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#Jedi business back to your drinks
forsaken-comic · 11 months
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A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away...
<The Plot of Forsaken is under heavy revisions>
Forsaken: A Star Wars Fan Story is the tale of two star crossed Jedi whose passions drive them apart and send them crashing back into each other over and over again. Filled with compelling angst, phone gripping action, and characters you will be raving about, Forsaken will be well worth the wait it takes for its dysfunctional artist to release the damn thing.
About the Artist Ashley Rowan (she/him) is an artist and creative writer who has always had a passion for character focused storytelling. She has the Sith Code memorized and thinks Andor is the best tv show of all time, maybe even the best story ever. While avoiding work she should be doing on Forsaken, he plays lots of D&D and draws art for his art blog @ashleyrowan
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therandomando · 1 year
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Going circles in my head trying to figure out the Jedi order... How is a master rank achieved? Just an appointment to the council? What about Qui Gonn or Dooku then?
Legit can't figure it out when it hits me. My brother in the wills, you have the Jedi textbook. Read it up!
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little-miss-vader · 11 months
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Gentle Hands
Pairing: Anakin x Jedi!Reader
Summary: Anakin doesn’t like being touched. Everybody knows they shouldn’t touch him unless it’s absolutely necessary. Until…
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Word count: 6.5K
Trigger warnings: 18+ smut and drinking
A/N: Slow burn baby! It’s Clone Wars era Anakin cuz I’ve been watching Clone Wars a lot but just imagine early ROTS Anakin bc Hayden. Okay? Okay. Also we are so back. Ps, Zeltron spiced wine is an aphrodisiac. Just fyi. No relation to this piece of writing, of course.
It was a regular day. There was a soft buzz of commotion in the Jedi Temple. Nothing loud enough to annoy you but if it was gone you’d notice. Footsteps, voices speaking, the sounds of droids doing their business. It’s what normally woke you up everyday, the relative silence of the night would begin to turn into the early morning sounds of Jedi business. In all honesty, it made you feel excited to wake up. To see what new mission would be brewing, to hear the stories of the most recent expedition. The war had its effect on you and your Master but it never broke your spirit. You were proud to be who you were, to do what you do. You were even prouder to have Master Plo Koon as your teacher. He was the kindest one, at least to your knowledge. The two girls you often hung out with on your off time told you stories of how their Masters were very strict and had little to no empathy once the war had started. You deemed yourself lucky and even more so, grateful.
Your eyes watched the small skylight that was fixed to your ceiling. Being one of the older younglings, and now a Padawan, you got to move to your own living quarters in the main complex of the temple. They all had skylights and balconies whereas the younglings were bunked in big rooms in the lower levels of the temple so they would be harder to get to incase of an ambush.
You watched the thin clouds move across the bright blue sky quickly, telling you the weather was warm with a breeze. Your legs slid off the bed, your body following suit to bring you to a sitting position. The cold marble floor of your apartment was hidden by a single carpet right by your bed and your feet revelled in the feeling of the soft fibres keeping them warm.
The clock read 7:45 and you sighed. You only had 15 minutes to be up and outside before breakfast was served and with a sigh you walked on tiptoe across the cold floor into your bathroom.
With a lazy flare you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Your hair was still damp from the shower you had taken late last night instead of sleeping. You brushed out the damp curls and they turned into soft waves. You decided that was good enough before changing and heading out the door. The second you opened the door you were greeted by your Master.
“Glad to see you awake.” Plo Koon spoke with his arms crossed over his chest. You gave him a half smile as you reached out a joking fist to punch his arm lightly.
“You stalking me now?” You said and the sound of your own voice speaking for the first time today shocked you. It sounded like you just woke up for sure. A small laugh was heard coming from your Master and it brought a smile to your face. “What’s the plan for today, Master?” You asked in hopes to sway him from thinking you’d slept in.
He gave you a shrug. “Only thing I’m planning is breakfast. We’ve been on the go for weeks. You and I both deserve a small break.” He said as he peered into the space behind you. It was a mess. Your hand pulled the door closed with a nervous laugh.
“I could eat.” You replied with a shrug and he turned on his heels and you followed him to the dining hall. The two of you walked until your eyes landed on a taller figure. His dark clothes immediately made him stand out as he spoke to one of the Clones, you believed his name was Rex. With a shaky breath you watched as Plo Koon walked over to him. They spoke about something and you tried to unglue your feet from where he had left you standing. When you finally began to move toward them, Anakin glanced at you. Your breath caught itself in your throat and before you could take another step he nodded to Plo Koon and walked away.
“Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.” Your Master said simply as he walked past you and it took every ounce of will in your body to move and follow him. As you walked you could have sworn you felt a pair of eyes on you and you whipped your head around to see Anakin talking to somebody you didn’t know, his back was turned to you and his hands were folded behind his back. You rolled your eyes, kicking yourself for being stupid enough to think he’d ever look in your general direction.
It wasn’t as if you two had never spoken. You were the same age, both partaking in the same level of Jedi training under equally fantastic Jedi Masters. Although, your interactions had never exceeded anything beyond polite and courteous conversation due to being in the same room as each other.
As the years went on, he became a bit taller, his hair grew and he chopped off his Padawan braid, his shoulders got broader, and your heart started beating a little faster every time he was around. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t some strange feeling that came out of nowhere. It was very prominent in your head at all times, your growing attraction to the boy. It was almost more aggravating to deal with when you knew it was happening. You’d fight yourself every day on repressing the thoughts that would populate in your minds eye at the sight of him. You’d heard multiple stories of his aversion to people. He didn’t like being touched, he barely even liked talking to strangers. You’d seen somebody try to give him a side hug once after he and Obi-Wan had successfully completed an assignment and the look on his face mixed with his blunt words of rejection made you fear ever coming close enough to touch him. The idea of touching him was reserved for your fantasies now.
The day had gone achingly slow and it felt as though your brain was far away from your body. Your master allowed you to go eat breakfast with your two friends and the three of you chatted and caught up, though you didn’t retain much of what they said. You barely even spoke, assuming a listening role, too busy thinking about the eyes you had sworn you felt on you earlier.
Once you had finished eating you returned to your Master who was sat amongst other amicable Jedi. The two of you walked through the gardens while Plo Koon gave you advice and some of literature to read up on. You nodded your head and made a mental note to visit the archives and pick up whatever he was talking about. He dismissed you, having no further work to give you. It had been three days since your last mission had ended and you thanked your lucky stars you hadn’t gotten a new assignment as you made your way across the long and beautifully decorated hallways of the Jedi Temple. Your eyes scanned the art that hung between every window. You heard quick footsteps behind you and your body turned in an instant, your relief was obvious when you saw the face of your friend who had clearly been wandering around looking for something to do.
“Where are you off to?” She asked as she slowed her pace, nearing you. You met her halfway.
“Just the archives. Master Plo Koon gave me some stuff to check out.” You spoke and she rolled her eyes.
“Just once I wanna hear you say you’re doing something normal.” She laughed and now it was your turn to roll your eyes. The two of you fell into step together as you walked toward the room full of all the information a Jedi could possibly need.
“Jedi’s don’t live a very normal life.” You responded and she simply shrugged her shoulders. She was a bit erratic and always had been an unconventional person. It had always been clear she longed for a normal life but she wasn’t from a good family nor a good place, she knew she was better off here.
“Well you’re not a Jedi yet.” She nudged you gently with a small smile on her face. You turned your body to face her as you walked in front of her with a look of mocked shock on your face. Turning the corner, you began to say something snarky in response but her hand reached out to you and her eyes went wide.
“Y/N watch ou-“ She pursed her lips, cutting herself off when you felt a light thud against your back. You felt hands grip your shoulders gently and you whipped around to see who you had so carelessly walked into. You were faced with a chest at first but with a small upward tilt of your head you saw the curly hair and blue eyes you spent most days thinking about staring directly at you.
Of course it would be him.
Your embarrassment was painted over every aspect of you. Your shoulders slumped and your cheeks reddened. Until you realized that there was no glare, no scowl. He looked down at you with what seemed like a hint of a smile. Your heart almost leaped out of your chest as you backed away from his touch. His hands seemed to attempt to linger on your shoulders before dropping to his sides. With a deep breath you began to apologize and he looked between you and your friend.
“Didn’t see you there, my fault.” He said gently as he slipped by the two of you. “Have a nice evening.” He finished. You looked back at your friend and you couldn’t imagine your facial features were much different from hers. With wide eyes and slightly parted lips you both shook your heads as he walked away.
“Sorry!” You finally blurted out behind him, causing your eyes to squeeze shut. You wished you could curl up inside yourself and die when all you heard in response was his distant chuckle. The two of you watched as he entered a room and closed the door behind him and the second he was gone, your friend began to cackle.
“Sorry.” She mimicked as you stared at her. “Man. I was expecting him to tell you right off.” She continued to speak through her laughs. You didn’t say anything. You shoulders were burning where his hands had been and your stomach felt like it had been tied into knots. Another deep breath eased you into being able to move again.
“He’s so weird.” You said, brushing it off in an attempt to neutralize her. It worked and you desperately tried to change the subject by asking her about herself. The two of you walked and she rambled on about some mission she had just come back from until you got to the archives. When you were done downloading everything onto a small device, you turned to her. “I have to go back to Plo Koon. I forgot to ask him something. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You lied, desperately trying to be alone. She nodded and said something about seeing you tomorrow, you weren’t listening, before leaving you to go find something else to do.
You rushed to your apartment in the Temple, finally letting out a deep sigh when you heard the door of your safe space close behind you. You tossed the small device that held all the information you needed on the small table in the middle of the apartment before sitting on the couch beside it. You felt as though there wasn’t enough air in the apartment for you to breathe in, which made no sense, but you opened your balcony door anyways.
The soft sounds of the fountain in the garden and the bustling of people below you didn’t seem to clear your head. You sighed, feeling as if you might finally be going insane. The thoughts in your head were clambering over one another in order to be heard as you paced the main room. You ran a hand through your hair and tightened your fist at your scalp with another weary sigh. Without a second thought you began to drop all your clothing off your body, leaving them behind you like a small trail to the bathroom. You adjusted the shower to be on the coldest setting and stared at the water, thinking of how water never looked cold or hot; it always just looked like water. Before you let yourself think your way out of it, you stepped in and a loud yelp escaped your mouth.
“Shit!” You yelled as the freezing water unrelentingly pelted against your skin. You cursed under your breath as if you were mad at the water for not realizing you were uncomfortable but you pressed your eyes shut and took heavy, pursed lipped breaths. When you began to feel as if you couldn’t take it anymore, your hand reached out to the faucet and you turned it to a higher heat setting. The sudden heat hitting your body made you feel like you could drop to the ground so you did. You let yourself sit on the floor of the shower and warm up. Your breathing became normal and your heart rate slowed. The thoughts got quieter but they were still there. The feeling of the hot water on your shoulders mimicked a feeling you’d felt earlier and that’s when you stood back up and turned the water off completely.
With legs that felt like jello you dried off and pushed yourself toward your closet and found something to lay down in. You’d sleep early tonight and forget about it all in the morning, you thought. Soft linen pants and an equally soft shirt adorned your frame and you decided a drink wouldn’t kill you. You settled into a spot on your couch with crossed legs, a large glass of wine on the table, and a salty snack you’d been waiting to try in your lap. Your hand reached for the small remote next to you and you watched the screen in front of you flicker to life at the press of a button. You let whatever was on the Holo play, not bothering to find something you enjoy. You just wanted something to distract you.
Hours passed and your eyes were yet to get heavy. There was no level of relaxation that could make you go to bed. You glanced at the clock on the wall and chewed at a piece of skin that had released its hold on your lip. You lifted the glass to your lips and found it to be empty. The bottle was on the table, empty as well. You rolled your eyes and let a breath out from your closed lips causing them to flutter and make a funny noise. You felt seemingly alright for somebody who’d polished a bottle of Zeltron spiced wine, you thought. With a swift motion you stood up and wobbled like a newborn deer.
You might have slightly misread your sobriety level.
It took a few steps to steady yourself but you did it. Your hand reached for your hooded robe on the hook by the front door and you slipped on your boots. The pairing looked silly with your pyjamas and you decided to tie up your robe in a small effort to hide it.
You opened your door slowly and peered around the dimly lit hallways before stepping out completely and closing the door behind you, locking it twice to make sure you did it. Your footsteps seemed so loud no matter how quietly you tried to walk, they echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings. It wasn’t a crime to be out at night but as a Padawan your Master should always know what you’re doing, and Plo Koon was definitely in the dark on your actions.
You wandered through the hallways and noticed how vastly different they looked without the natural light pouring through the ceiling high windows. The paintings almost had an eerie look about them and the dim lighting had the opposite of a warm effect on you. You ignored your paranoia, it was just the wars sick effect on you. You began to hum to clear your thoughts, a tune you remember from your childhood. You didn’t remember much other than your life at the Temple but you held on dearly to the small bits you remembered from before.
Without you even realizing, the hallway you had wandered into seemed to have broken light fixtures and it was completely dark. You slowed your steps and reached into the Force for a brief bit of direction. You felt something in front of you and you felt your heart begin to race. You froze in place and squeezed your eyes shut when you felt it get closer. A small thump made a yelp escape your lips as hands gripped your shoulders tightly. One hand left your shoulders and your eyes widened in fear, your mouth dropped open but no sound escaped.
The loud hum of a lightsaber igniting filled the air just as quickly as the blue light that illuminated the face in front of you. Your look of horror didn’t wash away when you saw who it was.
“Y/N, what the hell are you doing sulking around in the dark?” Anakin spoke in a hushed yet aggressive tone. Your mouth opened and closed but you couldn’t get any words to fall through. He raised an eyebrow, his shoulders dropped and he looked more relaxed now that he knew you were harmless. It seemed he had the same fear as you did, walking through the dark halls. “Have you been drinking?” He asked, his hand never left your shoulder and you turned your head slowly to look at it before looking at him again with a nod.
He laughed. Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow.
“What’s so funny?” You said, your voice barely audible.
“Nothing. Just the second time today you’ve walked directly into me.” He mused.
“I wasn’t walking.” You shrugged.
“All the same.” He shrugged back, his hand dropped from your shoulder and he made his way next to you, his hand now found a spot on your lower back. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
You shook your head. “I left my room for a reason.”
“And what would that be?” His voice had never been this quiet before, it made you feel safe.
“You ask a lot of questions. Why are you sulking around in the dark?” You built up the courage to speak to him like a normal person. Your drunken mind didn’t even notice that he hadn’t once let his hand fall away from your body since you had bumped into each other.
“I was going to the gardens to think.” He answered and it shocked you, you almost thought he wouldn’t. You looked at him for a moment before shrugging again, giving your head a tilt.
“I was too.” You said with all the certainty you could muster, which wasn’t much. He smiled again, it was rare you saw him laugh or smile and in the last minute or so, you’d seen both. It made your stomach feel warm and it wasn’t just the wines fault.
“Right. Let’s go then.” He played along, guiding you down the dark hallway with his lightsaber. He disengaged it when the exit of the Temple came into your vision. The door was pushed open by him and the hand he had on the small of your back, ushered you out in front of him. You realized his level of touchiness when he rushed over after you to place his hand back on you.
Your heart felt like it was making its way up your throat and you couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Something in your stomach began to feel warm and your head felt so far from your body you thought you could faint. You didn’t want him to stop touching you so when you both got to a small spot in the garden, surrounded by bushes, you pulled him over by his arm and sat on the soft grass. He looked down at you with the ends of his lips curled and sat crossed-legged across from you. You mimicked his position and inched forward so your knees were touching his. Every single place that was touched by him went fire hot. You’d never felt like this. You weren’t sure if it was the wine or him, either way you would live like this forever if you could.
When he didn’t protest to your knees touching his, you looked at him. “Thought you didn’t like being touched.” Your words came out slightly slurred but you tried your best to hide it by articulating a little better.
“That is circumstantial, Y/N.” He responded, eyeing you. It seemed as though he was trying to read you. You felt judged but not in a bad way. You allowed him to look, even sitting up a bit straighter. Your head tilted again at his response. Your hand absent mindedly fiddled with the grass under you, twirling the blades between your fingers.
“To what?” You asked gently, feeling a quiet in your mind that you hadn’t felt since he had touched you outside the Archives. His eyes watched your hands play with the grass when he spoke.
“You.” He didn’t look at you. Was he nervous or lying? You couldn’t tell and it caused a small laugh to escape your lips. He finally looked at you, his puzzled features were desperately scanning you to figure why you would laugh at him.
“Me? You want me to touch you?” You laughed again. You wouldn’t be surprised if in a few moments you woke up in a cold sweat on your couch. Your nerves were gone, and he was here with you. He was touching you, he was looking into your eyes. It had to be a dream.
“What if I do?” He leaned back on his hands, his long torso extended in the most delicious way and you didn’t bother trying to disguise your staring. There was an intensity in the air that made it feel okay to be like this. You felt like you were heating up more and more by the second and you wondered if he felt the same. You watched his chest, it moved faster than a normal persons would, signalling that was breathing heavily.
“We did a mission together once.” He spoke again, snapping you out of your trance. You looked at him, your head shook as a reaction. That was two years ago, when you were both 20. You went on a mission with three Jedi and three Padawans including yourself, Anakin, Plo Koon, and Obi-Wan. They thought a big mission like that would do better with a larger group.
