#and can we talk about padme’s dress in the second one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

echos-newlegs · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can we get 28 with Hunter? ❤️

Dancing Around

Yes, wait I actually have a cute idea for this one ohmyfforce- but you didn’t give me a gender so I did femish!reader. Hope that’s okay— I am so sorry if this is trash. I dunno how to write Hunter, apparently 🧑🏼‍🦯

Hunter x Reader: “Kriff you’re hot..”

Warnings: Language, probably. I cuss a lot sorry guys 😔

You and the bad batch were sent to a foreign planet to help watch over senator Amidala. She had another attempted assassination against her, and the 501st weren’t available. So she specifically asked for you and the boys. You and Padmé knew each other, and she trusted you. Plus she knew you did a hell of a good job keeping the boys in line. No, you weren’t their Jedi, you were their, well. Everything. You were a mechanic, pilot, and a trained medic. Plus, according to all of them, even Crosshair. You were a hell of a cook. You and Clone Force 99 were off to a ball. Whether they liked it or not.

“A ball.. Like a dance?” Crosshair asked you as you stood next to Hunter and explained the plan of attack to them all. “Yeah, did I stutter?” You spat and Wrecker laughed at that. He always enjoyed how you wouldn’t take crap from his vod. “No, what, you expect us to be let into a Kriffing dance?” Crosshair fired back and you sighed. Pinching the bridge of your nose. Crossing your other arm under your chest. “Yes, because we were ordered to attend. I just need one of you to dress up and pretend to be my date, and it’s either you, Wrecker, or Hunter.” You added. “What about Tech?” “He has his own job, were you not listening to me at all? You have ears for a reason. I didn’t realize you needed hearing aids, too.” You hissed. “Tech will be keeping tabs and hacking into the cameras. So which-“ You weren’t even able to finish your sentence and Hunter was speaking up. “I can.”

Crosshair looked over to his brother with a shocked look, but then a smirk. The both having a small stare off. Cross smirking like he knew something you all didn’t and Hunter glaring daggers. Unspoken words that you weren’t about to intrude on. “Awesome, now we just need to meet up with Padmé and then we can get our outfits.” You added, and Crosshair scoffed walking off. “Hey, you try wearing a dress I’d MUCH rather wear a suit!” You snapped. Shaking your head and turning to walk off yourself. “Fucking prick.” You muttered, and headed back off to the project you were previously working on.

Hunter stood in place for a second. Wrecker and Tech smiling over to their brother. Hunter shooting the two of them a look. “What?” Tech grinned and shook his head. “Nothing,” Wrecker wasn’t as secretive about what he was thinking, though. “You just wanna dance with y/n.” Hunter looked to the larger male with shock. Blush creeping up the back of his neck. “What? No I don’t this is for a mission and the two of you weren’t volunteering. I was just tired of y/n and Crosshairs bickering.” He informed them, and Wrecker chuckled and walked off. Tech snickering and saying a quick, ‘uh-huh, sure,’ before he was walking off himself. Leaving Hunter alone in his thoughts. So what if he just wanted an excuse to dance with you, or even just fake being your date for one night. Was that too much to ask for?

It didn’t take you all long to get to your destination. Last mission you were only one jump away. Padmé was thrilled to see you, as you were her. The two of you sharing a hug and a small catching up. Before the boys seemed to get too antsy, and caught her attention. “These must be Clone Force 99?” She spoke and you nodded, looking over to your boys with a grin. “Yeah, don’t mind them, they’re shy.” You tittered, smirking over to Cross who shot you a displeased look and an eye roll. “There’s Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, and Crosshair.” You spoke, holding back the urge to make a comment on all of them. Padmé smiling sweetly and waving her hand when they saluted her. “At ease, no need for that here. Now let’s get going. You all need to look like you came to a dance, not like you just got out of the war.” She spoke, you and the gang following her inside.

The boys all headed off with a man to get their suits fitted, you heading off with Padmé to get your outfit. “Do I have to wear a dress?” You asked her with almost a whine. “I can’t fight in a dress, you better not make me wear heels, stars I’d rather get shot!” You exclaimed and she laughed at that. “You don’t have to wear heels, but you have to wear a dress. I’m sure your date would love to see you in one, anyways.” Curse your stupid girls night you had with her a few months back when you were passing through Naboo without the boys. You told her all about your stupid feelings for Hunter, and she obviously didn’t forget. “What? No! I don’t like him anymore, he doesn’t like me anyways.” You lied. You did still like him, and she knew it. “Uh-huh, and I’m in love with a Sith Lord, are we sharing more lies?” She teased and you ducked your head down. “Come on, I’ll make the dress simple.”

