some sort of need – one doesn’t wind up sprawled face-down on the cold night sands on the outskirts of a moisture farm for idle pleasure.  Perhaps they’ve been fleeing through the darkness seeking shelter, although it’s strange that she never heard them approach in the utter silence, as if they simply appeared out of thin air.

When they stir, trying to sit up with a drunken lurch, her breath seizes a little at the sight of their features.  Even in the dim early morning light she can see a tousle of dark blond hair, a dimpled chin, and a flash of blue eyes before they snap shut, and her heart quickens as she tries to reconcile the precious memories of her son’s face.  Could this be her Ani?  Enough time has passed for them to be grown. Have they finally come back to her, and were they accosted along the way?

But when she kneels by them and holds them steady, that sense deep within her that she has never been able to name but knows as surely as her own soul can tell that this isn’t Ani.  Something about them still rings true, though, like a distant echo of her voice off the canyons.  They’re young, but with a face that’s already aged well beyond their years.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” they say, looking terribly lost.  It’s possible they’re not even a Jedi, but rather employed a ruse.  Playing the trickster.  But calamity befell and someone else may have dumped them at the perimeter of the farm, hoping another would take responsibility for them while they washed their hands of the matter and took off.  Between slavers and pirates, anything could have happened.

Terror can be as effective at damaging memory as a brain injury.  “Do you remember your name?”  Do you remember who you are, child?

“Luke.”

It could be a coincidence.  It could be only an offworlder’s name, and the black garb meaningless.  But she’s not inclined to believe in pure chance.  A free one, clad in the cover and relief of night.  Shmi lets a smile split her face and greets them.  “Hello, Lukka.”

Their eyes flare with recognition.  She was right – Amavikka, a child of the Mother, whether freeborn or escaped.  When they call her Grandmother, their fervent whisper sets off a hum in her bones that runs deeper than any connection she might have with them through the honorific – she doesn’t recall anyone with this face during her time in Mos Espa, but they might have learned of her from the quarters after she was freed.  Behind every story was a person.

They seek comfort and solace in her arms, and she offers it without reservation.  They still remind her so much of Ani that it hurts, and she hopes that wherever her son is out there among the stars, that they can feel her unceasing love and faith for them.

Lukka will need a place to rest and recover, and Shmi knows that Owen and Beru will be more than glad to open their household.  Beru will probably have her tzai ready by the time they make it back.  “Come, Lukka.  Let me take you home.  We’ll speak more there, if you wish.”  She’ll understand if they won’t, but a small part of her is eager to hear their tale if they’re willing to share it.

Lukka keeps hold of her hand as they walk, and they haven’t gone ten steps before they murmur, “Ek masa nu Lukka Ekkreth ka.”

She stops in her tracks and looks aside at him, and he’s gazing back at her with a mixture of wonder and courage, and Ar-Amu’s song is singing high and clear in her blood.

#sorry i just needed to vent #by making a dream team #shmi & lukka hugging it out & kicking all the depur asses #my fics #fialleril strikes again #star wars #luke skywalker #shmi skywalker #amatakka #tatooine slave culture