“I’m aware.” You said nonchalantly. You remembered it but you were shocked that he did too.
“You helped carry me back onto the ship. You got me water and dressed the cut I got on my face.” His hand touched the scar over his eye instinctively as he spoke. You looked away, following your arm down to where your hand was gripping the grass gently.
“It was nothing.” You shrugged.
“It was protocol,” He started, a shrug of his own mimicked yours. “But it felt so intimate. I felt like electricity had run through me every time you touched me. Every time you apologized for accidentally hurting me I felt my heartbeat in my ears.” He looked at you and you prayed he didn’t see you holding your breath. You ripped one piece of grass out of the ground and raised it to tie it into several small knots, the same knots you felt in your stomach. There was no use in pretending his words didn’t affect you the way they did.
“You can always tell me to stop if you want me to shut up.” He whispered as his hand reached to yours, taking the blade of grass from you and replacing it with his own hands.
“There’s no way you’re doing this right now.” Your drunken words came out a little louder than you wanted and you laughed as a response at your own inability to self regulate. You slipped your hands out of his and crossed them over your chest.
“What? You think you’re the only one here capable of feeling things?” He smirked, a joking tone laced in his voice. Your eyes widened and you looked at him.
“You don’t act like it. You’ve never spoken to me for more than a few minutes. You found me drunk and alone at night and suddenly you felt electricity all those months ago? Your heartbeat in your ears?” You laughed. Sober you wouldn’t dare speak to anybody like this. You were kind and curt no matter what the scenario. It felt like you had been possessed by an over-confident, aggressive, and unserious version of yourself. You didn’t mind it when you saw the look on his face. He had been joking but your serious response clearly wasn’t what he had been pining for.
“Would you rather I follow you around like a lost puppy? Or try to talk to you every chance I get? Why would I make my feelings obvious, Y/N?” He asked, his voice was still gentle and it made your arms tingle with the feeling of goosebumps raising.
“Maybe. Maybe I do. I spent years watching you, praying you’d let your eyes linger for long enough to see how highly I feel about you.” Your words probably didn’t make sense, but you felt they did. He got it, you could tell by the way his eyebrows pushed themselves apart from their furrowed position and his eyes adopted a more understanding emotion.
“Why dwell on me being an idiot and not focus on the fact that if you were anybody else you’d have been left alone for the night?” He asked and you rolled your eyes. Was he really that arrogant?
“Because you being an ‘idiot’ made me feel like a bigger idiot and a bit of a creep.” You said bluntly and he laughed.
“If I told you how I felt about you, I’d be the creep.” He chuckled and you raised your chin in curiosity.
“Do tell.” You mused, the serious air leaving almost immediately as leaned back on your own hands with a grin.
“No.” He shook his head with a small grin finding his features as well.
“Please? I’ll tell you if you tell me.” You tried to barter and even though you felt like a young, naive, school girl you enjoyed the aura of the interaction.
“Fine.” He sat up, his knees raised and he draped his arms over them and you followed, sitting in the same position. Your faces were a few feet away on account of how long his legs were but you stared at each other for a moment, stifling giddy laughs and smiles. “At first, I thought you were the most talented Jedi I’d ever seen. You’re smart too. Dedicated.” He started and you smiled.
“I know all of that, Anakin. Get to the good stuff.” You gestured your hand in the air as if saying ‘hurry up’ and he rolled his eyes.
“Patience.” He made a mockingly serious face before going on with his grand revelation. “I like that you’re confident in yourself. Everything I’ve heard about your missions was always positive, the trust your Master has in you is incredible.” He cleared his throat. He was beating around the bush and he knew it. You groaned a bit and he held his hand up. “But you’re also beautiful. I can always tell who’s laughing when I hear you. Even if I’m not looking. I know it’s you. It’s very distinct. If the suns raised every morning just to see your face and head your laugh it wouldn’t surprise me. I can always feel when you’re around, your presence alone is so loud… Warm and.. Inviting. I always think about you and whenever I catch it I beat myself right the hell up.” He shrugged.
You stared at him. That wasn’t what you expected. Not from a man with his reputation. You expected something baseline and boring. Even a bit sexual. He is a man after all but he shocked you for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.
“Why would you beat yourself up?” You asked, skillfully dodging all the soft and mushy stuff he had mentioned. He shrugged.
“Obvious reasons, Y/N.” He said simply and you nodded. “Your turn.” He smiled and you internally screamed at yourself for promising this to him. It was only fair but Maker, it was embarrassing.
“I hate to be the person who says something as easy as ‘I feel the same’…” You trailed off and he leaned forward, like he was eager to hear what you had to say. It made you feel special. “But I do. I might even feel more intensely than you.” You took a deep breath to help yourself get it over with. “I admire you more than you could know. I’ve never known anybody who’s been through so many adversaries and came over them to be as amazing as you. I think of you every day and since earlier, it’s gotten almost unbearable to deal with. I think about you during the day and I dream of you at night. I know it’s not right but I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. Every aspect of you.”
You didn’t get very far in your confession before Anakin pushed both of your legs down and pulled you toward him. You almost floated toward him and into his lap. Your eyes stared at him wildly as his hand touched the side of your cheek, stroking it gently. “Anakin..” You started and he shook his head.
“Please let me try this. It’s all I can ever think about.” He whispered and you didn’t object. His nose touched yours and your eyes fluttered shut. His breath against your lips made some kind of switch inside of you flip and you pushed your lips against his as your hands grabbed at the fabric on his back before moving up to the nape of his hair. He moaned against you and you let out a heavy breath between your lips. The sound alone made you push him down on his back and you clambered over him.
He held you tightly to his body and rolled the two of you over so he would be over you. Through heavy handed kisses he whispered something but you couldn’t make it out.
“Hm?” You asked, pulling away. He stared at you with an intensity you’d never seen before and it made your blood feel like lava in your veins. You anticipated his response.
“Keep this up and I’m going to have to take some extreme measures.” His voice was gravelly and his breath hit your face with every syllable. You felt your breathing become erratic and sharp. You stared up at him and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes almost closed at the feeling. You pulled him back toward you, engaging him in another longing kiss. You moaned when his tongue slipped between your lips. Your hips moved up toward his instinctually and he pushed them back down with a sound that almost sounded like a growl.
“Don’t.” He whispered.
“Why not?” You responded. The wine had taken its natural affect on you and at this point, having him was all you wanted.
“I want it to be special.” He said as he pulled away from you. He had a level of restraint that he was struggling to maintain and you could feel it.
“You’ll have plenty of do-overs.” You mumbled before pulling him back to you and he gave in. He untied your robe and looked down at your pyjamas that were hiding underneath and a small chuckle escaped him before he began to pull away the clothing on your body. He left your panties on before he pulled his own shirt off. His pants stayed on and you didn’t care. You could stare at his body forever, so you stared with wide and lustful eyes. It was far better than you could ever have imagined and it made you squeeze your legs together.
His hand traced down from your cheek to your chin, across your collarbone and down the side of your body. He hit a spot where you were a bit sensitive and you jerked at the ticklish feeling. He smiled, tracing his finger up and down a few times to see your reaction. You whined in response and he didn’t waste anytime in giving you what you wanted.
His hand felt ginormous between your legs and you sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers danced over your panties. He felt how wet you were and a smirk washed over his face. “I’m not even gonna say it.” He laughed gently as he increased the pressure of his movements against you.
“Say what?” You said, your words mixed into the sound of a moan.
“How wet you are and how much I like it.” He leaned down and began to pepper kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he slipped your underwear to one side and ran his fingers through your folds. Your back arched and you spread your legs a bit more for him and he smiled against your skin. “Good girl.” He whispered, causing a small whimper to leave you.
Anakin’s fingers worked your throbbing heat gently, starting with one pumping in and out of you at an alarmingly slow pace. You wriggled under him and he used his free hand to hold you still. “Patience.” He repeated his words from earlier. You tried to keep still while he added a second finger and increased his pace, curling them ever so gently. Moans fell from your lips and you tried your best to silence them. You focused on staring up at the stars above you, not even caring that the two of you were doing this outdoors, hidden between a few bushes.
After what seemed like a decade, he pulled his fingers out of you and pressed them against your clit. Your own excitement was all he needed for lubricant. He rubbed it slowly while sucking gently at your neck. “Anakin.” You moaned and he hummed as a response. “Please don’t stop.” You said desperately.
“I like it when you beg.” He whispered as he moved his fingers in quick circular motions against your clit. You felt your entire body jerk up toward him at the new feeling. You’d done this yourself multiple times and it had never felt as good as it did right now. Your eyes squeezed shut as your felt yourself get closer and closer to euphoria. Your hands gripped at his hair, pulling and tugging it, causing a moan to leave his mouth and you felt the feeling come barreling at you like a freight train. You felt your body begin to vibrate and all it took was a few words from him to tip you over the edge. “Cum for me.” He whispered and a yelp left your mouth as you released every bit of tension in your body. You grinded against his fingers and he slowed his movements. You rode it out until you were able to open your eyes. When you did, you saw him staring down at you and your cheeks flushed.
“I’m sorry..” You started and he shook his head.
“Please don’t be. I’ve thought about doing that for months.” He smiled and you returned the expression. Your embarrassment left as quickly as it came and you began to reach for his pants. His hand rested over yours. “Have you ever had sex?” He asked and you shook your head reluctantly. He sighed. “I can’t do that right now. I won’t make that something that happens when you’re drunk, let alone in a field outside the Temple.” He finished and you sighed. A nod followed.
“Okay..” You smiled and he gently pulled your shirt back over your head and began to raise your pants to your waist again. You lifted your hips to help him as he got you dressed before he put his own shirt back on. He grabbed your robe and tied it around you the same way you had done earlier before brushing your hair behind your ear.
“You’re beautiful.” He said and you pushed at his chest lightly. He grasped at his chest as if he’d been shot and fell over onto his back. You laughed at him and he laughed with you. It was nice seeing this side of him, it made him seem like he was just a normal boy. You liked feeling normal.
“I want to take you out. Somewhere nice.” He sat up, his hand rested on your leg. You raised an eyebrow at him.
“Like a date? As if we have the time.” You laughed gently.
“We both have time, while the council decides on what we need to do about this stupid war.” He shrugged and you looked at him, resting your hand over his on your leg.
“Fine. I’ll go on a date with you.” You nodded.
“Don’t sound too excited.” He joked as he stood up, pulling you up with him.
“I’ll try not to.” You smiled at him and your cheeks went bright red when he laced his fingers within your own, holding your hand as he walked you back through the dark hallways to your apartment.
When you finally arrived at your door, you unlocked it and he stepped in with you. You turned back to look at him with confusion.
“I couldn’t find my key. That’s why I was wandering around earlier.” He said sheepishly and you laughed harder than you had in years. It took a few moments for you to compose yourself.
“Oh that’s why you said and did all that? You just needed a place to sleep?” You joked and he rolled his eyes.
“I’d have found a cleaner apartment to do so if that was the case.” He joked back and you giggled.
“You can stay here.” You smiled and showed him the bathroom and the room, even though your apartment was small and you didn’t really need to. He made his way to your couch and you scoffed. “You just made me cum in a field and you’re trying to sleep on my couch? Go to the bed.” You said as you walked into the bathroom and you heard him chuckle behind you.
“You got a point.” He said as he sat on the edge of your bed. He pulled his shirt off and folded it neatly on the floor beside him, ignoring the fact that half your clothes were strewn across the room carelessly. He could fix that later.
The two of you laid down and he held you close as you fell into a deep sleep. You’d never slept that well before and neither had he.
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split-spectrum · 26 days
Text
Concessions
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Chapter 2
Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader
Chapter Length: 3.4K
Warnings/Tags: edging, orgasm denial, sexting, masturbation, dubious consent
Description: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him. The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find every exception.
☆☆☆
Sweeping a towel around your body, you smirk as your personal commlink chirps again. 
Hm, eager this time, you think, tucking the towel around your chest and watching the holoscreen illuminate with a text reply. 
It's not entirely a bad thing, his eagerness. Penchar is on world very infrequently, and your last meeting a year ago was rather to-the-point, which works well for both of you. His career as a merchant brings him to every corner of the galaxy, while the same goes for you as a Jedi. When your paths cross, you can usually find some no-strings enjoyment.
[if i make it into port next week, will you be around?]
You tap the side of your commlink with your finger, thinking over your schedule. You send back a non-commital response. It would be nice to make the time for it, but you can't be certain. 
[can i have a little preview, just in case?] his message reads in reply.
You press your lips together, staring down at the message, dripping wet and naked beneath your towel. His timing is impeccable. Taking only a short moment to think it over, you decide to indulge. 
You set the cam to auto, placing it across from your bed, on your nightstand. Then you peel away the towel and lie back, easing yourself into the soft blankets covering your bed. You fold an arm across your chest, pressing your breasts in close and giving a sultry smile. When you're satisfied with the handful of clicks the commlink emits, you pick it back up to look over your work.
You find the one you like - smile soft and eyes half-lidded as you brush the soft, dewy skin of your forearm arm against your nipples. You can't see much; only the tops of your breasts, but the angle is perfect and the light catches the curve of your cleavage nicely. 
You select the file, scroll down to his name in your contacts list, and press send. 
When you finish dressing a few minutes later, you check your commlink - no new messages - and blink in surprise. It's a little odd since he normally responds quite quickly, but you shrug it off and pick up your datapad, settling in for a night catching up on your work. There's an excursion Master Plo has planned for a group of Jedi knights to some of the planets along the Shaltin Tunnels and you've been tasked with charting the fuel stops. As usual, you've left it until the last minute and you finally have some spare time to get it done. You cross the room and lie back on your couch, flipping through some of your files and messages, determined to keep your concentration where it belongs. 
When an hour has passed, you raise an eyebrow and finally allow yourself to stand back up and check your commlink. He might have gotten busy, of course, but this is a bit excessive. 
No messages.
With a slightly furrowed brow, you pull up the file. 
Sent
Mentally shrugging, you set the commlink back down and you're just about to return to your work when a message chimes. 
[i guess youd rather make me wait ey?]
There must be a bad connection where he is at the moment. Hovering your finger over the file briefly, you press down on resend.
Many long minutes later, you pass the device again, eyeing it as you pace around your kitchen, making yourself a cup of tea. The screen remains blank and silent. 
By the time you have a hot drink in your hand and ease back into the cushions of your couch, you decide to let it rest. This has happened before; he'll either call when his reception is better, or he won't. If not, you'll catch one another next time he's in the quadrant. 
Stretching your legs, you take a sip of your tea and settle in for more charts and maps.
The next thing you know, the beeping of your commlink wakes you, and you take in a heavy breath through your nose. It's morning. 
Peeling yourself from the couch, you drop the datapad, still in your hand, on a side table. So much for getting caught up on your work. Standing up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you yawn as you bend over to look at the commlink. You squint at the glowing screen. It's just one word; your name. And it's from Obi Wan. 
You blink to focus your eyes, scrolling up in your messages from him. 
The soft edges of your sleep-soaked mind are sharpened into stark, bright reality all at once when you see the previous message you'd sent him.
Stars above, no - please, no, you think desperately.
Then another message comes through.
[If this is a joke, I am not laughing]
--
The minutes of every activity have seemed to crawl punishingly slowly from sunrise to sunset. You've been checking your commlink so often it's become irritating, and yet... you pick it up again. 
Still nothing. 
You'd decided not to respond back, after attempting to type several explanations through text that had been woefully inadequate. Calling him seemed impossible at the time, and eventually you'd come to the conclusion that speaking in person would be the best way forward. 
When the time finally comes and you're knocking at the door to his quarters, you realize that having all day to rehearse what you'd wanted to say has done absolutely nothing to help you. 
"Hello."
Seeing his face at last, you fail completely to come up with anything. 
You decide to try your best at an honest apology anyway. The words come out jumbled, and too quick. 
"Look, I just need to say, I am so, so sorry."
He gives the faintest of smiles, and he steps to the side, allowing you in. 
"That was... incredibly inappropriate. A stupid, clumsy mistake on my part. Alright? And I'm really sorry," you finish, not able to meet his eyes until you're done talking. 
The light in his quarters is warm and the glow of Coruscant's sun paints his sparse furniture. Obi Wan is still wearing his tunic, belt and boots. He must have just finished his duties, as you have. He waves a hand toward one of his chairs, inviting you to sit as you enter, but you give him a look that says you prefer to remain standing.
"There is no need for apologies, I assure you."
With that, your shoulders finally lose some of their tension. "Thank you. But for what it's worth, I'd still like to offer one."
His faint smile turns deeper, spreading over his face. "You needn't worry. We have all been a shot of spotchka past our better judgement from time to time."
Your words stop short of your mouth, brain reconfiguring. "It wasn't... that isn't what happened."
He doesn't miss a beat. "Right. Well, in any case, apology accepted."
Then he turns from you, casually removing his belt and lightsaber and placing them on the table nearby. Something about his easy demeanor makes you feel the need to clarify. 
"Obi Wan. It was an accident. I hope I'm making that clear."
His smile drifts into a smirk, and then he makes a show of dropping into a serious expression. "No, of course."
"You don't believe me," you say softly.