Oh, the dress was nothing simple. It may have been in Padmés point of view, but not yours. It was a a flowing red and black dress that matched with her own. It wasn’t sparkly or anything, thankfully, but it was just too much in your perspective. Plus she had her servants put your hair up ina fancy bun that you didn’t even know was considered a bun. Then your nails were painted, since you refused the acrylics, and last but not least. The make up. “If I get bad acne after tonight, I’ll never forgive you.” You spoke with a frown and she laughed. She laughed at you. “Y/n, if you get acne from what little makeup you have on your skin is too sensitive.” You huffed at that, and followed her to sit and wait, until you were supposed to head out for the dance.

Tech took off shortly after he got his suit. He headed to hack into the cameras to keep an eye on things inside and out. Along with being able to watch the vents. Which were the main worries. Something could easily come in and out without them knowing about it.

Crosshair and Wrecker were the next to leave. Cross was able to head above the dance floor and scope out the place on the floor above. He wasn’t allowed his rifle, which pissed him off a bit, but he did have a blaster under his suit jacket like the rest of the boys did. Wrecker was on the main floor, where Hunter was following shortly after. Waiting for you to join him so the two of you could pose as a couple talking with Padmé.

You were the last to leave and enter the ball room. Padmé had left and told you to take your time. You were overthinking all of this. Hands trembling and face flushed red. This was way out of your comfort zone, and not only that, but Hunter would see you. Eyes darting around and then you inhaled. This isn’t for you, this is for your friend. You are here to protect Padmé. Feeling for the blaster hooked to your thigh with a holster. Then you were opening the door and heading for the dance floor.

You were scanning the crowd, looking for any signs of Padme or Hunter. Pushing through the crowd best you could. Lips pressed together, firmly, as you ventured the crowds. Letting out nervous chuckles and ‘excuse me’s. Bumping into someone for what felt like the hundredth time. You looked up with a nervous smile. Opening your mouth to say a quick apology. Until they turned and you saw it was Hunter. He looked so different, so.. Handsome. He wasn’t wearing his bandana, he was shaved, clean. Plus his suit was stunning. Not only that, but it complimented your outfit perfectly.. Padmé, working her wonders.

“Kriff..” He basically breathed out, and your smile faded a bit. Eyes darting to the side nervously. “You’re hot.” He finished, and your eyes looked back to his. Gulping. Did he really just? “Or I mean, um, you look nice,” He awkwardly stammered. He was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if he was getting overstimulated and anxious, or if it was because of you? It had to be overstimulation. “Hey, Padmé should be away from the crowd, let’s get you out of here.” You told him. Motioning for him to follow. He nodded and accompanied you. Eyes never leaving you, not even for a second.

The two of you found Padmé talking with some other political people. You weren’t sure who though. You could honestly care less. “Hey,” you chimed when she smiled over to you. Padmé excusing herself and coming over to stand in front of the two of you. “Well, if it isn’t the dashing couple,” She teased. The both of you looking away sheepishly, and you glared at her. Just a bit. “We aren’t,” “Hunter, I was only teasing, I know you aren’t a pair. A shame, you two look absolutely amazing.” Padmé added with a sigh and you glared at her full force this time. “Ooh, I love this song, Come on guys, look less awkward.” She added, shoving the two of you back into the crowd. You were starting to wonder if there were even assassins that this point.

You got lost, again. Hunter was looking for you in a bit of a panic. “Y/n,” He blurted, trying to make himself taller to look over the crowd and find you. A hand grabbing yours and pulling you further. “Hey!” You snapped, and turned to see another guy. “Aren’t you here to dance?” He asked with a grin. Grabbing your hands and swinging you around. You did your best to not punch and kick him to the ground, but just went along with it at first. Hunter finally spotting you. Noticing your uncomfortable look as the guy, obviously wasted. Danced with you. It wasn’t so much that he was jealous, he just didn’t want you in a situation you weren’t comfortable in. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“Hey, that’s my date,” He gruffed and the guy looked over to hunter with a brow raised. “How’d this pretty girl end with you?” He blurted in a slur and Hunter rolled his eyes. “She’s mine,” He snapped and the guy sighed, letting you go. “Alright, if he doesn’t dance with you. You know where to find me.” He spoke, before kissing your hand and drifting into the crowd.

You were at a loss for words, the two of you staring off in the direction the man went off in. “What an ass,” The two of you blurted. Looking to one another with a blank stare. Then bursted into a small fit of laughter. “A dance then? Padmé asked us to look less awkward.” Hunter spoke. “Plus, I don’t want that creep stealing my date again.” Holding a hand out with a smile. Stars, this had to be a dream. You taking his hand hesitantly. Allowing him to pull you towards him. One hand on your hip, the other in your hand. Your own free hand resting on his shoulder. “Look, about earlier, when I said.” You smiled and shook your head. Raising your hand. Gently touching his lips. “Shh, Hunter you’re fine, I know, you probably didn’t mean it.” You spoke with a smile. Stars you couldn’t even take the hint when it was right in front of you.