"I never said that."
His words stun you, and you need to gather yourself before trying again. "It was an accident."
He raises his brows, making it clear he thinks you're the one being obtuse. "Oh, certainly. Those commlinks can be so tricky; I can't tell you how many times I've tried to send a simple message, only to find that my clothes have come off."
Your face heats. You wouldn't have minded him being entertained by a stupid mistake. But his implication that you would try to cover it up is getting unexpectedly under your skin.
"That's not what I meant."
"I know," he says, still not fully dropping the amusement from behind his eyes. "I know; I'm sorry. But, come now. We are friends, are we not? We can be honest with one another."
The nerve. You release a slow breath. "So you do think I'm lying."
"There is no need for such harsh words."
"Listen, I'm sorry you got that picture, but I really didn't send it to you on purpose."
"Ah. Surely you meant to send the schematic for my new ship. Instead, you must have tripped, taken this photo, and sent it. Twice."
That's it. You've tried to be generous. 
"No. Taking the picture wasn't an accident. And sending it wasn't, either. I just didn't mean to send it... to you."
The easy smile is gone. "Oh." 
He holds your gaze, never faltering before he turns his attention back to the table. "I see. My apologies."
He begins unclipping his lightsaber from his belt with quick, deliberate movements. 
"I really didn't mean to make things more difficult for you."
"You haven't." 
His answer is much too quick. There's a pause where you wait for him to soften the blow, but he just looks up at you, holding his belt and saying nothing. Then he crosses the room to hang it up. 
"You haven't," he reiterates. "You needn't worry about that."
If there's one thing Obi Wan does not like, it's appearing foolish. He pretends not to have an ego, and while he's proven his humility time and time again, you also know the younger, sharper, harsher man he used to be. And you see glimpses of him now and then. 
"Good," you affirm. "Because I hope we are friends, after all, and I didn't mean to... rub it in your face. You know, having someone to-" You let the statement hang. "...when you don't."
He blinks at you. "What makes you say that?"
That stings. Not the idea that he could have someone else, but the idea that he would keep it from you. Or, worse yet, that he would let his wounded pride lead you to believe he does. 
"Just because I have chosen not to partake at the moment doesn't mean-"
"You're right. I shouldn't have assumed." You cut him off, shaking your head, and start to back toward the door. "I'm just happy to hear you haven't been affected by my... lack of better judgment."
He walks after you. "Wait; there's no need for you to go. You have nothing to be embarrassed about."
Your eyes widen. "Oh, I'm not embarrassed. Believe me, I'm not the one who should be."
He follows you to the door, and as you exit, you promptly close it in his face.
--
Embarrassed?
Jedi should not allow petty, small feelings of annoyance to grow into the frustration you're currently feeling. And knowing that he's likely suffering from months of depriving himself a certain outlet should really allow you to give him more grace. 
But, embarrassed? 
You finish your meditation for the evening more irritated than when you began. It's almost impressive. 
Getting into bed, you scroll back in your messages to find the picture you'd sent. No, you absolutely have nothing to be embarrassed about. 
You chew your lower lip, and in spite of your attempts to think of anything besides Obi Wan, you can't help but imagine his face when he'd opened it. 
In fact... 
[Since that picture didn't seem to bother you, you probably wouldn't mind another?]
Still rubbing your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitate before slipping off your outer robe and committing to your decision. 
You're still wearing your undergarments, and you pull down the bodice you usually wear beneath your tunic, just until your breasts are lifted and squeezed deliciously tightly. Your nipples are barely visible, starting to spill over the top of the dark fabric, and you take a few pictures in the dim light, popping your mouth open slightly for good measure. You review the pictures, then lick your lips and take another. 
There - the one with your cheeks flushed and saliva shining, almost as if your mouth is watering for something to be pressed inside. 
You press send, and you get no response. But you go to sleep with a satisfied smirk. 
-- 
"And during the latter half of the temple visiting hours, please be mindful that the docking bay area is restricted to 40 percent landing capacity due to..."
The Coruscant municipal enforcement officer drones on, entering the third hour of the mandatory annual community guidelines seminar. Your eyelids would normally be struggling to stay apart by this point in the day, if it were not for the golden-haired Jedi currently pretending to absently scratch at his short beard as he glances downward. 
You check your commlink again, making sure your settings are silenced. 
[if you got my last message, it's rather rude of you not to reply] you'd sent him shortly after he'd walked through the door.
He'd looked around until he'd spotted you. Then he'd pretended not to. 
[i can only guess you didn't get it, then. don't worry. i took a few more]
He still didn't answer, but you watched as he slowly seemed to look down into his lap more often. After a few more moments without reply, you'd carefully covered your screen with your sleeve and sent him another angle of the shot from last night - this one leaning forward more, with the soft curve between your breasts on prominent display. 
You'd been stealing glances ever since. And so had he. 
[i think you're right, by the way. don't think i have anything to be embarrassed about. do you?]
You watch as he looks down again, then looks back up as if giving his rapt attention to the presentation on imported fruit. The lights lower, and you see his screen glow as he receives another message from you. 
[if you want me to stop, just say so]
His hand swipes over the message, closing it. The screen goes dark. 
You look over your shoulder casually, shifting in your seat, and you take a very long time before sending one last message. 
This one is closer - much closer. It's an image of your nipple, peeking from between your two fingers. Your hand is cupping the bottom of your breast and your index and middle finger gently fix themselves on either side of your stiff bud, coaxing the sensitive tip to harden for him. You swallow and quickly press send, closing your screen again and casting a sideways glance to ensure only your eyes had seen. Thankfully the eyes surrounding you are half-closed in boredom. 
When you chance a look in Obi Wan's direction, you see his screen illuminating the inside of his sleeve, and no reaction as he turns it off again. He remains completely motionless, looking back up at the presenter. 
But you catch it when the muscle of his jaw clenches, hard. You also catch the way his adam's apple bobs in his throat with a swallow. And you absolutely catch the way he turns his head to look at you, then suddenly flicks his eyes forward again, unblinking, and doesn't look back for the remainder of the day. 
 
--
You're starting to soften a bit by the time you're back in your quarters that evening, finally beginning to feel that the punishment has outweighed Obi Wan's offenses, as you look back through your very one-sided conversation. Despite yourself, you smile, taking a bite of your jogan fruit snack before bed, and decide to relent. 
[just checking if i've made another error in sending... you are getting these, yes?]
You aren't really expecting an answer, just trying to lighten the mood. But you get one. 
[yes]
[i see. i'm glad i haven't embarrassed myself further. what do you say we call it even?]
You get no response. Perhaps he's more irritated than you'd realized. You smirk. The thought really shouldn't be so pleasing. 
Then your commlink chimes. [it would take a greater fool than i to refuse a fine gift, freely given]
The fruit juice drips down your chin. You scramble to wipe it, as caught off-guard as you are. Is he... asking for more?
[who says these are gifts? i considered them more as punishment]
You stand up to wash the fruit from your mouth and face, then cross the room to stare at the screen again. This was the last response you'd expected. 
He doesn't reply back. You could leave it here. You could have mercy and respect the trial; make it easier on him. But then, he always seems to want to make things harder for himself. You might as well help him. 
Leaning back and spreading out on your bed, you send another picture. Then another. Minutes pass without any response, so you send another. You get creative. 
You're talking to a wall - he doesn't answer. But you're starting to get wet, thinking about why he might not be. 
You dip your fingers into your own slick, and then a thought occurs to you. You send him an image of your glistening fingers. Then you set down the cam, closing your eyes and circling your clit, sucking in a breath through your teeth as you play with yourself, imagining searing blue eyes and the weight of his body on top of yours. 
You're close. It's now been several long minutes since your last message and still nothing from him. So you decide to send one final message. A sign-off for the evening. 
You tip the cam down between your legs and take a dimly-lit shot, touching yourself for him to see. 
It feels like you've been holding your breath, right at the edge, for hours. But it can't have been more than a minute before your commlink chimes. 
It's an image. You open the file.
Thick fingers grip like death around the base of a hard, leaking cock.
You choke, pussy twitching wildly as you stop yourself from tipping into an orgasm at the sight of it. He's dripping; a mess. You can see every vein in his hand bulging with the effort of strangling his swollen, drooling dick. 
Dialing. Now. 
The hand you aren't using to call him is still wet, but you manage to pull it from between your legs, covering yourself with your bedsheets. 
The chimes come to an end. He didn't pick up. 
You realize you're incredibly stupid for dialing again, but your brain took its leave the moment you opened that file. 
His holoimage glows bright and blue before you, and it strikes you all at once that he's actually answered. You sit up straighter, covering your chest with your bedding, and stare at him. 
He's staring right back, shoulders bare, muscles tight. You can see a hint of dampness at his temple. 
"Wh- why did you send that?" you ask, blurting the first words that come to mind. "We can't..." You try again. "What was that for?"
His eyes seem to cut through the hologram and straight into you, burning down to the pit of your stomach. "Presumably, to show you've achieved your goal."
He doesn't sound pleased. In fact, he almost sounds... frustrated. Defiant. You notice his right shoulder clenching. Your eyes are roving hungrily over every bit of his body, bathed in the dim blue glow of the hologram. You lick your lips, panting out, "My goal? What would that be?"
The muscles of his neck tense as he swallows, but he stays silent. Then, slowly, he clicks a button which expands the screen and shows where his other hand is. 
It's dark between his legs, but you can definitely see the outline of his pulsing, dripping cock. And you can see how hard the muscles of his hand are working to choke himself off. No movement. Just the shadows trailing over his clenched stomach as he breathes in and out. 
"I imagine," he grinds out, "this is what you wanted, is it not?"
You drag your gaze back up from his center, trying to force a cool, detached tone in your shaky voice. "And... what are we going to do about that?"
He looks almost furious at the question, and his answer seethes out between his teeth. 
"You tell me."
--
Taglist: @slinkygail @millercontracting @cacti5539 @wheres-mylove @holdingonforheaven
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geekywritings · 1 year
Text
“Dance with me.”
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Cal Kestis x reader
You convinced the crew to take a small break to attend a local festival for a much deserved downtime. Convincing a certain Jedi to dance with you is much harder, however. Or is it?
_____
„Dance with me.“
You had asked Cal to do a lot of crazy things. To explore unknown territories, to jump across impossibly wide canyons and to take down Imperial bases full of Stormtroopers. And never had he hesitated to say yes. Until now.
He looks at your outstretched hand and swallows hard. “I don’t think…”, he begins and instantly the smile on your face diminishes. As if sensing his discomfort about it, though, you are quick to pat his shoulder.
“No worries. It’s not for everyone.”, you assure him and disappear back into the dancing crowd, joining the masses as they jump, turn and just move around to the heavy beat of the drums.
“Why didn’t you join her?”, Cere asks when she returns with your drinks, clearly having witnessed the scene.
“I have no clue how to dance.”, Cal admits with a shrug. “It wasn’t exactly part of Jedi training.”
Cere chuckles. “It’s not like they are following specific steps.”
“That makes it even harder.”
Cal learned to let go of many things, but the Order and the lifestyle it had taught were also still deeply ingrained. There was always a given path or a pre-defined routine to stick to. This is far beyond his comfort zone. His new mentor stares at him for a few moments and suddenly says: “Time for a lesson.”
“What?”, the red-head asks, hand stopping mid-motion on its way to grab his cup.
“It’s time I teach you something beyond the Order’s knowledge. Stand.”
Slowly he follows, though confusion and hesitation are visible in every movement. Cere moves them into position and then tells him the steps. Easy ones. Basically like walking in a box.
“That’s it?” The surprise is thick in Cal's voice and clearly written all over his face.
“In a way, yes.”
They return to the table and Cal’s eyes slide back to you. Or to where you had been before. Apparently, you have danced your way deeper into the crowd and out of his sight. His attention is drawn back when Greeze shows up with food and he busies himself talking with his found family until his fellow Jedi's return.
You are out of breath, but smiling so brightly that Cal can't help but stare. Have you ever been more beautiful? Hair dishevelled, cheeks flushed and lips drawn into a permanent grin. “Ahh, this was so much fun.”, you sigh, dropping onto the empty seat next to Cal and pouring yourself a drink.
The conversation returns to Greeze’s new recipe ideas and plans on where to go next, while the surrounding festival seems to slow down. Soon, the music is soft and gentle, leaving mostly couples moving to the tune. Cere gives Cal a nudge under the table, motioning toward the marketplace behind you.
He knows what his mentor is asking, but the young man still finds himself swallowing hard. He can do this. He fought Darth Vader and came out alive. Surely, asking you to dance is easier than that.
“Y/N?”
You look up from your almost empty plate and Cal almost loses his voice again.
“Uhm… I know I said no before, but… do you wanna dance now?” Ok, that didn’t come across as confident as he would have liked, but at least the words HAD left him at all. First, he is met with a gasp and seconds later with that happy smile of yours again that gets his heart beating faster. “Yes, of course!”, you agree, instantly pushing your plate aside.
He offers you his hand, before leading you toward the dancing couples, trying to relax his body. He is good with remembering steps, so that's not the issue. But will he do it right? All negative thoughts slip away when you place one of his hands around your waist, before grasping the other one, your bodies pressed together.
With his mind pleasantly blank, Cal begins to move, the steps so much easier to do when he doesn't worry about making a mistake. All he can think of is how you feel in his arms, how happy you look at this moment and how badly he wants this to continue forever. The steps you are taking are slow, barely moving as you just sway to the slow melody. Nobody says a thing, but it is the most comfortable of silences.
Gently, Cal draws you even closer, your foreheads soon resting against each other as you continue the slow dance. “This is the best part of the festival.”, you whisper and Cal’s heart soars. “I didn’t even know you could dance.”
“I didn’t until today.”, he admits with a little grin.
“Well, then you are naturally talented.”, you compliment back, making his lips twitch upward even more.
There won't be many moments like this, you both know. It makes it all the more special amid the war and the constant danger.
“Thank you for taking me here. It means a lot to me.”, you speak again.
“Whatever makes you happy.”, he replies honestly and without hesitation.
Your eyes have this mischievous look in them again. The one that worries and excites the Jedi at the same time.
“Whatever makes me happy? Hmmm… maybe I should utter another wish then.”
He raises an eyebrow at you, expecting something crazy.
“Kiss me.”
Force, how he loves you. And even if you HAD asked for something crazy, he would have jumped into action right away. Everything to make you happy.
“As you wish.”, he whispers, before his lips met yours in a soft kiss. This is perfect. Who knew a dance could ever make you two this happy?
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clu-ven · 1 year
Note
I don‘t know if your Requests are open, but if they are could you write one where the Reader is a Jedi and traveling with the Bad Batch and when they meet Rex in the Bar she finally reunites with him and the Bad Batch just being so confused that a Jedi and Clone were in a relationship while the Republic was still there.🤗
That Familiar Feeling
word count: 3.4k
tags: vague mentions of dealing with grief and order 66, self-doubt, crying, many happy kisses
~and before anyone points it out, lemme just say this doesn't exactly match the scene of Rex reuniting with the Batch (for obvious reasons and because I forgot little details which is annoying me lol)~
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Something’s… off.
Entering Cid’s Parlour, the feeling of the force overwhelms you. It’s as if someone has thrown cold water over you, the force welcoming you with an eerie friendliness. It makes you falter, stopping abruptly as the sensation ambushes you.  
“Oof-” Echo walks straight into you, bumping against your shoulder. He takes a step to the side, his surprised expression quickly becoming one of concern “You ok? What is it?”. 
“I… I’m not sure,” you answer honestly, before trying to ease his worry “It’s probably nothing, I’ll be fine in a few minutes”. 
Echo isn’t convinced but he gives you a nod, not wanting to pry. “If you’re sure…” giving you a swift once over to make sure you didn’t get injured on the mission, he carries on.
It’s been a while since you last connected with the force, becoming hesitant to reach out ever since it happened. You tried in the initial days after the order was given but the overwhelming pain and grief that greeted you each time made you pull away. 
It’s not something you could deal with then and it’s not something you can deal with now, the wounds still fresh in your mind.
But this is a different feeling. It’s the force you used to know, something that worked with you and not against. It’s familiar… and that puts you on edge. 
With this familiarity brings a fear of the unknown. When you worked hand in hand with the force, you could have located what’s causing this in a matter of seconds… but nowadays, where you go from week to week without reaching out to the force, it’s much harder, with the subtle shift in atmosphere being your only warning that something is different.
Your eyes scan the parlour, though there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The usual crowd is here, drinking their problems away and playing Dejarik.
Unfortunately, the Batch has gotten back later than expected, so the limited sunlight that graces Cid’s parlour during the day has vanished. Now, you can only rely on the frustratingly dim lights to help your investigation.
“C’mon, this way,” Cid cuts off your search, walking past you as she gestures to her office. Everyone begins to follow her, though you’re more reluctant. 
Hunter catches your eye and you know he can sense it too but through a different method. Exchanging uneasy looks, you both make a silent agreement to stay on high alert before trailing after Cid and into her office. 
Thankfully Cid isn’t in the mood for nonsense (when is she?) and so she gets straight into business. You stay quiet during the debrief of the mission and the accompanied discussion of payment, your mind elsewhere.
Although the feeling isn’t as strong in here, it’s still undoubtedly nearby, invading your every thought. Even when Cid’s focus turns to you, the feeling’s hold on you doesn’t fade.