Hunter furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What? No.. I meant it, mesh’la, what do you take me as?” He asked, smiling and looking down at you. Now was your turn to get nervous and for your face to go red. “I uhm- I take you as.. Someone who wouldn’t flirt with their pilot. I thought one of the others dared you to..” You started and he shook his head. Stopping the sway of the dance you were both in. Hand releasing yours so he could raise it to cup your cheek. His other hand still on your hip. “Y/n, you look beautiful, I mean it, too. No one dared me to do anything, I promise.”

This felt like a dream come true. hunter was leaning down. Your lips were inches apart and you were squirming. “Prove it then,” You murmured, and he leaned in. Though before he could capture your lips with his you heard a shout in your ear pieces. It was Tech. “Kriff..” You both murmured. Hunter pulling away so the two of you could listen to the others words. “If we make it out of this alive, I’ll show you tonight.” Hunter spoke with a small smirk. Squeezing your hip and you smirked back. “That better be a promise, Sargent.” He snickered and pulled back from you, his hands still shaking a bit, and this time you knew it was from the crowd. “I would never lie to you, ever.” And off he went. You taking off in your own separate way. Now you had a reason to complete this mission, and a thank you that needed delivered right to Padmé.

#bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch

254 notes · View notes

chokemeanakin · 3 years

Text

Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist.

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever.

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.”

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.”

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up.

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts.

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer.

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent.

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive.

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor.

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her.

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare?

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill.

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s?

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well.

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner.

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry.

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme.

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned.

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you.

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.”

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches.

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door.

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back.

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting.

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand.

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red.

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough.

“I’ll save you a spot.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin angst #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #jealous anakin #soft anakin #Anakin x fem reader smut #anakin fic

624 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

98 notes · View notes

nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27 Part Two - Suicidal Misunderstanding AU

Continuation of this

By the time the hovercar finally pulled into the temple, Obi-Wan’s tremors had mostly quieted. Cody awkwardly manhandled him out the vehicle door. Obi-Wan didn’t resist; he mostly seemed to be dealing with the overwhelming situation by refusing to open his eyes.

“Master?” Cody absently noticed that Anakin’s robe was tied modestly, with no other layers peaking out underneath; wherever he was before Cody called, he had left half-dressed and in a hurry.

Obi-Wan started shaking again, burying his face into Cody’s pauldron.

“Yeesh- you’re really a wreck,” Anakin observed bluntly but not without sympathy. “Honestly, you’re taking all the fun out of the situation. What’s the point of getting drunk if you act so pathetic that your smug padawan can’t even mock you afterwards?” Anakin hesitantly laid a hand on his master’s shoulder.

It was uncertain whether it was the words or the touch that succeeding in garnering a positive response, but finally Kenobi seemed to pull himself together. With a deep breath, the high general straightened up, opening his eyes to look Skywalker square in the face. He continued to hold eye-contact, expression gradually shifting from steely resolve to open faced delight.

“ANAKIN!” Obi-Wan flung himself at his former padawan with obvious joy. “OH ANAKIN! IT’S YOU! IT’S REALLY YOU!” They staggered with the force of Obi-Wan’s enthusiastic bear hug.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Anakin managed to get out, shocked by his Master’s uncharacteristically loud and emotional greeting, as well as slightly breathless from the intense grip. Obi-Wan didn’t answer; he just held Anakin tighter.

“Man, what did you drink?” he tried to ask instead, deciding to return the hug fully and deal with any later consequences later.

Obi-Wan shifted back enough to make eye-contact again. His brow furrowed in thought. “Just some Jawa beer to wash down the spice doses.”

“SPICE DOSES?!?” Cody and Anakin both shouted in alarm. Anakin grabbed at Obi-Wan’s face, examining the man’s pupils before pulling back his lip to look at his gums. “You don’t look like you’re dosed up. And the only thing you smell like is middling quality alcohol.” he concluded doubtfully. “Are you sure that’s what you took?”

Obi-Wan stopped to think again “The Jawas that sold it seemed pretty confident. I would be more likely to entertain the possibility that I was ripped off were you not standing here with me.”

“I- Wwhere- When would you have even bought spice from Jawas?” Anakin asked, exchanging bewildered looks with Commander Cody.

“They seem to like stopping by my hut, even when I don’t have anything to steal or buy. I suppose there’s not many opportunities for sentient contact out on in the wastes,” He mused.

Anakin only looked more confused, reasonably confident that he would have known if Obi-Wan owed a home on Tatooine.

“Heart rate was slightly elevated to normal on the ride over, sir.” Cody added dutifully. “Well within average human normal, and not consistent with spice use or alcohol poisoning.”

“His presence in the force is... strange,” Anakin said while patting Obi-Wan soothingly on the back. “I’d have to take him to the healers to confirm, but my best guess is he's having a bad reaction to something he drank. There are certain alcohols that can cause side-effects and unexpected reactions in force-sensitives. Though I can’t believe that after all the lectures he’s given me, he would be stupid enough to drink one.”

“He...did have an unknown mixed drink a bartender gave him on the house,” Cody said with a sinking sense of failure. “Could this have been a targeted attack?”

Skywalker clearly looked pissed at the idea “If it was, then that bartender committed an act of treason.” Only the fact that he was still supporting Ob-Wan’s weight (in what was rapidly approaching the second-longest hug they had ever shared) kept him from taking command of the troopers to interrogate a bartender.

“Sir, do you want me to accompany you to medical and make a report?” Cody asked.

Anakin hesitated, thinking while Obi-Wan rested his chin on his former padawan’s shoulder. As amusing as the idea was in theory, he didn’t really want to humiliate a vulnerable, emotional Obi-Wan by dragging him through the heart of the temple to be gawked at and judged.

“No.” He finally decided, “Even if he somehow managed to miss the fact that he was being poisoned in a civilian bar, he’s more than capable of processing toxins on his own, and I’m more than capable of monitoring him overnight. We’ve got a full field med-kit in our quarters- I can take a blood sample tonight, and ask him what he wants to do with it once he sobers up in the morning.”

Obi-Wan readjusted slightly as Anakin shrugged, “It’s also possible that he just, you know, overdid it drinking, which isn’t anyone’s business but his own. I mean, he hasn’t exactly had the opportunity to cut loose when he’s a High General all the time; his tolerance might not have been where he was expecting.”

Cody saluted in acknowledgement of the command decision. He ruthlessly quashed any doubts, reminding himself that General Kenobi had, in fact, asked for General Skywalker by name, and Skywalker was likely to better informed on Jedi responses to alcohol.

“Master, let’s get you to our quarters so you can sleep this off,” Anakin reluctantly pulled back from was now officially the longest hug Obi-Wan had ever given him. “Can you walk by yourself, or do you want me to help?”

The unusually peaceful smile Obi-Wan was wearing started to slide away. “Our quarters? Our quarters were destroyed. There’s nothing to find there now but ash,” he stated, as if gently reminding Anakin of a known tragedy.

Cody, still standing by, sucked in a breath.

“Besides,” he continued mater of factly, “You were barely ever in them at this point anyway. Even for a dream, it would be a lot more realistic for me to go to my quarters and sit in the dark trying to memorize casualty lists, while you’re out somewhere unknown, carousing with Padme presumably.”

“Carousing with Padme?! I - why would you- Master!” Anakin fumbled out, addressing the last point first before processing the rest.

“And is that seriously what you do when you have time off? Just sit and memorize the names of everyone who died during the war? That’s - that’s seriously sad Obi-Wan, we are talking about that when you sober up.” Not giving Obi-Wan the chance to defend his extremely sad hobby, Anakin plowed on.

“And our quarters are fine, I know that- uh- I know I haven’t been around a lot, but I was just in there earlier today, they look practically the same as they did when I was a padawan. Whatever you saw, here and now - I promise you - here and now the temple is fine. We’ll talk about your vision or your hallucination once you sober up, I promise.” Anakin ended emphatically, gripping Obi-Wans shoulders and staring directly into his eyes.

The miniature rant seemed to work.

“That sounds nice,” Obi-Wan said smiling, “I would love to see our old rooms- I know it didn’t really matter either way to you, but I always took comfort in the fact that you never bothered with requesting a new room after you were knighted. I know, I know that between how rarely we were temple based and Padme, it probably just didn’t cross your mind, but it was nice to have some tangible reminder of our connection, even as the war and the growing darkness stole everything else.”

Anakin truly didn’t know how to respond, the raw emotional honesty somehow even more painful than the crushing hug. Obi-Wan reached up to smooth back his hair like he was still a child. He then walked a few steps to face the extremely out-of-depth Commander Cody.

Not hesitating, Obi-Wan pulled Cody into a tender hug which he couldn’t help but lean into. The commander brought his arms up and around but hesitated to actually make contact, instead ghosting his hands along the general’s back.

“I always wanted to do that,” Obi-Wan whispers into Cody’s ear. “I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done; I never would have gotten through the war without you. I wish...I wish I could tell you that I consider you one of the best of men, and one of the best of friends. But... I can’t. Even if I abandoned my last mission to search you out, even if I succeeded in finding you, you would never allow me close enough to do this.”

Cody’s heart is racing, trying to decode the General’s words over the ringing white noise in his ears. He stops breathing entirely as Obi-Wan shifts to press their foreheads together, allowing him to focus entirely on the feel of the general’s breath, the sight of tears trickling again from red-rimmed eyes. “Goodbye, Cody.” he finally exhales.