“What’s her problem?” her voice is faint, as if she’s far off in the distance. 
You don’t react. While this feeling is certainly daunting, a part of you is scared that if you push it away, this sliver of familiarity will slip through your fingers and disappear forever.
More talking ensues, though it’s more like mumbling to you, and you presume Cid has brushed past your reserved demeanour.
The harder you focus on the force, the quieter their voices become. Closing your eyes to further centre yourself, the feeling slowly becomes intelligible. You’re so close to uncovering what is causing this when it happens.
The sound of blaster fire is so sudden, you accidentally let go of the feeling, your body tensing at the noise. Your eyes dart open and for a split second, everyone freezes, the realisation of conflict sinking in before military training quickly takes over. 
You reach down, instinctively going to grab your lightsaber but instead find a blaster in its place. Turns out, carrying a lightsaber in a galaxy where Jedi are seen as traitors isn’t the best idea.
Hunter takes the lead, charging out of the office and into the main area. Cid keeps up his pace, ready to defend her business with everything she’s got. You’re next in line, alongside Echo. Tech and Wrecker are the last out, both keeping Omega close.
As the other patrons scurry out, a hooded figure stands by one of the tables. Placing their blaster down on the metal surface, their armour immediately catches your attention. You almost didn’t notice the colour painted on to the plastoid, the dim lights distorting the shade of blue. 
It can’t be. Surely not. 
As much as your brain wants to rationalise it as being someone else, the instantly recognisable blue of the 501st is hard to deny. Before the figure pulls down their hood, the feeling finally reveals itself to you. 
This familiar feeling is not one to fear. It is not the grief of losing one’s you admittedly became attached to or the terror of how the war ended but instead, it’s the exact opposite. 
It’s a reminder of why you fought so hard. It’s the warmth people can bring, the safety you give others and is fondly reciprocated. But it’s more than that. It’s love. It’s Rex.
“Who are you?” yells Cid, gesturing to him. The others are still on high alert, with not even the likes of Echo noticing the comforting blue paint.
His gloved hands cautiously pull down his hood, revealing the face you’ve longed to see again. He looks uncertain, his eyes glancing over everyone until finally landing on you. 
Although his face is sullen with a mist of hesitancy shrouding his expression, you can still see his gaze soften for you. And that’s all you need to know it’s actually him standing in front of you, not some brainwashed soldier or distraction sent by the Empire. It’s truly him, the Rex you know and love.
Despite always wanting to hold out hope that you would meet him someday, you couldn’t deny the facts stated on the Empire’s records. You remember the ache in your chest when Tech read it out, solemnly stating that Rex was reported dead.
Tears sprout from your eyes, a mixture of pure happiness and relief washing over you. Echo opens his mouth to speak but you get there first, taking the words out of his mouth.
“Rex!” his name comes out as a choked cry, your knees starting to buckle as you close the distance between you both, Hunter and Cid automatically stepping out of your way. 
You don’t think you’ve ever felt so much emotion at once. Even when you first heard the news that Rex supposedly perished with the others, you suppressed your emotions. Though that was more out of fear, unsure if you could control the power of the force while facing so much grief. 
Perhaps that’s another reason why you distanced yourself from the force, scared that the constantly lurking presence of the dark side might have used such powerful yet negative emotions against you.
You know Rex isn’t a big fan of PDA, especially around his brothers but as you throw your arms around him, you feel him hold you back. His strong arms wrap around your waist, one hand running up your back to keep you as close as possible.
It’s a surreal moment to feel him against you, his hard armour hidden underneath his cloak digging into you as you try to press yourself even closer to him. Not that you particularly care about that right now. The only thing that matters at this moment is Rex. 
Burying your face into his neck, the warmth of his skin soothes you and for the first time in months, you relax. 
“I… I thought you…” you want to say a million things at once, your brain unable to pick one coherent thought to say “I heard what happened… the mission report said you were… Oh, Rex”.
Giving up on trying to speak, you move to see that handsome face of his again, your hands instinctively coming up to his jawline.
The look in his eyes isn’t what you’re expecting. A mixture of worry and fear shines in his gaze, his eyebrows pinching together as he wordlessly looks at you. It doesn’t take a jedi to figure out why this is his initial reaction. Considering the recent event between all clones and jedi’s, it’s understandable for him to be nervous. 
He’s scared that you won’t trust him, that what you once had together has died alongside the Republic. There’s only one way you can think of that can give Rex the reassurance he so desperately yearns for. Using your hands to keep his head in place, you kiss him. 
At first, you feel him tense. The shock that not only are you kissing him in general but in front of his brothers making him freeze. But just as you wonder if you made the right move, Rex melts into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as his lips begin moving against yours.
Unbeknownst to you, as your lips touch your beloved Captain’s, the Batches' mouths all happen to fall open. Well, most of them anyways. Tech is too busy doing something on his datapad to witness the kiss. 
Wrecker, who stands next to Tech, gives his brother a nudge. Tech looks up at his shocked face before looking over at you and Rex… and then casually back down to his datapad. 
“Wha- Tech,” Wrecker tries to whisper “are you seeing what I’m seeing? Or was I hit on the head too hard?”.
Tech glances up again just in time to see the end of the kiss and you affectionately bury your head back into the crook of Rex’s neck, the both of you whispering sweet nothings to one another.
“Considering her reaction when I informed her of the Captain's supposed demise, this isn’t a surprise” he shrugs, refocusing on his datapad.
Despite Tech’s statement that this isn’t a surprise, it most definitely is for Hunter, who stands there in complete shock. Even with his heightened senses, Hunter didn’t expect this. He isn’t sure what to do or where to look but thankfully, Omega grabs his attention. 
She lets out a small gasp as she makes her way to the front of the group, looking up at the others before a large grin spreads across his face.
“They look like good friends” she gives Hunter a wink and he rolls his eyes, subtly placing his hand on Omega's shoulder so he can swiftly cover her eyes if you two kiss again. 
Just like his brothers, Echo’s mouth falls open too but his lips quickly form a smirk. Memories come rushing back to him as he remembers the rumours that you two liked each other as well as the countless number of times Fives would try to get the Captain to admit his feelings.
It’s a strangely satisfying moment to see you both wrapped in each other’s embrace, finally getting some closure to what was once seen as a far fetched piece of gossip.
Speaking loudly so you’ll both hear, Echo pats Hunter on the back “C’mon, let’s give them some space”. As you pull your attention away from Rex, you watch the others silently agree, most of them giving you a reassuring nod before retreating to the bar area. 
Within a matter of moments, you lead Rex to one of the quieter parts of the parlour, your hand in his as you sit on one of the lumpy couches. Rex sits beside you, hand still enclosed around yours. 
You watch the Captain with adoration in your eyes, giving him a moment of silence as he gathers his thoughts. Your gaze lowers to his neck, noticing how his Adam's apple bobs anxiously. But then, he speaks.
“I… I thought about you every rotation, no matter how painful it was” Rex keeps his gaze down, watching how his thumb begins to rub the back of your hand “I wasn’t sure if you… well, if you made it. I tried searching for you through mission reports but when the Republic fell, my code was denied access to all official reports”. He huffs out a laugh “I was surprised the Empire was smart enough to do that”.
Giving his hand a small squeeze, you smile, though Rex doesn't notice, his eyes still cast downwards “Tech was able to hack into it. I’m marked as missing in action and uh, well, you’re actually marked as deceased”. You’re unsure how to deliver such news, unable to tell whether being labelled as dead is a good or bad thing, both choices having some pro’s and con’s.
Rex nods, quietly taking in this new information, though right now, he’s not that bothered by what the Empire has him marked as. Rex has more important things to address, the Empire surprisingly being at the back of his mind.
Staying silent, he lets the moment pass. Rex knows why you’re telling him this and he finds some solace in how you want to give him any intel you have. But there’s more important matters… or, well, relationships to discuss. 
Yet despite its importance, Rex is hesitant to bring this up. On one hand, he doesn’t want to mention Order 66 or the horrors it caused but he can’t just ignore it either.
As much as he wants to bask in his ignorance, oblivious to what you’ve been through since then or how you feel about the clones, it’s not something he can do. He has to know how you feel.
Speaking rather abruptly, the words spill from his mouth “I’m sorry for showing up without any warning”. 
You’re taken aback by his words, not seeing a reason why Rex should be apologising. Taking a deep breath, he elaborates “I’m not sure where you were when it happened, or what you’ve been through… I don’t even know if you want to see me and if you don’t, I’ll go”. 
Finally Rex looks up at you, his eyes glossy as he tries to keep his composure. But his voice betrays him, his tone cracking as he continues  “I want you to know that, you won’t hear from me again if that’s what you think is best. You have that choice. I don’t want to put you through more pain, especially after everything this face has done to you”.
You know he’s referring to the clones in general, doing a small gesture to his very recognizable face. Although Rex wasn’t with you when Order 66 was put in place, he has some understanding of what you’ve been through. 
Rex has had a lot of time to think about this, to picture how his brothers suddenly turned on you and tried with all their might to kill you.
It was this very thought that made him hesitate when you first entered the parlour. He was going to call out to you but then the doubts crept in. Maybe you wouldn’t see him but instead simply see the face of a clone, a face that tried to kill you, albeit not him specifically.
You’re sure you can feel your heart ache, watching as Rex tries his best to keep his emotions at bay. Bringing your hand up, you gently cup his face.
Before you can even speak, Rex leaves out a shaky breath, your touch comforting him in ways he didn’t know was possible.
Your voice is stern, determined to get your point across so Rex will undoubtedly understand how you feel. “The only thing this face has done is love me, cherish me, care for me when I’m injured…” you list out as Rex closes his eyes, hanging on your every word “carry me to bed when I’m too stubborn to rest, cheer me up when I’m sad and it’s this face that’ll go to the most dodgiest looking parlour in all of Ord Mantell in the hopes of finding me there”.
He smiles at that last part, a stray tear running down his cheek as he opens his eyes.
You’re quick to wipe it away, mirroring his smile with one of your own. Needing to keep you close, Rex rests his forehead on yours, savouring the sensation of your breath hitting against his face. “You’re sure?” He asks in a low whisper.
“Positive” you confirm, unable to resist the urge to capture his lips in another kiss.
Over at the bar, Wrecker tries his best to inconspicuously look over. Keeping his gaze fixed on the two of you, he nudges Hunter, causing the Sergeant to groan. “They're kissing again” he announces.
Echo rolls his eyes, poking Wrecker with his scomp link “Stop gawking at them, will ya?”. Wrecker flinches away from him, almost stumbling on to Hunter “Hey! Watch it with that!”.
“You’re the one who needs to watch it,” Echo retorts, his gaze drifting over to you two as he repeats his sentence in his head. “Actually, no, don’t watch it or well, them” he tries to clarify, huffing at himself before hastily stating “you need to watch where you’re staring!”.
“I’m just keeping an eye on her!” Wrecker snaps back “I didn’t think Regs and Jedi’s were on good terms anymore”.
Hanging his head low, Hunter tightens his grip on his drink. “Will the two of you shut it?” he huffs, feeling the inklings of a headache coming on. 
Echo opens his mouth to say more but stops himself, not wanting you and Rex to join them mid-argument. Instead, he decides to take another swig of his drink.
“Wrecker does have a point,” Tech chimes in “Rex could still have his inhibitor chip in place”.
Echo wastes no time in jumping in again, determined to defend his Captain. “Oh yeah, he definitely looks like he’s still chipped,” he replies sarcastically.
“Perhaps another defective chip? Or maybe the control the inhibitor chips possess are only for a limited time” Tech thinks out loud, purposely ignoring Echo’s response. 
“This is one long kiss,” Wrecker comments, causing Echo to once again roll his eyes as he realises Wrecker is still looking over “you don’t think they're going to uh… y’know… take it further? They know we can see them, right?”.
Echo doesn't even warrant that question deserving of a reply. 
Almost causing Hunter’s heart to jump out of his chest, Omega chirps up “How would they take it further”. She looks up at the Batch with an excited smile, the adrenaline of another clone being here yet to settle.
Hunter shoots Wrecker a glare, hurriedly fishing a few credits out of his pocket. “Here, kid” he drops the credits into Omega’s hand “do me a favour and beat Wrecker in a few games of Dejarik”. 
Omega’s eyes grow wide at the credits as she leaves out an “Oooooh” noise. Barking out a loud laugh, Wrecker beams “C’mon best of three, loser has to buy the winner Mantell Mix”. As the two of them wander off to another part of the parlour, Hunter leaves out a silent sigh of relief. 
The abrupt sound of Wrecker’s laugh catches both you and Rex off guard, causing Rex to reluctantly break off the kiss. His eyes dart from your face to where the others relax at the bar. “Was that directed at us?” he quietly mumbles, heat racing to his cheeks.
Giving him a reassuring smile, you peck his lips one more time “I doubt it, Rex”.
Rex gives you his signature lopsided smile in response, something you’ve ached to see for months. It makes you want to kiss him again but you can sense the others glancing over. 
“You ready to go over to them?” he asks, though judging from how his gaze lingers on your lips, you’re not the only one with the urge to kiss. 
“Yeah,” you nod, giving him a playful nudge as you add “the sooner you say hi to your brothers, the sooner I get you all to myself”. 
Rex chuckles in reply, standing as he tries to compose himself. “Oh you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone” he offers you his hand, shooting you a mischievous wink as he does.
“Well, Captain, you just have to wait another twenty minutes and I’m all yours” taking his hand, you stand, ready to reunite Rex with the Batch.
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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 year
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Clan of Three - Chapter 1
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Chapter One: The Mandalorian, The Child, and The Thief
Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.
Word Count: 5.9K
Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader
Warnings: Fighting, teenage behavior, small injuries
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A ship known by many for the man on board, he couldn’t even be described as a man. Skillful in languages, the ways of a blaster, and hand-to-hand, part of a race of the past. The bounty hunter, part of the creed. Their famous words, ‘This is the Way’.
The Mandalorian...
Dirt and dust fill the air as the Pre-Galactic ship lands on the planet of Nevarro. A sharp hiss comes from the landing gear as the large ramp opens up a man dressed in the finest armor and weapons stalks through the town. Looks and whispers as he makes his way through the town. A cantina filled with music and booze, its patrons conversating with one another or drinking their problems away but the arrival of this bounty hunter silences them instantly as his cold gaze scans across the room.
Spotting hidden in the corner a dark-skinned man who once his eyes meet his helmet raises a hand, “Ah, that was fast. Did you catch them all?” He asks and the hunter silently places all the tracking fobs on the table in front of him, “Good. I’ll begin the off-load.” The man nods at the seat in front of him and the other man sits down. Pulling his reward from his pocket and sliding them across the table.
“These are Imperial credits.” The Mandalorian says finding no use in them, the empire was something he didn’t want to support. The other man shrugs trying to convince him, “They still spend.”
The masked ban glares at the other man through his helmet, “I don’t know if you heard, but the empire is gone, Greef” His modulated voice shows his disgust and irritation.
“It’s all I’ve got.” The man puts his hands up and the hunter stands grabbing his trackers rather to give them to someone who will pay his preferred currency, “Save the theatrics…fine I’ll.” He sighs pocketing the money and pulling out a different payment, “I can do Calamari Flan, but I can only pay half.” He looks at other options contemplating them before grabbing the blue credits.
Greef signals someone in the cantina who leaves to unload the bounties on the ship, “Okay…I have a bail jumper, bail jumper, another bail jumper, a wanted smuggler-” “I’ll take them all.” The Mandalorian cuts off the man’s listing ready for new work making Greef let out a laugh.
“Nah, hold on. There are other members of the Guild, and this is all I have.” He shakes his head but the bounty hunter didn’t care about other people, “Why so slow?”
“It's not slow at all. Actually, very busy. They just don't want to pay Guild rates. They don't mind if things get sloppy.” Greef explains leaning back in his seat and gesturing to the bar quickly bringing him a drink. The Mandalorian watches him twitching to get off this planet and onto the next bounty and reward,
“What’s your highest bounty?”
“Not much. Five thousand.” Greef recalled his highest payment for all those bounties, the price bothering the hunter,
“That won't even cover fuel these days.”
The Guild member nods slowly before one job he forgot to mention comes to mind, “Hmm. There is one job.”
“Let’s see the puck.” The hunter holds out his hand ready to start.
Greef shook his head taking a sip of his drink, “No puck. Face to face. Direct commission. Deep pocket.” This was not a normal occurrence, bounties always had a puck or something for the bounty hunter. The Mandalorian could only think who was so important to whoever wanted them dead or alive.
“Underworld?” Mando questioned,
“All I know is no chain code” Greef pulls out a chit card placing it on the table between the two of them taunting the hunter the offer not standing for long, “Do you want the chit or not?”
Arriving at the meeting with the client he hadn’t expected the empire to lead to a standoff with four remnant stormtroopers' blasters aimed at him and his weapons aimed at them. A hand stops the soldiers and they all lower their weapons the bounty hunter slowly lowering his but not putting it away. “He also said you were expensive. Very expensive,” The client gestured to him to sit, “Please sit.” The Mandalorian sits down hesitant his hand twitching at his gun when the client grabs something out of view bringing out something wrapped in cloth. Unwrapping it the shining metal glisters in the light the same metal that decorated the hunter’s body. The staple of the Mandalorians is a metal of high value and meaning.