And with that he turned and walked away, not looking back.

Next (Part Three)

#star wars #my au #star wars au no 27 #suicidal misunderstanding au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #commander cody #how should i format trigger warnings is there a guide somewhere #nothing in this post but at some point in this au its literally the premise #time travel au #shoutout to #@wonderingrealist #for commenting and whatnot #i've been lurking on tumblr for a while but actually logging in and engaging is new so thank you #fanfiction #star wars au #sw

242 notes · View notes

dgcatanisiri · 2 years

Text

*sigh* Looks like it’s just A DAY for being prompted to litigate old drama... Since I’ve done this one a dozen times over, I’ll put it behind a cut.

The Last Jedi is a HOPELESS movie. Our heroes do the (ostensibly) wrong thing, they get betrayed, their resources are destroyed, no one comes to their aid, and by the end, they’re packed into the space-fantasy equivalent of a beat up weed van and that’s THE WHOLE of their resources, against an enemy who APPARENTLY rules the galaxy.

Like let me hammer this point: NO ONE COMES TO THEIR AID. Like for all the other issues I have with Rise of Skywalker, that scene, where ships show up was great, because it refuted this idea.

And that idea was one of THE most hopeless elements of TLJ. That, in a moment of crisis, no one else stands up. This is a FRANCHISE where that’s been one of the biggest things - the Empire spanned the galaxy, but we centered on the Rebels who stood up and fought back. Luke looked at DARTH VADER, a symbol of all the Empire’s evil and dark deeds, and said “I feel the good in you, Father.” The ragtag Rebels and the primitive Ewoks took on the might of the Empire and defeated it. The child queen took on and defeated the massive corporate conquerors and made peace with a native culture who saw hers as invaders with an act of deep humility. Even as Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith gave us what we knew to be the rise of the Empire, a growing darkness of civilizations, in the former, we had a moment of peace as Anakin and Padme marry, and then the latter ends on that scene of a new hope being protected - an ending that feels hopeful because this is a prequel and we know what comes next, we know that this hope saves the galaxy.

That was the hope of the prior movies. How can you look at the finale of TLJ and see it as hopeful? The Resistance sacrificed all their resources just in the name of getting to that planet of salt, with the plan being “let’s let all our ships get blown up, and hope that our mad dash to the nearest world is covered by the destruction of our last ship!” and the ONLY way they made it out alive was because of Rey’s abrupt return with the Falcon. That wasn’t planned.

Holdo is an absolute failure of a leader - she’s a “last chain in the link” commander who knows this, walking around in a cocktail dress like she’s going to be chatting up senators during an existential crisis, making no effort to show the people who know she’s last in the chain - because all the other leaders of the Resistance were killed, except for Leia, who is in a coma - and, in the midst of that crisis, not just does she make no effort to calm down Poe or ease his concerns - or, if you want to argue that “the admiral isn’t required to explain herself to a pilot who just got demoted,” first, let me point out that the demotion thing? If you want to take it by military standards, it wouldn’t count, since Leia “demoting” him comes after she slaps him, which would be grounds for HER getting court-martialed, and, second, as I’ve gone over well before, Poe made a SOUND TACTICAL DECISION at the start of the film.

At least, when judging him in context with the rest of the established Star Wars universe. The problem is that TLJ tosses all of that aside.

Snubfighters like the X-Wings have always been shown to have independent hyperdrives. Leia had no need to keep the Resistance fleet close - the X-Wings could be a distraction to allow them to jump out of system, and then make the jump themselves, rather than have to be collected by any command ship or something.

Likewise, if those bombers couldn’t survive hitting a slow moving and massive target like that dreadnought, then those fighters should have gotten scrapped for parts ages ago, even on the basis of the Resistance taking the resources that it could get. Like the way they talk about those bombers, you’d think they were a pre-Clone War relic, considering all we’ve seen about Y-Wings in the course of the Original Trilogy AND TCW as a series.

And the dreadnought itself? That should have been a MASSIVE blow to the First Order, considering that this is pretty clearly just DAYS after TFA at most and, as TLJ wants to forget, this means that the Resistance just took out a First Order weapon the literal size of a planet, since Starkiller was built into a planet. That means the First Order lost ALL the men and material resources that offered, as well as the symbol of fear they inspired. And then, Poe adds the destruction of a dreadnought with more than 200000 troops on board to their losses.

The comparison I’ve used before is that this is a neo-natsee organization, getting their hands on a nuclear weapons facility, using the first nuke immediately off the production line on DC, and then having their plant blown up, then also having the surplus tank that they were using destroyed as well. This should be a MASSIVE blow to their war machine, the First Order should be shaken and in shambles with these kinds of losses - it’s even the kind of losses that would JUSTIFY Snoke appearing, because his flagship is a resource they can’t keep in hiding.

But legit, TLJ wants to forget this part of TFA - no one even MENTIONS Starkiller, not even as a “the galaxy doesn’t know about its destruction, they’re afraid of it being used on them, they won’t come” argument. Or the fact that Poe himself was the pilot who flew that mission - that makes him someone you’d think WOULD be need to know on a mission involving a desperate flight and escape, or even a justifiable reason for taking him off the active duty list, by way of the torture and trauma he went through in the prior movie. Nope, it’s just Holdo taking him off duty to teach him a lesson about the chain of command and how he should have trusted her blindly, even as she refuses to make any effort to set him at ease about the situation, and very clearly on the basis of not liking HIM, personally.

And, in fact, the movie treats the First Order, built as the remnants of the Empire after Endor, shoved out to the margins of the galaxy, assembling in secret, as the Empire during the Original Trilogy, as a galaxy spanning organization with an iron fist over everything. EXCEPT that’s not the case in TFA, again! Because the New Republic inherited the major resources of the Empire, and, even in funneling resources from the New Republic to the First Order, they would have had to do it in amounts that the New Republic would not become suspicious too soon. The sides of this conflict flipped in TFA, but TLJ snaps everything, and particularly resources, back to the way it was during the Original Trilogy.

*sigh* I could go further, expanding on the problems of how the film treated and demoted Finn in its plot, how Rey got made into a sexy lamp for the sake of Kylo’s development, how pointless Canto Bight is as a C-plot, how much Yoda didn’t deserve that moment with Luke to preach about a lesson he never learned himself... But I’ve ranted enough at this point, I’m tried of doing it, and just... Honestly, at this point, I wish people just stopped TALKING about this movie.

Because that’s what I keep getting hung up on. Not the movie itself - I don’t mind, really I don’t, if people respond differently to a film. The problem I have, the reason I keep ranting about this, is that people keep bringing up this movie as perfect and flawless and just in general... as GOOD, when... *motions to the page and a half of ranting, plus the respective tag* No. No it is not.

I’ve said it before, some of this bothered me sitting in the theater, it’s not fridge logic, it’s active plot holes. But people who I respect, people who make film analysis a career, see it as good and perfect, when... I saw these issues IN THE GODDAMN THEATER. My very initial reaction to the movie, in the immediate aftermath of watching it, called it “high C/low B.” But no, the response EVERYWHERE became a matter of extreme polarization - you loved it, you hailed it as a breath of fresh air into the franchise... or you hated it because you’re a sexist pig who can’t stand women at the forefront of the story.

But the thing on THAT count is that... Again, I see Holdo in the wrong, not because she’s a woman, but because she makes BAD. DECISIONS. and the narrative frames her as right all along, meanwhile Rey is reduced to a sexy lamp reward Kylo will get if he comes back to the light, a door he slammed shut in the prior movie when he killed Han Solo, his father. This movie just comes across as an edgelord dudebro wrote what he assumed would resonate with the audience he derides as being “hyper-woke.”

Or, to put it another way, a way that might be more charitable, this may have been an effort at deconstruction of the Star Wars mythos in general, but, since the writer knew he wasn’t going to be back for the conclusion, it ends up being demolition, with no regard for the effort at RECONSTRUCTION, of putting the pieces back together, because he wasn’t hired for that job.

#dg rants #the last jedi critical

7 notes · View notes

ladykatakuri · 3 years

Text

Our Dance

Tech x F Reader

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 2175

Lyrics used from the song All about us performed by He is We

Summary:“I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

Here it is, the Tech fic i was working on. Somehow i had several songs that inspired story idea`s and ofcourse it is with the guys from the Batch and yes i also have something in mind for Omega. Hope you like it and comments / tips are always more then welcome here <3

It was one of those evenings, once more. A senator had decided that it was time for an early celebration of, well something important on his home world and of course that meant guests, a lot of food and drinks, caterers and guards. Normally not a big problem, any time that you were invited to a party by a good friend you would happily accept and you did, but this evening turned out to be a huge annoyance to you and a strain on your self restraint.

During your time serving food and having nice conversations with people from all layers of society you came to be very fond of the clones you met. The Coruscant Guard became steady customers of the shop where you served caf and breakfast most times and all the others were a steady stream of visitors at 79`s, the bar where you would have evening and night shifts, waiting on tables and just having a good time with your new found friends. But this party? You would be happy to leave and if you could leave after giving some of the politicians there a piece of your mind then all the better!

It began with the senator of Scipio and delegate of the Banking Clan, Rush Clovis, mentioning to another senator he did not see why there should be any consideration for the clones. Their conversation was caught by you as you walked by on your way back to your friend who had invited you in the first place, Padme Amidala, but it was more than enough for you to already hate the man. Unfortunately it was not an uncommon feeling among people with a seat in the senate to think of the clones as nothing more but meat for the grinder. They were created on Kamino to fight in the war effort, and when they died? Well there were more where they came from.