”Beskar?” He says looking at the metal brick surprised to see such a large piece of it.
“Go ahead. It’s real.” The client allows the hunter to inspect the ingot. “This is only a down payment. I have a case of beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the assets.” The client explains his payment being something large until the words acknowledged him
“Assets?” He was only expecting one bounty for this underground work.
The client nods his wrinkled hands folding together in front of him before waving a hand at the hunter, “I’m sure a man of your skill will have no trouble collecting two assets.”
“Alive.” The otherwise silent doctor pops in standing to the side with a data pad filled with whatever information,
“Yes. Alive. Although, I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee.” The imperial man says and the doctor looks at him in shock, “That is not what we agreed upon.”
“I’m simply being pragmatic.” The client gives his final word before turning back to the silent hunter.
“Let’s see the puck,” He says needing more information before he could decide whether to take the offer. He was going to take it, the second the beskar was brought out he knew it was going to be in better hands once it was returned to the Mandalorians.
The man frowns looking away, “I’m afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking fob.” The doctor hands the Mandalorian a tracking fob.
“What’s the chain code?’ He asked still prying for information.
“We can only provide the last four digits for each.” The client says.
“Their age? That’s all you can give me?” The Mandalorian says growing more frustrated.
“Yes. One of them is 50 years old while the other is 17 years old. We can also give you the last reported positional data. Between that and the fob, a man of your skill should make short work of this.” The client smirks at the bounty hunters' conflict as he gets up and moves to leave. “The beskar belongs back into the hands of a Mandalorian. It is good to restore the natural order of things after a period of such disarray, don't you agree?”
His decision was made then.
The air was cool on your skin as you left your room slipping out through the window to avoid your father asleep just in the other room. It was calming walking through the silent town, but it quickly changes when hands grab you. One quickly covering your mouth to muffle your screams, you kick your leg back hearing a sickening crack as they roar in pain biting on the hand covering your mouth the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. You try to run off knowing you couldn’t overpower the men, you go to scream out when something collides against your head and you crumble to the ground.
That had been about four weeks ago when you later woke up in a room chained to the wall having no idea where you were and even if you were on your planet. It had been about a week into your captivity when you gained a companion. A creature that must have been an infant had joined you. So you watched the child giving portions of your food since he needed it more and watched over him. Silences were common in the room you were being held in other than the babbles and sounds coming from the babe. Until a loud pop sounded muffled before another, you couldn’t tell what it was until the sounds of screams came with them. Gunfire…
The door burst open and two men enter one unlocking your chains and the other grabbing the child’s carrier bringing you out of the darkroom into a larger one. The sounds of fighting and gunfire grow louder out here, “It’s only two of them out there, why won’t they die!” The one with the child growls out pushing his carrier against a pile of crates the harsh movement making him cry out.
“Stop it. You’re going to hurt it.” You push the man away from the child. He whips around smacking you across the face it stings in pain. You glare at him and spit the blood that pools in your mouth right in his face. He wipes the red off him before quickly lifting his rifle slamming the butt of the gun against your temple and you crumple to the ground.
The fight on the outside is long over and almost unfair to the mercenaries, the doors leading into the building explode open with the heavy weapon the bounty hunter uses. The rubble falls around the doorway created as he enters followed by a droid, IG-11. It’s silent as he stalks inside, with quick reflexes as a lone enemy jumps out and is quickly shot down.
“Anyone else?” The bounty hunter calls out as the droid looks around before down at the tracking fob it had.
“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there are two life forms present.” The Mandalorian scans the room coming upon a girl unconscious bleeding from the temple and an egg-shaped container behind her. The tracking fob beeps louder in the direction of both the girl and the container as the hunter cautiously opens it.
“Wait. They said 50 years old.” He looks confused at what was supposedly the 50-year-old asset but looked like a child. 
“Species age differently unlike the female. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” IG-11 explains as the child slowly emerges from the blanket, this tiny green creature looks up at him stretching its hand out to him, “Sadly, we’ll never know.” The IG unit starts to raise its gun but the Mandalorian stops it.
“No. We’ll bring them in alive.” He says commanding the droid to stop and ignore its protocol.
“The commission was quite specific. The assets were to be terminated.” IG raises its two weapons aimed at the child and the girl.
A shot is fired, and the IG unit drops to the ground shot down by the Mandalorian. He puts his blaster back in his holster walking up to the child as it continues to look up at him in wonder. He shifts his gaze from the child to the girl, those two were meant to be his bounties.
Your head stung with pain as you were jostled around in a constant up-down movement. Blinking your eyes adjusting to the bright light, were you dead? Was this heaven? Your vision finally focuses and you see a helmet the visor a T-shape. Fight or flight kicks in as your fist collides with the underside of the mask hitting him straight in the jaw. Not expecting the attack he stumbles still holding you and you push yourself out of his arms. You hit the ground the sand cushioning your fall as you scramble to stand holding out the blade you swiped from his boot. A blaster is pointed at you but you keep your grip on the knife fierce ready to fight. You take in the man before you dressed in armor and weapons, but what had your eyes widen was the design of the helmet. Once you had seen before…Mandalorian.
“Who are you? Where the hell am I?” You hiss out holding the blade with two hands as he has his blaster trained on you before he holsters it holding his hands out showing he was of no harm.
“You're on Arvala-7.” The man says you were slightly taken back that he spoke your language and not Mando’a but you still weren’t taking your chances.
“Who are you?” You glare the knife still pointed at him trying to figure out who he was through the helmet.
“I can’t tell you that but it’s either you trust me or let even more people who aren’t willing to have you alive.” Those mercenaries only kept you alive for whatever reason until this stranger showed up including the child. Your eyes widen…the child!
“Where is it?!” You demand, looking around for the child. You remember the hit of the gun before you were knocked out.
“Where’s what?” “The child.” You see behind him was the container holding him, the creature looking at both of you. “Oh thank the maker, I spent the last few weeks watching over it.” You sigh in relief and the man nods before walking off the carrier following after him,
“We should get going.” You rush after him pocketing the knife in your belt and coming beside him.
“You’re a Mandalorian…I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” You speak up glancing at the silent man, “What’s your name, you never gave one.” He barely looks at you before walking ahead so you were behind him making you scoff, “asshole.” You mumble under your breath dragging your feet through the sand. He continues silently despite the heavy armor that should be making noise as you all enter the base of a canyon. “So do you ever take off your helmet at all? Like even when you slee-”
His hand juts out making you run into it and you glare up at him from the corner of your eye you see his hand slowly reaching for his blaster. An ambush of Trandoshans wielding axes rushing towards you, one swings its axe at you when he shoves you out of the way. You hit the ground pushing yourself up from the sand when one of the bounty hunters wraps his arms around your waist lifting you up into the air and dragging you from the group.
“Hey! Let…me go!” You thrash in his arms twisting and turning in his grip trying to break free, the loud sound of a gunshot right by your head making your ears ring as the both of you hit the ground. You scramble away seeing the blaster wound in his chest and you look back seeing the Mandalorian holding his blaster pointed at you. He lets out a hiss of pain the metal of one of the axes slicing his arm, he prepares to counter when a blade is protruding from the Trandoshan’s hand. He looks back seeing you holding your hand out having thrown the knife before the both of you are attacked by more hunters. You can see one heading towards the child with your hunter busy fighting off two of them. Looking around having lost your weapon when you grab one of the axes the weight is heavy in your grasp. It’s right before the child when you swing the axe the weight and momentum striking its side a screech coming from it. It swings its own axe out and you block it with the handle of the blade the clang of metal and sparks ring through the air. Kicking out at its side making it cry out in pain you swing the axe digging it deep into its arm. You struggle to pull the weapon free and with its own weapon coming at you, you can only dodge letting go of the blade. If you had been a second late it would have been worse than the blade slicing across your cheek. It raises its axe to bring it down on you when it's shot crumbling to the ground. Looking up seeing the Mandalorian blaster still smoking as you quickly move away from the dead enemies to the hunter and the child.
“Thanks.” You breathe out your hand touching your cheek wincing from the pain pulling back and seeing red. He nods his attention turns to the ground where there is a blinking tracking fob.
“We need to keep moving.” He says the three of you quickly leave the canyon and the remains of the fight. Dusk had long settled the beating sun leaving only the cool night feeling nice on your sweaty skin. Out in the dunes camp had been set up the fire blazing on the open sands, your gaze taking in the embers floating into the air. You were used to this much sand and the heat hadn’t bothered you but it felt foreign now. You were somewhere maybe not in your same system anymore you hadn’t even been off your planet before. Your home was all you knew of and now you had people after you trying to kill you. A hiss of pain comes from the bounty hunter beside you trying to sear his wound up but unable to with the angle of the cut. You move closer trying to help when a blaster is pointed at you making you put your hands up.
“I was just trying to help.” You say slowly sitting back in your spot as he keeps his gaze training on you before slowly putting his weapon away and continuing to fix himself up.
“I don’t need your help.” He says and you roll your eyes turning away and looking at the small creature sitting on a pile of blankets from his carrier his round eyes watching the flames dance in front of him. “Hey.” The hunter calls out and you turn looking over at him in his hands bacta spray and bandages. You scoff looking away and wrapping your arms around your knees.
“Hey!” He calls out moving closer and you turn more away from him, “You need to get patched up or it’s going to get infected.” You look over your shoulder glaring at him.
“I don’t need your help.” You mock his own words back at him and you could feel the annoyance and anger coming through his helmet aimed at you. You let out a shriek when his hand wraps around your arm spinning you around to face him, his gloved hand grasping your jaw holding you in place when you try moving back, “Let me go.” You push against his chest but he doesn’t budge.
He glares at you and you could feel the cool gaze staring back at the metal helmet making your movements come to a stop. He nods before beginning to clean the cut on your cheek before moving to one of your temples. You hiss out in pain when he presses too hard on the wound putting the bacta spray on.
“Would’ve been worse if you didn’t dodge,” He comments when you glare at him in pain, he continues tending to the injury, “Where did you learn to fight like that.” The stoic voice asks finishing pulling back and you bring your hand up touching the bandaged cheek and temple.
“Tatooine,” You say picturing your home the dunes of sands, the shouts of Tuskan Raiders, the wind in your hair on the speeder bikes, and the dual suns that made the perfect sunsets on the best days. “You fight to survive when you don’t got much…I have..had a pretty good teacher back home.” You correct yourself, were you ever going to go home or was this bounty hunter just going to cart you off to whoever wanted you? He nods looking down at his chest plate to fix it. Silence fills the quiet night as you look forward poking at the fire to keep it alive before glancing at the Mandalorian before you speak up.
“I want to thank you…for everything,” You say and you see him pause in his fixing, “You could’ve killed me and the child but you didn’t. I’ve only heard stories about your kind so I don’t know if it’s a religious thing or you're just different.” You quiet feeling embarrassed saying all that but one thought had been plaguing your mind.
“Are you…are you going to bring us home? The child and I?” The mask of his hides his face and anything you would be able to tell, his body language didn’t reveal anything and you couldn’t see his emotions through the metal.
“Yeah, kid…you should try to get some sleep.” He responds, his words bringing hope to believe this stranger. Fixing the child in his carrier asleep for a while before settling against the cool sands the night sky and the stars looking down at you. Whispers of sleep and dreams lull you and the Mandalorian hears a brief mumble from you,
“My name’s Y/n.”
The morning soon arrived and you were up following the hunter to what you assumed was his ship. Walking over the ridge there was his ship but it was getting dismantled by Jawas, creatures you were familiar with on Tatooine. Their large sandcrawler beside the ship loading the scraps.
“Dammit,” The bounty hunter huffs pulling his rifle from his back and laying down on the ridge looking down on the ship and taking aim.
“Wait what are you doing?” Your words are cut off as a beam is sent out hitting one of the jawas disintegrating it. The death of one of its kind sends them into a frenzy trying to run back to the ship as he continues to take out more. He quickly stands sliding down the ridge chasing after them as you and the child follow after him.
“You’re not going to be able to chase after a sandcrawler!” You yell out as he runs after it not before shouting back at you,
“Stay there!” He orders before you freeze watching him disappear with the sandcrawler leaving the two of you by the ship. It had been a while and he hadn’t returned neither did the sandcrawler.
“Kriff come on!” You say setting off after the bounty hunter the child following after you. Following the tracks of the large fortress before you stumble open a body laying along the ground recognizing the Mandalorian helmet. “Oh, maker please don’t be dead.” You say hovering over him, you debate taking off his helmet to see if he was breathing or hand a pulse. Your hands reach for the edge of the helmet ready to pull it off when he shoots up the strong metal colliding with your face making you fall back clutching your nose.
“Kriff! Dammit, that kriffing hurts!” You blink away the tears putting light touches against your nose trying to feel if it was broken. His helmet had to be built with a strong metal cause that hurt a lot. The hunter sits up groaning from his own pain of being electrocuted and kicked off a sandcrawler, “You’re a real asshole, stupid bounty hunter, stupid helmet.” You ramble off pushing yourself to stand your nose throbbing in pain and your head ringing.
He groans pushing himself to stand, “If it’s not broken then you’re fine.” He slings his rifle over his shoulder his body sore as the three of you return to his ship. You and the child sit against some rocks watching the hunter taking in the damage to the ship, he returns from inside the ship and you give him a look. He ignores it and begins to walk back into the desert. Having no choice but to follow, you walked through the dunes and plains the sun beating down on you. How was he not sweating in that armor? Your travels had the sun setting behind you and in the distance, you could see a structure. Growing closer you see it’s a moisture farm and there was a man fixing something.
“This is supposed to fix your ship,” You comment and he doesn’t acknowledge you walking over to the man who looks surprised to see him. You quickly learn the man’s name to be Kuiil as he brought you into his home feeding you the sun had long set the night here.
The Mandalorian stands beside Kuiil the two watching the child watching a frog with much interest chasing after it.
“I thought you were dead.” Kuiil says to Mando as they both watched the child playing with the frog, “These are what was causing all the fuss?” The two look away from the child to the girl, you were leaned against a crate a knife in your hand twisting it in your grasp. You meet his gaze glaring at him making Kuiil laugh. Mando looks down at his boot seeing his blade gone. How did he not notice you took it?
“She certainly doesn’t like you,” Kuiil says and the bounty hunter is silent watching you before turning away.
“I think that one is a child.” He says the child grabs the frog that he was playing with. Kuiil nods looking at the two bounties, “It is better for them to be delivered alive then,”
The bounty hunter shakes his head the problem coming up, “My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here.” He had been close to his fight with the Jawas before they gained the upper hand
“Stripped. Not destroyed. The Jawas steal. They don’t destroy.” Kuiil explains and the bounty hunter scoffs,
“Stolen or destroyed- makes no difference to me.” He retorted, frowning remembering what those little cloaked freaks did to his ship, “They’re protected by their crawling fortress. There is no way to recover the parts.”
“You can trade,” Kuiil suggested and the hunter looks at him like he grew three heads.
“With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?”
The older man nods his idea final, “I will take you to them. I have spoken.” They hear fussing and the child is shoving the frog into his mouth to begin devouring.
“Hey! Spit that out,” Mando called out and the Child swallowed the frog whole making you gag as you watch the whole interaction. The night had been spent traveling you had gained a cloak to protect yourself from the rain and by the time it was the day you had arrived at the sandcrawler.
Kuiil climbs off his blurrg leaving the three of you to watch as he greets the Jawas in their language. He turns looking back at the three of you mainly at the bounty hunter, “They really don’t like you for some reason.”
“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them.” The hunter brings up and you could hear the angry noises coming from the cloaked people. His hand instinctively goes to his rifle as a fight almost brews. Kuiil holds out his arm giving a pointed look to the hunter, “You need to drop your rifle.”
“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion.” He refuses.
“Your religion is about to get us killed.” You hiss at the bounty hunter who glares back at you.
“Then you’re not getting your parts back.” Kuiil says giving the final ultimatum. The Mandalorian sighs putting his rifle down and climbing off the sled. “And the blaster.” He sighs removing that as well. You go to follow him when he points at you.
“Stay.” He says and your jaw drops, you weren't some animal, “And don’t touch my stuff you’re not doing that again,” The memory of him forcing you to return the blade is still fresh in your head. Maybe he should be more careful of his items. You roll your eyes sitting back down with the child watching the conversation.
Kuiil listens to the Jawa before turning to the Mandalorian, “They will trade all the parts for the beskar.” He shakes his head blowing up in anger pointing at them,
“I’m not gonna trade anything. These are my parts. They stole them from me.” He says “They, they….belong to me!” He speaks Jawa though it’s truly bad and you stifle your laughter.
“You speak terrible Jawa. You sound like a Wookiee.” One of the Jawa says and he loses his temper swiping his hand out with his flamethrower making them all yell out.
“You understand this?!” “No! Whoa, easy, easy.” Kuiil quickly diffused the fight before speaking to the Jawa, “He is Mandalorian. He cannot give you his beskar armor. What else may he trade?”
You hadn’t noticed some Jawas coming by the sled until they were inspecting the child’s carrier and poking you with their staff.
“Hey! Stop it get away.” You stand up shouting at them in Jawa alerting the bounty hunter who stands up.