With a slight tremble you move forward, handing out the drink to a friend you found among the guests and had a nice conversation with. In the meantime you knew that several clones were there by special invitation. The senator that was hosting this party wanted to display his power and thought it would be fun to have some of those clones around to have fun with. In this case that fun meant that the guests who wanted to, could either talk to the clones or even dance with them. They were no more than props on display for most of the people there and you hated every second of it. Especially when you realised one of your favorite groups of men were also there. You were about ready to leave the party and grab some sleep when you saw that special group of men, especially one very special, tall, goggled man who had been haunting your daydreams from time to time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Tech heard that they were ordered to attend a party he was seriously confused. “They do realise we are considered to be defective clones? Not many senators or other high placed figures would want us around them on purpose.” Rubbing his head he looks at his sargeant and leader, Hunter.

With a deep sigh, Hunter looked at his brother. “Yes Tech, they know. I believe that is exactly why they want us to attend this thing. I suppose there is some ulterior motive to it, but we have to follow this order in any case. So, suit up and be on your best behavior.” The last sentence has the sarge glance at the two most troublesome of his brothers, Wrecker and Crosshair. They were the least likely to really behave, but that was a concern for later.

Tech felt uncomfortable in his black suit, but orders were orders in this case and at least Senator Amidala had been kind enough to start a conversation with him and Echo. Both were surprised at her kindness and how she was genuinely interested in their feelings about the war. Echo had stopped him from rambling about the war too much by pointing out the one person he knew would draw more attention than anyone else in the room.

Take my hand, I'll teach you to dance

I'll spin you around, won't let you fall down

Would you let me lead? You can step on my feet

Give it a try, it'll be alright

For a moment it seemed as if there was only one person in the entire room, and that person was you. Tech looked in the direction Echo pointed at and there you were, walking around greeting and conversing with some of the guests in the room and looking picture perfect while doing so. A string of hair escaped your ponytail and the annoyed glance aimed at one of the senators only made you seem more beautiful. Looking at the senator that seemed to have annoyed you so much, he immediately understood why you seemed ready to hit the man with your fist. Senator Clovis was known to be ruthless when it came to clones and clone rights. When asked, he would always say the exact same thing, “Clones are mere tools in the warmachine. A cog perhaps. They are easily replaced and so, we have no need to mourn the loss of any of them. I see no reason why we would even have to spend any credits on the recovery of the wounded.”

A small grin formed on his lips as he watched you stalk away from the man and move to stand somewhere calm and quiet. Senator Amidala, still in conversation with Echo noticed the slight change in attitude as his eyes followed you around the room. “If you pardon my intrusion, Tech is it?” Her hand taps his arm as she turns to speak to him.

Tech looks at the senator as he answers. “It is indeed, senator. How may I help you?”

Amidala looks at the man currently shifting attention between her and the woman he keeps an eye on as she moves around the room. “I believe you might have to come to her aid soon. The senator currently trying to keep her attention on him is well known for his more….illustrious desires when it comes to women.” The concern in her eyes immediately urges him to spring to action and before she can even finish her full sentence he is off to the rescue.

You know that the man currently speaking to you as if you are just another nobody, who is lucky enough to have been invited to work the celebration taking place is also the same man who not only is a senator, but also well known for demanding personal time with all female personnel and even demanded coruscant guards to remove some women he has used when they became too much of a bother to him afterwards. This time he seems to have set his eyes on you and you are just not having it. “Senator, I must return to my friend now. I apologize for cutting this wonderful conversation short, but if I do not at least spend some time with Senator Amidala this evening, I would be a poor and ungrateful friend.” Though you smile it is obvious even to the senator you only mean the polite refusal to continue the conversation, as much as you refused to dance with him.

“I know you're nothing important in the senate, just a person that Amidala befriended from the lower regions of this planet. You will dance with me, because any offer such as this from the likes of me is an honor and then we will continue our conversation in private.” Just when he reaches for your hand to drag you back, your hand is taken by another man.

As fast as he managed to take your hand before the senator, Tech took the drink from your hand and gave it to another waiter nearby. His arm is already snaked around your waist as he turns you around and walks you to the middle of the room. “I believe you agreed to give me the first dance once you finished your round in the room Y/N. I noticed you were on your way back , so I suggest we make the best of it.

Surprise and gratitude quickly appear and leave your eyes as you smile at the man guiding you away. “Thank you Tech. I almost lost track of time.” The blush on your cheeks as you feel him turn you around to face him brightens when you take him in once more. He looks absolutely dashing in his black suit and light blue dress shirt.