“Get away from them!” He shouts and they scatter away from the two of you.
“There must be something else,” Kuiil says and the Jawas turn to discuss amongst themselves before turning around.
“We will require The Egg. Bring us The Egg.” It says and your hunter looks confused, “The Egg? What Egg?” You were confused as well as Kuiil groaned facepalming as the Jawas continue to chant.
The Jawas allow you all to travel by sandcrawler before you arrive at a series of rocky formations. The three of you minus Kuiil dismount and begin to walk through the rock formations toward an open clearing leading to a cave. “Shouldn’t I have a weapon in case you fail or something?” You bring up and he glares at you ignoring your request leaving you and the child to watch him venture inside the cave. It’s silent for a bit before a loud roar comes from the cave and out comes the Mandalorian and a large mudhorn. You watch him fire blast at the creature before reloading his weapon and the creature charges throwing him against the mud.
“Not doing so well!” You shout at him which draws the attention of the beast who charges at you and the child, “Crap!” You shout rolling out of the way mud covers your knees and arms as the child’s carrier dodges in the other direction. The mudhorn turns ready to charge again when flames unleash burning it. It tries retreating back to its den but he latches onto it with a grappling line around the horns. Shaking him aside attacking with said horns and hooves to the ground. It goes to stop down at him you rushing forward when the creature suspends in midair. A feeling you hadn’t felt in a while covers your skin as your hand whips around to look at the child its tiny hand held out. You hear the sound of the blade driving into flesh but your attention is focused on the small creature.
The Mandalorian slowly approaches the child seeing the look of slight fear on your face looking down at the child before it collapses in its cradle asleep. His gaze shifts to yours, your face seems plain but he could see the fear in your eyes that you were trying to hide. He turns walking back into the cave and returning with the egg. You had arrived back at the sandcrawler with the egg the Jawas rejoiced taking it and cutting it open devouring the insides.
“Mando!” Kuiil calls out to the bounty hunter.
“I’m surprised you waited?” Mando says and Kuiil nods looking at him,
“I’m surprised you took so long,” Kuiil says and the Jawas quickly prepare the sled with the parts of his ship. Then you were back off to the ship. You were sat in the back with the parts of the child’s carrier resting beside you as you look out on the horizon. You could hear their conversation but chose to ignore it, your mind more focused on what you had witnessed. You hadn’t imagined it you had truly seen it with your own eyes. That feeling that rushed over you had opened up something that had been locked up in fear. As you look down at this child you could feel a connection form.
The child was still asleep when you arrived at the dismantled ship, “There is no way we're gonna get this to work without a full maintenance facility. This is gonna take days to fix.” Mando says looking over the wrecked ship.
“If you care to help it might go faster. There is much work to do.” Kuiil says ready to begin the repairs. The night continues over you all as the two repairs the ship. Your head is deep in wires in the cockpit the fusion cutter grasp in your mouth as you moved cables around. Maker, this whole ship was a mess, did he purposely want a ship that was slow? As you go to move another wire, you feel hands grab your legs pulling out from the open panel and you look up to see Mando glaring down at you.
“Why are you touching my ship?” He growls out, were you tampering with it to make this harder for him? You scoff pushing him away from you and crawling back to the open panel.
You ramble off fixing the wiring but it would just be easier to get an entirely new ship. “More like fixing, like how could you allow it to get like this! Your hyperdrive is so outdated that makes you two times slower than most ships. Then there are the core processes and your sensor systems dying on you. Your better off selling this hunk of junk and getting something that’s not Pre-Galactic, hey!” His hands grab your legs again pulling you out of the panel but you were already done. He pulls you up to your feet pushing you down to a seat.
“Stop touching things,” He snatches the fusion cutter, “Just don’t even move.” He glares at you which you equally return. He steps back before turning his back from you and heading down out of the cockpit. You cross your arms settling in, maker what an asshole.
Mando sighs the last of the repairs are finished having repaired or fully restored the ship’s systems and parts. He turns looking down at Kuiil, “I can't thank you enough. Please allow me to give you a portion of the reward.” He says and the man shakes his head.
“I cannot accept. You are my guest, and I am therefore in your service.” He shakes his head and Mando nods looking at the ship,
“I could use a crew member of your ability. And I can pay handsomely.” He offers but Kuiil refuses.
“I am honored. But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude.” Kuiil says and Mando nods moving towards his ship as Kuiil mounts his blurrg. “I understand. Then all I can offer is my thanks.” Mando says.
“And I offer mine. Thank you for bringing peace to my valley and good luck with those two. May they survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.” Kuiil watches as the Mandalorian enters his ship sitting in the pilot's seat his two bounties beside him, the child was asleep in his cradle and you were leaning against the wall in your chair your eyes closed. He fires up the engines of the Razor Crest is roaring to life as he takes off leaving the planet behind.
To Nevarro.
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tennessoui · 4 months
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hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.
oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!
(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)
(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)
35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs
(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)
Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.
Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.
Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.
Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.
And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink. 
But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.
It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.
It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.
But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.
It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.
Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever. 
That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.
His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.
It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.
There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.
Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced. 
Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.
But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.
The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.
If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.
A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.
Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.
“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”
“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”
“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.
“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.
“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”
Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”
Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”
“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.
He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.
It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.
“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”
Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.
He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.
And Saak’s right, shit.
The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.
He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.
In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.
Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen. 
“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous. 
One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”
“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”
The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”
“You drugged him!” 
The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”
His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?
He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.
Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly. 
Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety. 
“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.
It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate. 
And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions. 
“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.
“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.
This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.
“Not a kid,” the kid says.
“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid. 
And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.
Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.
He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.
And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.
“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.
The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”
The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.
Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.
“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”
“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”
“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.
“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”
Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.
It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.
“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”
It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.
“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.
Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.
Why would the rebellion be any different?
When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.
He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.
The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.
And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.
Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.
It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.
But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi! 
It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.
The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.
It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate. 
Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.
Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand. 
Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.
He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.
He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways. 
But—Vader is asleep.
And no one would have to know.
If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.
He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands.  Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.
It is a sickly looking red.
It is not a blade of a Jedi.
Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.
And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.
The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.
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awritesthings1 · 11 months
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The Midas Effect (Part 1)
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Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader
Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?
Word Count: 2.5k+
Note: This is a oneshot, but consists of 2 parts.
AO3 link
Next part
-
When the sun begins to ache, and the birds catch the last worm, darkness floods the land. Vermin scurry through sodden trenches, squealing in delight at a moldy pastry found next to an unearthed tree. They come in the night, like shadows chasing you down the hallway. Your father called them the Dark Ones; vicious spirits starved of the violence they craved.
You never imagined they would come like this. As a child, your father reassured you they were nothing more than monsters that lived under your bed. Of course, he wrapped an arm around your trembling shoulders while tears rushed down both cheeks. He laughed a moment later when you told him you had seen a shadow under your bed the other night. You were too small to understand.
Growing up with the epitome of luxury, monsters living under your bed was your biggest worry. With a palace cherished by those before you, and love built into the walls, it was easy to forget how lucky you were. Your father was never King to you like he was to everyone else. He was the man who checked under your bed for monsters, and said yes when your mother said no.
Now, your old life is ashes in a pile of rubble.
Because the monsters didn’t live under your bed, they lived in Imperial bases.
“Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”
A gentle hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.
“No thank you.” Your nose scrunches at the noise of the bubbling pot. It was too loud. What if the Dark Ones heard and were making their way up the mountain at this moment?
Vee, your maiden, knew you like the back of her hand. When you were born, she tied herself to your wrist for better or for worst. In her own right, she became your mum while your parents were busy doing whatever ruling a country meant. But with that came the inability to lie or hide things. “They won’t find us up here, now come have some tea.”
You pick at the dirt under your nails, considering her words before reluctantly grabbing the ceramic mug being shoved into your hand. The older woman sits next to you by the fireplace. Silence thins over the cackling flame, fanning away the curious insects.
You watch a spider spin a web in the corner of the miniature brick house. Luckily, a rural traditionalist farmer had found you and Vee picking at his crops and offered you some shelter for the next few days. You doubt he would have offered otherwise if you weren’t the next heir to the crown. Most traditionalists preferred to stick to themselves, living off the land the same way ancient civilizations would have.
A thunderous attack on the western front claps across the mountainside, rocking the earth beneath your feet. You are careful to clutch at the stone tiles as your drink spills into the cracks. Dirt gathers in your hair, no doubt sprinkling into the tea boiling over the fire.
That was how most of your nights started now.  
From the corner of your eye, Vee speaks up. “We can’t stay here forever. The war is getting closer.” 
You stiffen at her words, tucking your knees into your chest. “No, I cannot leave my people to fend for themselves… This is their home.” The last word bites into your flesh. You shift away from her embrace, feeling the heat of the fire burn closer to your skin. You accidentally inhale a deep breath of smoke, bursting out into a coughing fit.   
“I know, this was my home too,” Vee begins, soothing her hand down your back. “But I want to leave. My husband is waiting for me on Alderaan, and you are the only person keeping me from him.” When your coughing settles, you look to her and see tears brimming her eyes. She reaches for your hand. “Please, don’t make me stay.” 
The thorns in the palace gardens never stung as much as this. You wish you could wrap a bandage around this just as easily. But this was bigger than you, and who were you to subject her to this when she only stayed out of loyalty to your parents. 
“One more night,” you promise.
Her braid swings from her shoulder as she reaches to wrap a ratty blanket across your lap while simultaneously pulling you into a tight hug. “One more night,” she agrees, “but we leave Caridaan this time.” 
Despite not wanting to admit it, she was right. After spending months living back-to-back in freezing mountainous terrain, biding time was fruitless. Sitting around had only made you pity yourself.  
You nod your head. “First thing tomorrow,” you agree, “arrange a ship to Alderaan.” 
The woman squeals in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. The rags drag against your skin at the contact, briefly making you flinch. You certainly won’t miss wearing whatever Vee hastily stitched together once your old clothes became unmendable. A warm dip in the refresher wouldn’t hurt either.  
As the woman settles by the fire and huddles her body from the elements, you wait until her chest lulls into the familiar rhythm of sleep. Rising from your spot, you drape the blanket over her shoulders, pulling it to cover the rest of her body. Quietly, you step outside. 
The horizon is buried under countless layers of clouds and midnight shadows. But on the cliffside, a chill of frigid air ghosts past your neck, triggering a flare of goosebumps down your arms. Golden streaks light up the night sky, but it’s not beautiful or mesmerizing. It’s disgusting and twists your stomach in a way worse than hunger. Because each light is a life being snuffed out. Fires, bombs, and weapons lay siege to little villages and peaceful communities, all in efforts to take the Capital. 
To take your throne. 
And while you may not live up to the name of your father, or be anywhere near powerful enough to stop the attack on your planet, you just may know one person who might.
-
Outside your window, a ghastly storm howled across Caridaan. Not that you had noticed, of course, because you were too occupied preparing your hair for bed. Dressed in your silk nightgown, you pinned it back carefully until the movement of your door drew you away.
The gentle steps of your mother rounds the corner. Your shoulders drop at the sight of her. Vee is by her side, nervously picking at her nails.
“Your father couldn’t come to wish you a good night, so I am here.”
You recognise the wavering tone in your mother’s voice when she speaks. Her eyes linger on the floor as she purses her lips, swallowing a shaky breath. The hairs on your arm raise.
Your mother was never an emotional person.  
“What happened?” You question, peaking a glance at Vee who looks equally as disturbed as your mother.
“Nothing, my dear.” Her voice cuts off, supressing a sob.
The tension in the room pulls taut.
Your mother attempts to blink away tears before reaching for a tissue on your vanity. “…It’s just that…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, scrunching the tissue into her palm and bursting into tears. You rush over to hug her without question. She trembles into your arms, gripping the back of your nightgown like a vice. “It’s your father.”
You suck in a breath at her words, the scent of a distinguished candle lingers.  
“He’s dead.”
-
A sudden jerk of the ship throws you headfirst into the wall.
“Maker! Are you hurt?” Vee cries out from her seat in the cockpit while squeezing the armrests to death.
Her voice is lost to a flood of alarms and a grunting engine. You crumble to the ground, clutching your throbbing head with a groan.
“Hold on! We’ve been hit!” Cries the Alderaan pilot, dipping the ship into a nose dive.
Your soul leaves your body as you are flung into the ceiling of the ship faster than you can blink.
“They’ve circled us!”
“Well? Do something!”
Desperately, you clutch at anything to ease your descent when the ship levels out. Fighting through the splitting pain in your head, you cling to a pipe heaving frantically for a break. When the ship levels, you drop down only to spit out the mouthful of blood and hair in your mouth. Without wasting a moment, you scramble to lock yourself into the closest seat.
Explosions continue to shake the ship, spinning your thoughts around.
“M’good” you mumble incoherently to no one in particular.
A series of coughs explode out your lungs, when a gush of freezing air pricks at your skin.
“Emergency hatch is open!” The pilot yells while flipping a few switches and pressing a big red angry button.
Vee’s hand reaches over her armrest to squeeze your hand. Tears are pooling down her cheeks.
Was this how you die?
The moon glares from behind Vee’s head, blinding you momentarily before a dark figure crosses your vision. Biting back the pain, you glare at the silhouette, desperately trying to work out if you were seeing things.
The Alderaan pilot struggles for what only could be seconds before a bright red light slashes at something before disappearing into the dark. You hear the pilot plead before they are carelessly shoved away from the console. You turn to Vee to gauge if you were imagining things, but she appears to be transfixed at the same sight.
“Hold on!” The dark figure commands.
You don’t think to question it as both you and Vee let go of each other’s hands to clutch the armrests.
Within a matter of moments, you feel the ship pull towards the ground. Your heart is thumping loud enough for the cockpit to hear. Fire catches at the descent of the ship, illuminating the cockpit with flaming gold light. Blood rushes to your head, consuming your vision in vivid white. Despite your grip, you begin losing sensation in your fingers. Fighting to stay conscious, a fierce scream rips from your lungs before the weight of your body disappears.
This is death. This has to be death. Your head was no longer in pain, and the feeling in your fingers had returned. You feel cold drops pelt your back as you hunch over on something sodden and gasp for air. You violently cough up your lungs, as your eyes adjust to your surroundings.
A rush of adrenaline laces through your veins.
Pulled straight from the pages of a horror story, the palace you once called home sits quietly up the hill.
Shivers wrack your body. You were dreaming, you had to be. But the violent pelting of rain soaking the ground beneath your knees says otherwise. You unwind your fists from the sodden grass, clutching your muddy clothes in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, you recognise it to be the slip you use to wear to bed. You pull at them, expecting your fingers to slip through the fabric like they would in a dream but the silk brushes against your skin the same way it always did.
Your blood runs cold. This was impossible. The palace burned down in the invasion.
“You know you shouldn’t be out here this late.”
You jolt, twisting around to see the Jedi Knight that guarded you in the months following your father’s death. Rushing to stand, your back is as stiff as a board while you watch him incredulously. Mud squelches under his boots when he moves to wrap his robe around your shoulders. He appears to be unbothered by the rain, instead squeezing your shoulders to give you a gentle nudge towards the palace. Your feet refuse to move.
“Anakin?” The disbelief in your voice is evident. “What’s happening?”
Anakin’s curls are plastered to his face as he squints through the rain to meet your eyes. His mouth hangs slightly agape, blinking at you sceptically for a moment before exhaling with an amused smirk. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you would pull something like this just to get my attention, princess, but I’m flattered,” Anakin remarks, stepping over you to sling his Jedi robe across your quivering shoulders.
Your nose fills as tears build in your eyes. Frustration, anger, fear and relief battle for your next words. “I’m scared,” you decide without much thought. The tears and exhaustion slip into your voice as you snuggle into the warmth of his robe.
The smile on the Jedi’s face falls, immediately gathering you up into his arms. Your nose presses into the nape of his already soaked neck, gasping for air between each sob. Anakin doesn’t mind though, letting you shift your weight into his body. The rain continues to pour down, plastering your now translucent nightgown to your skin. Ever the gentleman, his gaze shifts to the sky, blinking away the rain drops falling into his eyes. Your cries sink his heart but he knows that if you two were to stay out here any longer, you would surely catch a cold. Carefully, he maneuvers your arms around his waist then bends to cradle the back of your thighs and carry you through the mud to the palace.
You are too immersed in gripping the back of his shirt and crying into his shoulder to care. Maybe you were dead and this was the afterlife. But what about Vee? And your people? Had you left them all to die?
Your wet feet slap onto the stone tile as Anakin sets you down. “Am I dead?” You hiccup.
Anakin’s head shakes. “No, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
You sniff, nodding gently while you take in the appearance of the room connected to the back entrance. It looked the same way you had left it before the fire. The candles were all snuffed out except for the one Anakin had lit and held to see your face through the dark. Even the boots of the servants looked hastily tucked beneath the table.
“Go change into something warm,” Anakin’s spare hand cups your cheek to draw your attention back to him, “I’ll have some hot tea ready.” His thumb wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your skin. You forget to breathe at the touch of his real hand. It’s short-lived though as he retreats through a door into the servants kitchen.
You are left in the dark, partly expecting to wake up any second. For a moment, you think you might be slipping away then realise it is only a draft from a window a servant must have forgotten to close. Reluctantly, you step closer, shutting the window quietly. You consider going to your room to change, but you know you can’t face crossing the threshold and reliving all those memories. So, you settle for one of the spare servant attire draped over a hook before meeting Anakin in the kitchen.
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veras1ne · 10 months
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“Take a Break.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: So wrapped up in his work, Anakin can’t but bare to be away from his beloved holopad, that is though, until you simply INSIST he must take a break. A 5 minute shower turned rogue might just do the trick.
🫧Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader
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: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: This is your warning for the following: NSFW content, PIV, mild degrading, pretty vanilla compared to some other works.
HI DOVES!! I just wanted to say again thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the love and reblogs, follows and hearts I’ve been getting I appreciate it more than you even know <3
Also yes… this is the ipad kid Anakin fic
Remember my inbox is open to suggestions, requests, comments or nonsense! Love you guys (Also I hope atleast one of you got my Hamilton reference with the title lol.)
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Anakin was a busy man.
Being a Jedi in itself was hard work, but being on the council was another, meaning that you began to see your beloved partner less and less as the minutes turned into hours and days turned into nights. One thing that remained, though, was that when he did get a moment to himself, those sweet times were spent trying to convince him to take a break, just for himself, and relax. More often than not, he would ignore your discretions and bury himself in one of your many holopads and screens, consuming media on the holonet as if there was no tomorrow, mostly to see if he had any important updates or tasks he had to keep up with.
That’s the situation you've currently found yourself in. His attention was on one of the many news outlets he had loved to read, while you sat on the opposite-facing sofa, watching his eyes get lost within the words. "Ani, you’ve been reading that dastardly thing for hours now; take a break, please. You know you need it; You’ve got eyebags, and before you know it, you’ll start to get wrinkles with how much you frown at your screen." You teased him, but truly, you meant what you said.
He appeared before you restless and paranoid, and yet he still insisted that he was fine. "That’s nonsense. All these news outlets on the holo-net just don’t know what they’re talking about. They’re making the Jedi Order look like fools." He huffed out, getting up from his seat to grab a drink, not once looking up from his screen. "Just take a quick break, please? I promise your holopad isn’t going anywhere; just a quick 5-minute shower to get your muscles relaxed and all this dirt out of your hair, and you look like you rolled around in a bantha-sty." Your voice echoed out, following a deep sigh coming from Anakin. "5 Minutes. And no face masks this time; the last time you told me to take a break, you put a mask on me and made me look like Master Luminara." That earned a laugh from both of you.
You smiled at him, turning his attention from his holofeed. "Fine, 5 minutes, and then you can go back to your beloved holopad." He grinned, placing his cup down on the table before he made his way over to where you sat. "Let’s go before I change my mind." He looked down at you; his eyes changed from concerned and tired to playful yet serious.
You knew he always took his work seriously, especially since he was eager to earn his rank as master, which he ranted to you about several times earlier that day. Regardless, though, you still valued his time away from it and knew that it was important for him to rest and relax, even if he refused. His hand rested on the small of your back as he helped you off the sofa, guiding you towards the bathroom across the room. Before shutting the door behind you and locking it, you glanced at him over your shoulder. "I’ll start the water; you go on and get out of those clothes; maker knows I need to do laundry anyways." You told him, knowing that he’d start to get antsy with you if this process took too long.
He sighed, turning away from you and starting to undress himself. The only sounds that followed were the faucet running and his grunting every time his belt got stuck because he was trying to act with haste, which turned out to be his enemy in this case. "Anakin Skywalker, if you don’t stop worrying and just take your time, I’m serious. You need to relax, honey. The planet doesn’t revolve around what people perceive you or the order as on the holo-net." You snapped at him, taking him aback and making him furrow his eyebrows.
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No words were exchanged as you stripped yourself of your own clothing, taking back the glass door of your shower and stepping in as he followed suit. The water felt wonderful on your skin after such a stressful, yet quite frankly, boring week, and soon the steam surrounding you and his warm breath hit you in waves, soothing your tired body.He stood behind you, letting his fingers trail along the curve of your waist. "Maybe you’re right. I could use a little relaxation." He smirked at you, dipping his fingers below your navel and slowly making his way towards your core, pressing them against it.
The sensation sent tingles up your spine; you couldn’t help but lean into him, a moan escaping your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. A light kiss trailed across your neck, sending goosebumps over your skin, and he chuckled darkly, "You’re so beautiful, you know that?" He whispered, his voice low and husky. You hummed in response, leaning further into him. "I love you." He added, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer to him. "Ani, not now. This is about you, baby." You withdrew from him, only getting scolded in return. "Yes, now. There’s never been a better time, Angel." He pulls you into a passionate embrace, pushing you into the wall, and kisses you deeply and passionately.
Your fingers tangled themselves in his curls, causing him to groan lowly into your mouth, and you moaned into his lips, pushing yourself closer to him. "Oh fuck. I need you so badly, Ani." You breathed out, attempting to ignore how close his hands were to your dripping core. He pulled away slightly and said, "I know, baby. We’ve barely even gotten started, and you’re already so wet. It’s disgusting how hungry you are for my dick." He asked in mock disapproval, and you whined in response, leaning into him again. "What happened to relaxing, dove? Isn’t this what you wanted?" You nodded furiously, biting your lip in anticipation. "This is all you wanted, huh? Acting like a slut to get me all alone and fuck me." He pushed you harder against the wall, grinding his cock against your cunt. You moaned, arching your back into him as you ran your fingers through his curly locks. "Anakin, oh my maker, yes." You practically begged him, his name rolling off your tongue so smoothly that it almost sounded like a song. "Please." You whimpered out, "Give me all of you." He kissed your collarbone, nipping and sucking on it as he pressed himself further into your opening, squeezing your hips as he slid himself inside of you.
The tight fit of his cock gave you a sensation that was pure and unadulterated. "Oh, Ani!" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his waist. He continued to thrust in and out of you, hitting every spot on your body that caused you to tighten around him. "This pussy belongs to me. I’m the only one who will ever get to see her like this." He growled at you, rubbing your clitoral area as he pulsed inside of you. You moaned once more, clenching your teeth together. "Oh, fuck me." He grunted, continuing to pound against your core, and his pace quickened.
Soon enough, you were coughing hard, tears falling freely from your eyes from his relentless pounding as he quickly came inside you. He continued to hold you tighter until you stopped shaking, taking a moment to hold you as he slipped out from inside you. "I love you so much, Ani." You mumbled, burying your head in his chest and warming up in opposition to the now-cold water. His arms wrapped around you tightly, resting his chin atop your head. "I love you more, dove. Thank you for making me take this break with you." He replied softly, pressing kisses all over your head and smiling at you. "Next time, listen to me before I have to beg you to stop being a holopad youngling." You joked with him, grabbing the bottle of soap to wash the grime and, quite frankly, the disgusting fluids that your body now had attached to it. "I promise to spend more time away from work, just for you," he smiled before carrying on.
"And by the way, that was way more than five minutes."
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Text
Special Interest 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader
Part of the Bookstore AU
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
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You find a seat at the cafe with your vanilla chai latte. You place the paper bag with the wire handles on the table and pull out your phone. You love this cafe, it’s like a little home away from home. A much-needed escape from your parents.
You love your mom and dad but they can be a bit much. You’re barely into your twenties and they’re already talking about big things. Like a husband and grandbabies. Hullo, you’re a young entrepreneur, you’ve got a business to run.
Your mother’s text greets you. She wants to know when you’ll be home. You hate to leave her on read so you send ‘dunno’ and flick away the chat. A few items sold! Score. You put some stuff on clearance and knocked a few bucks off. May as well just get rid of it.
As you reach for your tea, you sense something. Like a shift in the earth. There’s a disturbance in the force. Be calm, Jedi.
You peek up over your phone and meet two sparkling eyes. Oh clam shells, it can’t be. It’s that guy from the bookstore. Again! Charles? You can’t remember, you want to forget as quickly as you can. 
You slide the bag in front of you and slouch down, trying to hide behind it. Too late. He’s coming closer. He looks down at you as you try to ignore him, thumbing through old emails to look busy.
He sits one table away. Nice. Very subtle. Or maybe you’re being paranoid. Either way, this coincidence seems less than serendipitous.
You do your best to form a bubble around yourself. You take out the book you bought and flip through the patterns. Those sunflowers are adorable. You could do one for your mom. Oh, what about little bees to go with the flowers? 
There’s a scuff on the ground but you don’t look over. You lower the book slightly, pretending to read the description of tulip as you peek from the corner of your eye. This guy is the definition of manspreading. You shouldn’t care so much but you can see his boot as he has his knees open like a Madonna music video.
You raise your eyebrows as you argue with yourself. You should just go home. Your mom will be happy to see you. Well, happy to have help with dinner. The biggest reason, you’ll be less annoyed.
You sigh and tuck your phone into your purse. You get up and pull on your jacket,sliding the books back in the bag as you swipe up your latte. You sidle around the table and that man clears his throat. Keep your eyes on the prize; escape.
Even if you’re overthinking it, he’s ruined your day. He tainted the haven of the bookstore then infested the cafe. You sip your drink as you pass by the windows of the cafe, refusing to look inside. You hear the door as you brush by the next facade, a hobby shop with dice and cards. Still, you keep your sights ahead of you.
You reach into your pocket and close your hand around your earbud case. You hear footsteps, some ways back, but near enough to track. He wouldn’t follow you… You think better of putting them in and pull out your phone instead, holding it out before you as you pretend to check a notification.
You swipe your thumb up and drag the camera open. You try to angle it so you can see over your shoulder through the front lens. Whoever it is, you can’t see them without being too obvious. Damn.
You drop your phone and black the screen. You move to the other side of the sidewalk as you come to fourway light. You turn, hands in your pocket, and stare at the light across from you, waiting for it to change. Casually, you take the opportunity to glance to your side. You see a blur disappear into the insurance broker but nothing else.
Maybe you are getting in your head.
🧶
You get a strange request on your Etsy. Several purchases with a message from the buyer. You check as you sit in the kitchen, laptop open as you try to wake up. Your mother grumbles as she cradles her own mug and mulls over the day ahead of her. She works from home too but she doesn’t consider your work a real job.
You lean your chin in your hand and squint. You’re stomach squirms as you make sure you understand the message. You feel a shadow looming above the screen and you look up at your mother as she gives you a goofy face.
“Doing calculus?” She teases as you sit back and rub the tension from your forehead.
“N-no, I just… I got a big order but the customer wants to do a pick-up,” you grab your coffee and take a sip, hoping to find sanity somewhere in the brew.
“A pick-up. Here?”
“Well, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t get it, they paid the shipping.”
“Maybe they want the money back.”
“They didn’t mention it but yeah,” you stare at their name.
Most people have their first and last displayed but this one is just Farmer’s Delight. They said they're local but live out in the country so the mail often gets lost. How odd. Sounds like a boomer.
“I mean, you could do a public meetup? Customer is always right.”
“Mom, this isn’t the 90s anymore. The customer is wrong,” you huff. 
“How big is the order?” She wonders, “I mean, your little crafts are so cute but it can’t be that much work.”
“That’s not the issue,” you sniff and take another deep gulp. You go back to their order and teethe your lip. “It’s over three hundred dollars.”
“Holy moly,” your mother gasps, “little crafts my tush!”
“Mom,” you warn her, “I’ll just tell them delivery is the only option.”
Your mother is quiet. She slurps her coffee, bringing your ire to dart at her over the top of your screen. You hate that noise.
“I’ll go with you, honey,” she offers, “how about… you can meet at a Starbucks or something? That’s what they say these days, meet in public.”
“Is that what they say? And who are you trying to meet up with?”
“No one… I’m in this trade and sell group for Royal Doulton figures and the ladies there, I would only meet them with mace in my purse.”
You chortle. Your mom can be silly even when she’s nagging you. You’re just happy it’s not her usual spiel.
“Who knows, hon, this could be your meet-cute,” she spoils your moment of gratitude. You sigh and roll your eyes.
“You don’t even know if it’s a guy.”
“Ugh, okay, crush my dreams,” she pouts, “I’m just saying… sounds like a big spender.”
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setaphil-edits · 1 year
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Star Wars Jedi: Survivor
jedi business, go back to your drinks.
just posting some Cal thirst trap photos. im debating if i should post the others too...
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ladystoneboobs · 7 months
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i present: small and non-verbal but very funny star wars moments:
ep. V: the empire strikes back--the millenium falcon achieves hyperspeed again, despite the imperials' best plans to the contrary. admiral piett and his men are terrified of vader's reaction, all trying to stay out of his path. but he's still too busy brooding on his loss of luke to even force-choke anyone. that's how thrown off he was by his newly-mutilated son running away from him!
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the sole exception to this collective terror being this guy, so intent on his own important work, that he doesn't even notice his scary boss until darth vader has walked right past him.
ep. III: revenge of the sith--padme's droids somehow getting her unconscious body back on her ship.
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in the novelisation, r2-d2 just drags her up the ramp with his gadgetry, but in the script it's c-3po who carried her up bridal style. which would be impossible to film when 3po could barely manage to move around under his own weight. what makes it really funny for me is that there was no need for any of this. why not just have obi-wan pick her up as he's hurrying outta there after failing to kill her husband? i mean, it's surely not good to be lying out in the open on a volcanic world with poisonous gases, but it wouldn't be good for obi-wan running around out there either, and this lady was about to have broken heart as her only known cause of death. when has science ever held back star wars? and i can't imagine that being dragged by wires from artoo or dropped every few steps by threepio could've been too good for her body either. just makes for an absurd little (offscreen) background detail amid the tragedy of the end of padme's life, imho.
ep. IV: a new hope--obi-wan vanishing into thin air when struck down and vader's (very understandable) bafflement afterward.
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by this point in the second screencap, luke is shooting at him in retaliation and the stormtroopers are all shooting back at luke, but anakin is still dealing with this unprecendented vanishing and busy searching for any corporeal remains of obi-wan kenobi with his boot. "where did you go, my old master? how could this happen? i wasn't done fighting with you yet."
ep. V: the empire strikes back--vader inviting lando calrissian, chewbacca, han solo, and princess leia to share a meal with him and boba fett, before taking chewie, han, and leia prisoner and torturing han.
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i think a lot of people must assume there was no actual meal, but it's not like vader had to go to all that trouble in the first place of setting out an entire banquet table with proper containers and utensils. just because that was lando's pretext to bring them to vader does not necessitate actually having a table set. darth vader could have had them led into any other room with boba fett and stormtroopers waiting to just arrest them right away. instead, as we can see in the second screencap, (over lando's shoulder and leia's bun), vader did sit down at the head of the table, waiting for his prey to join him. and i swear, in one of the earlier drafts of empire's screenplay there is actually a scene showing their awkward meal together. or rather, han and leia being served food and drinks while darth vader just sits there, watching evilly, explaining his great villainous plan to use them to trap luke. it's like dr. evil making austin and vanessa sit down at his table in the first austin powers movie. darth vader really did always live for drama
ep. VI: return of the jedi--leia telling han that she loves luke, but not that way. he's her brother, silly! as if this is something they all knew all along, with zero follow-up explanation. you can just see han wordlessly processing this bombshell of brand new information through his facial expressions alone. (this lasts so long that i wouldn't even count it were it not likely overshadowed by everything else in the ending of rotj.)
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wh-what did you say? your brother? since when?
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wait-wait-wait. i've seen you mouth kissing luke right in front of me before. i'm so confused now.
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just what kind of weirdo family have i gotten myself mixed up with here?
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oh, well, she's only kissing me now. that's good enough, i guess. maybe?
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hey, as long as you do love me and luke in different ways ...
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i don't know much about families, but i've heard they all have their weird traditions. so who am i to judge you, babe? as long as we're together now, that's all that matters.
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vgilantee · 2 months
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ok i’m obsessed with obi wan and blow jobs now-
god imagine him and you being out one night, the streets of coruscant are busy and you two had a few drinks.
while roaming the busy streets you suddenly pull obi wan into an alleyway where it’s quiet, a duru cook went back into the shabby restaurant after his small spice break and now you’re pushing obi wan against a wall.
he grunts and gives you a confused look as you kiss him, kiss down his body through his robes and undo his pants. his hands are in your hair and he breaths heavily.
“Cyar’ika… what are you… ah…” he grunts and you put him as far as you can in your mouth, stroking the rest of him since he’s so large with your hand.
one of his hands holds onto the wall behind him and his other guides your head / rests in your hair (whatever you like)
“Ahh… kriff… your mouth is so perfect…” he’d pull you off his cock and turn you around so you’d be facing the wall and suddenly he has your pants yanked down and he’d bury his cock inside your wet cunt, holding onto your perfect ass.
“Cyare… Your pussy is kriffing perfect you know that?” Obi Wan would grunt and fuck you quick and hard, making you cum in such a satisfying yet unsatisfying way that you end up fucking in the temple later. 🤭
ive had this sitting in my inbox for a couple of days because every time i open it up i read it and blqck out thinking about giving obi-wan head.
jedi robes are actually so that they can fuck in alleyways and not be seen. i asked yoda he told me this was true alksifjpalsjfha
as much as obi loves your mouth and throat, you played with fire so you're going to be fucked stupid against the wall. no sense in making a mess and wasting his cum...
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geekywritings · 1 year
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Drunken revelations
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And another anonymous request finished because I was inspired :D If you have promts, quotes or something for Cal x reader shorts, send them over :D
Request: “Cal Kestis x drunk reader??? Fluffy and comfort maybe he finds out about something from her past cause she’s drunk and doesn’t register she’s saying it?”
I think I might have gone a little dramatic here, but fluff is always included ;)
________You didn’t often consume alcohol. And it showed.
You were sitting in Pyloon‘s Saloon with Bode, waiting for Cal to return from a little security round he liked to make around the place before the end of the day. The last thing you needed was the Empire finding your safe haven. Or more Bedlam Raiders causing trouble. Sometimes, you would accompany the Jedi on his patrols, but this evening you had helped out Greeze in the kitchen before being invited to join your other companion.
Bode was nice and always had exciting stories to tell. This evening, however, he was pensive and in clear need of someone to lend him an ear. He had spoken a lot about Kata, his daughter, revealing how much he missed her and how he regretted not being able to spend more time with her. This fatherly side was what warmed you to the man, as not many were as engaged as him.
During his little monologue, he had kept ordering drinks for the two of you, and out of solidarity, you had downed one glass after another with him. At first, you hadn’t felt anything, but after the third round, your head started to grow fuzzy.
Cal returned after the fourth, his face betraying a mixture of surprise, amusement and a little worry. He had never seen you in such a state.
“Cal… You’re back.”, you spoke, noticing that the control over your voice was slipping. “Was it fun?”
“Fun?”, he asked with a chuckle. “No. But at least it’s quiet.” He took a seat next to you, ordering something for himself as he joined your conversation for a while. Eventually, Bode said his goodbyes, wanting to record another story for Kata.
“He is such a good dad.”, you said, as the two of you watched the dark-haired man disappear through the door. Cal was about to agree when you tacked on a remark that had him raise his brows instead. “I am jealous of Kata.”
You were staring into your half-empty glass now, a longing expression on your face.
Cal cocked his head toward you, trying to get you to look at him and explain. Although the two of you had been dating for a few weeks now, after a rather surprising confession on the battlefield when you thought you were about to die, he knew nothing about your past. For good reason.
But you couldn’t keep it hidden forever either… and the alcohol was clearly loosening your tongue.
“I wish my dad had cared that much.”, you spoke, your eyes finally meeting Cal’s. A hand on your shoulder invited you to continue.
“He was too busy with his career. He had big plans… My mother and I… we just had to wait. Day after day after day. For a visit. For a message even. Sometimes we heard nothing for weeks until suddenly we were called to attend some event with him. He paraded us around and then forgot we existed again for weeks.” You were bitter and it showed.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”, Cal spoke softly, trying to be encouraging without knowing what to say. He couldn’t relate. He didn’t even know his parents.
“He did get his wish… he got that promotion… that position he had lusted after. And it made me hate him even more.”, you took another sip, even though you clearly had more than enough already. Cal knew that too and subtly pulled the glass away from you once you had placed it back down.
“You should hate me…”
The sudden change of topic startled the Jedi and he found himself blinking in surprise before scooting closer. A finger under your chin brought your face back in line with his after you had turned away. “Do you know what you are saying, Y/N?”
“I do… You should hate me. For who I am. For who my father is.”
“You are drunk. I’m taking you to bed.”, Cal decided, sliding from the bar stool, ready to pick you up, but your following words had him stalling for a moment.
“Tarkin… My real name is Y/N Tarkin.”
Cal’s hands stopped inches from you, as he just stared. He knew that name. The man was part of the top command chain of the Empire after all. Responsible for endless suffering across the Galaxy. And you were supposed to be his daughter? How?
He had met you as part of the rebellion. You were fighting the Empire with as much ferocity as he was.
“That’s not who you are as a person, though.”, he started slowly, allowing his initial feelings to settle.
“How do you know?”
“Because I see you, Y/N. I see what you do to fight him. I see how much you care about the people. I see how much you love me, even though we should be enemies if you truly were his daughter through and through.”
How could he say these things so easily? How could he trust you so much?
Because he loved you, your muddied brain slurred.
“You know what Merrin taught me? Where you come from doesn’t have to define you. You choose your own path in life… and you have clearly chosen yours.”
Tears were brimming in your eyes and you tried to move in for an embrace… just to almost lose your balance on the bar stool and hug the floor instead. Cal’s arms caught you just in time.
“I think I’m drunk…”, you whispered and despite the heavy topic a few seconds ago, Cal couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“You very much are.”, he agreed. “Come, I’ll bring you to bed.”
“Your bed?”
“Ours.”And with that he hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders, picking you up with ease.
“I like that…”, you mumbled, head resting against his chest as he carried you downstairs to the room Greeze had prepared for him. The room he now shared with you.
“What do you mean?”
“This… All of this… You.”
He gave you a gentle smile, before leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Any other dark secrets you want to get off your chest?”, he asked, finally placing you down on the bed.
“Just one…”
Your eyes were feeling so heavy all of a sudden, the softness of the bed beckoning you to sleep.
“If I ever have kids… I want you to be their dad…” And with that revelation you drifted off, leaving Cal dumbfounded yet absolutely happy.
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carolinetano7567 · 1 year
Text
A Rex x female Jedi General reader :3
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Warnings: None. Word count: 2,497 (sorry y’all)
“C’mon, General, you could use the fun! What’s one night at 79’s gonna do to you?” Fives pleaded as he threw his arms out. “Yeah,” Jesse agreed, grinning slightly. “This is just the thing we need.” You sighed heavily. You were sore, and tired. You had just come back from a traumatic battle on Felucia, and you had lost many good men in the 501st. Quite honestly, you wanted to go hide in your room and be left alone for weeks to mourn them. 
“I don’t know, boys.” You rested your hands on your hips and looked up into the bustling skies of Coruscant in the fading daylight. You had managed to escape from the confrontation of the Temple to a solitary platform that Captain Rex had showed you long ago. You had spent many long hours conversing with the Captain up here. It was like a safe haven for the two of you. The sounds of the traffic were less clamorous up here. It was just you, and a small square of sky amidst cloud-piercing buildings. 
“I…I think I ought to just stay here.” You mumbled. You still felt as if a great weight was upon your shoulders. Fives furrowed his brow and took a few steps closer to you. 
“I know where you’re at, General. I’ve been there, myself.” The ARC Trooper let out a bitter chuckle. “But believe me when I say…” He searched your eyes for a sign of approval. “A couple of drinks with merry company is just what you need.” He finished, and gave a lopsided grin; one that had become quite familiar to you in recent months. 
“And!” Jesse added, a glint of good humor twinkling in his eye. “The Captain will be there.” He wiggled his eyebrows as he did when he teased you about Captain Rex. Your heart did a slight flutter at the sound of his name, but you kept your face stoic. 
“I see.” You nodded nonchalantly. You knew better. Rex had been fighting side-by-side with you…you knew the last thing he wanted was to party with his drunk brothers. 
“Rex never goes to 79’s. He’s too consumed by his business and that of General Skywalker. You’re pulling my leg.” You shook your head and gave a slight laugh. 
“Well…uh—” Five’s hand sought the back of his head and scratched it. “Jess and I may or may not have convinced him to come by saying you’d be there.” He flushed, and laughed nervously. 
“Insubordination!” You yelped, and sent a playful punch to his shoulder. “Why the kriff would you do that to me?!” You rolled your eyes and huffed, unable to contain a small smile. 
“Pleaaase, General y/n?” Jesse pouted. You knew he was milking it…and it was working. Fives peered at you through his amber eyes, begging you to join them. 
“ALL RIGHT!” You cried, exasperated. You threw your hands in the air. “I’LL COME.” 
Jesse and Fives hooted and cheered. “But you…Mr. Matchmaker,” You said, jabbing a finger at Fives. “Are paying.” 
Fives snickered, and nodded. “I expected nothing less, General. Come on. Mine and Jess’s Speeders are over here. Now you get the joy of choosing which of us you wanna plague on the way to 79’s.” He winked. 
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” Your tone dripped with sarcasm. “Seeing as you’ve already proved to be a pain in the rear this evening, I’ll catch a ride with Jesse, thank you very much.” You chuckled, and Jesse smiled. 
“I-I’m honored, General!” He exclaimed, and saluted. “Calm down, Jesse, it’s y/n, not General Kenobi.” Fives laughed as he mounted his speeder. You smiled, and clambered onto Jesse’s behind him. 
“Heads up, General. He drives like he’s fresh outta the tube!” Fives teased from a few yards away. 
“I do not, Fives! Stop making me look bad!” Jesse shouted back, and flushed. “S-sorry, General.” He apologized sheepishly. You suppressed a laugh, and patted his shoulder. “It’s quite alright, Jesse.” You chuckled and gave a content sigh. “It’s quite alright.” 
Arriving at the bustling platform of 79’s you were shocked at the amount of Clones gathered on it, and making their way either in, or out of the bar. The flashing neon lights of the sign pierced the darkness, and threw vidid splashes of color across your white robes. 
“Well, looks like we won’t be alone, tonight!” Fives exclaimed as he dismounted his speeder. “When are we ever alone here, Fives?” Jesse rubbed his temples as if a headache was coming over him. Fives stretched, and popped his fingers. “Who’s ready to get kriffing wasted!” He bellowed. You strode up behind him, and slapped him upside the head in one swift motion. “No, Sir you’re not! We have a strategy meeting in the morning! I forbid you get ‘wasted’.” Fives blushed and chuckled. “I was only mostly joking with all due respect, General.” He methodically explained. “Mhm. I see that.” You eyed him as you walked in stride with him into the bar. It was bustling on the inside. Part of you feared being recognized, but the rest of you didn’t care. You were here to forget, and throw caution to the wind for a few hours. You’d deal with the consequences later. It was hard to concentrate on just one area of the bar, seeing as there were many mixed dynamics unfolding every few feet…but a particular figure caught your eye. A solitary clone, sitting hunched over at the bar with his fingers running absently around the rim of his shot glass. You recognized him instantly. 
“Ey, General!” Fives called, waving you over to a booth. He had found Echo, Hardcase, and Kix and was asking if you wanted a go at darts. You shook your head, and motioned towards the bar, hoping he would get the message. Fives grinned, and nodded. 
A good man, that Fives. 
And a good soldier. 
As crazy as he was, he genuinely was a kind, and caring soul. But now as you squeezed through a labyrinth of dancing, drinking Clones…your thoughts were only focused on one soul. You knew Rex felt every loss just as deeply as you did. He merely had a better way of hiding it. You were right behind him now, but his head was hung, and he had not noticed you. 
“You know, when Fives said you’d be here, I thought he was joking.” You slid onto the barstool beside him, thus announcing your presence. 
“Oh! G-General!” Rex stammered, and his head shot up. He raised his eyebrows, and peered in an intrigued manor at you. “I…could say the same about you.” He began slowly. “Can I buy you a drink?” He politely offered. You smiled, and shook your head. “The drink I’ll take, but put it on Fives’s tab. He’s paying this evening.” You nodded firmly. 
“Ahh, I see.” Rex chuckled, and a small grin pulled at his lips. He cast a glance over his shoulder and rolled his eyes seeing how dramatically Fives was telling another one of his daring tales. He finished off what was left in his shot glass, and waved down the bar tender, insisting that your oder be put on Fives’s tab. 
“All of his shenanigans aside— I’m glad you’re here, General.” Rex looked at you, and you thought that his eyes looked older than when you’d seen them last. “Please, Rex,” You sighed as you looked down at the counter. “Call me by my name…just when it’s us.” Rex’s eyes widened a bit, but he nodded as if he’d just been given an order his life depended on. “Understood, y/n.” 
The way he said it made you flush, which you wanted to kick yourself for. “Are you doing alright…just—y’know, after the other day. I don’t want to ruin the evening, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” You asked as you received your shot. Rex looked bitterly into his. 
“Nothing I’m not used to.” He shrugged. 
“I didn’t ask if you were nullified to it, I asked if you were okay.” You gently reinforced. Rex took this into consideration. “I-I’ll be alright. Thanks for asking.” You noticed a hint of blush had crept up into his cheeks, but figured it was just the alcohol. You’re heart ached. You could see the hurt in his dark eyes. You could sense his heaviness and grief. After downing your shot, you waved down the bartender for another. 
“I didn’t think that you drank.” Rex quietly observed. “I do tonight.” You replied with a small sigh. Rex creased his brow and gazed at you. You wanted to look back at him, but you could not meet his eyes. 
At that moment, a song started blaring from the speakers and the whole crowd went up in a riot. You could hardly hear yourself think. Then Rex laid his hand firmly on your shoulder as he rose from his seat. “Follow me.” He shouted to be heard above the noise. You chuckled, and followed on Rex’s heels through crowds, out the back door, and into the cool night. There was a small balcony that was used for deliveries that was seemingly deserted. Even the sounds of traffic paled in comparison to the obnoxious concoction of noises in the bar. Your chest rose, and you exhaled contently, mind eased by the quieter atmosphere. “Much obliged to you, Rex.” You winked. Rex rested his arms across the railing of the balcony. You did the same, and stole a glance up at him. His lips were pursed, and his eyes were distant…but he was as handsome as ever. 
“How about you?” He asked suddenly, still not looking down at you. You tilted your head to the side. 
“Pardon?” You further inquired. 
“Are you…okay?” 
Your heart skipped a beat. Of course you weren’t okay. But how on earth could you tell him that without lying to him? 
“Dunno,” You quickly shrugged and turned your head away. Rex shifted to where his side leaned against the railing.
“You don’t know?” He repeated doubtfully. “Y/n, I have a hard time believing that.” 
You bit your lip as tears stung your eyes. You hadn’t cried for them yet, you hadn’t gotten a chance to. But Rex was here now, and he cared about you. Could you cry in front of him? 
“I just…” Your breath got caught in your throat. You heaved and your lower lip trembled as your self control started to slip. “I failed them.” You whispered as a tear fell. Rex instinctively took a step closer to you. 
“Y/n, no you didn’t…” He quietly contradicted. 
“I did, too!” You sobbed, swiftly turning and looking up at him. “Every one of those boys died at my command! Their blood is on my hands! I was the officer in charge.” Tears streamed down your face, and you choked as you sobbed. Rex simply stood there, unsure of himself or what to do. He slowly raised his arm, and laid his hand on your shoulder. “I understand.” He whispered. “I…understand.” You pressed your hands to your heaving chest, and leaned into the Captain as you were overcome by sobs. Rex did nothing for a moment, but after observing the situation, he gently folded his arms over your shoulders. He gently patted your back and hushed you. “There now, you’ll be alright.” He whispered. You shook your head slightly and heaved. Rex pulled away, and held you by the shoulders. He looked deeply into your tear-filled eyes. “Y/n, listen to me. It’s not your fault. In battle the loss of life is inevitable. I was out there with you, and you commanded those troops to the best of your ability. The lives lost were due to the enemy, not you. I know that, and those boys knew that. Understand?” He finished gently. You sniffed, and nodded realizing how ridiculous you must look. Then another thought kicked in. Your face was only inches away from Rex’s. The city lights glimmered in his dark eyes like nothing you’d ever seen.
“Can—can I have another hug?” You meekly asked, feeling your already red face flush. Rex’s eyes widened for a moment before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. “I—sure. Sure you can.” His eyes darted about as if making sure no one was around to see you. You put your arms around his waist, and he held you slightly tighter than before. You slowly started to steady your shaky breaths, and calm your spirits. “Thank you.” You whispered after a moment…but you did not pull away. Rex did not make you. You then realized just how long you had wanted to hug the Captain. You went directly against the Jedi code in what you felt for the Captain, but was it really a bad thing? This “attachment,” had brought no pain. Instead it had brought happiness, and light to you. You looked up into Rex’s face, and moved back a step. 
“Rex, I—” you began, unsure of what to say. You knew what you felt, but how could you put it into words? 
“I’m here.” Rex grinned and your heart leapt. 
“I think…” You began quietly. “I think you’re a wonderful person. I admire and respect you very much…would it be so wrong for a General to fall in love with her Captain?” You let your words hang in the air as Rex stood before you in shock. “Y/n…” He stuttered. “Are—are you serious?” He blinked as his breathing quickened. 
“I am, Rex.” You looked into his eyes with an unwavering gaze, anticipating the worst. 
“All this time…” Rex breathed. “I thought it was something wrong with me.” His eyes scanned you, and you sensed the conflict within him. “I…” He began, but you took his gloved hand in yours, cutting him off. Now you knew his blushing was from more than the alcohol. 
“I understand.” You smiled at him as your heart started to pound inside your chest. Rex hesitantly drew you by the hand closer to him, you could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. You gazed up into his deep brown eyes, and your stomach back flipped. His eyes were seemingly alight with some newfound glow. He leaned his head down, and you could feel his breath as your foreheads pressed together. 
“I’ve…never done this to anyone before.” He bashfully admitted, releasing a wry chuckle. You grinned, and cupped the side of his face with your hand. “Neither have I, so maybe we’ll have beginner’s luck.” You joked. Rex shut his eyes, and softly brushed his lips against yours, sending an electric shock wave through you. Your eyes fluttered shut, and as you slid your arms around his neck, you noted to thank Fives for inviting you out that evening. You had needed it more than you realized. 
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