The room's hush hush and now's our moment

Take it in, feel it all and hold it

Eyes on you, eyes on me

We're doing this right

The orchestra plays a slow song as Tech gently moves the two of you around the room. Despite his tall figure and the appearance of a soldier most times, he is absolutely graceful as he leads you in your dance. His hand, warm on the small of your back presses you closer to him while he softly squeezes the hand he holds. Leaning in closer to you his lips almost brush your ears as he whispers. “It seems you needed a rescue. Though from the look you gave that senator, it is highly probable I actually rescued him.” His low chuckle sends a shiver down your spine as he straightens out and swirls you around. “I shall thank Senator Amidala for warning me in time.”

Amidala, your friend. A senator who usually makes her way through all the layers of society and who does her best to help all people. She even spoke to you about clone rights and how to see to it that they would be treated more decently, after she found out that you were one of the people who were strong advocates for clone rights. Soon after that, the two of you struck up a friendship based on mutual respect. She invited you to this evening because of your shared passion for the rights of clones and your contact with many of these men. She felt it might make them feel at ease, seeing a friendly face in the crowd.

Grinning you look up into the brown, bespectacled eyes of your hero of the evening. “I will thank her for sending me a hero.”

The music stops and you are ready to step away from Tech so that he can walk back to his brothers. Tech however is not moving an inch and he is not letting go of your hand. Pulling you back in at the same moment another song is started, Tech gently guides you in another dance.

“You know, people will stare at us. They might even start to talk about us.” A gentle blush on your cheeks, you whisper to him.

'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love

Spotlight's shining

It's all about us

It's oh, oh, all

About uh, uh, us

And every heart in the room will melt

This is a feeling you never felt dry

It's oh, oh, all about us

Tech has always been kind to you from the moment you met. His brothers, all with their own sense of humor and fun way of flirting quickly became good friends of yours. Tech as well, though you also developed a crush on him rather fast. His fast knowledge of pretty much everything and witty remarks only served to make you fall harder for the man. And now here you were in his arms, dancing to beautiful music, still a little insecure on whether or not you should let him know how you feel.

Without paying any attention to the room, Tech moves the two of you a bit more to the edges of the room. No longer swirling around with all the other couples on the floor, the two of you softly sway on the sidelines. Still in a warm embrace of his arm around you and his hand softly holding yours, he looks down at you and smiles. “People always find reasons to talk about others. It is in their nature to try and find common ground so as to divert attention from themselves at such events.”

You sigh softly and move the hand that was resting on his shoulder all this time to his face. Carefully brushing his cheek. “You could just tell me to let them watch you know?”

A chuckle escapes him as he leans in to you and his lips brush yours. “It's all about us anyway.

When he moves back, he pulls you in closer against him, your head against his chest, his arms around you as you keep swaying to the music. Nobody else in the room exists at that moment, but the two of you.

“All about us.” you whisper, a promise for the rest of the evening and all the days still to come.

@loth-wolffe @catbustours @reluctant-mandalore @nahoney22 @hellothere-generalangsty @allamarisss

#tech x you #tech x reader #The Bad Batch #Tech is a lovable sweetheart #He is We lyrics used for the fic #Our Dance

27 notes · View notes

famouskittychild · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Fun in the Sun

vol 1 - At the beach

This is my gift (vol 1) for @milfsyndullas in the Fun in the Sun gift exchange hosted on @starwarsfandomfests ! Thank you@lilhawkeye3 for organising this ☺️

Couldn't choose between two ideas so I wrote them both. This one is with Padme and Sabe on a nice day at a Naboo beach ^^

AO3

The village was still quiet this early in the morning. The fresh fragrance of baking breads wafted on the wind through the steep streets. The girls had woken up with the sun and packed lightly for a day at the beach, putting on their bathing suits under their clothes. They picked one of the many inviting, small shops at random and had a light breakfast of caf and pastries. From sitting higher up on the hill, they could see over the rooftops all the way to the open water of the lake and to the opposite shore.

Their usual daily program would be sailing over the lake and exploring some of the villages dotted along the shores, and that’s what they did the past few days. But this morning was promised to be unusually windy, if still warm, with bright sunshine in the afternoon. They were both capable with the boat but maybe this would have been pushing it on open water. Sabe was cautious, even if Padme war ready to take on the challenge. Also despite being on holiday, so far every day was busy, even if it was the relaxing kind and not work related busy. So Sabe told her darling Padme that she was working hard enough and she needs a day when she does nothing. No senatoring, no learning of local customs, no meeting with people. Just splashing about in the water, eating, and laying on the sun. Maybe some hand-holding and cuddling too.

“How about kissing? Am I allowed to kiss you today, or is that considered a job?” she teased Sabe over their breakfast. “As your girlfriend, it is my duty, if we think about it.”

“If it feels like duty than we need some serious talk.” Sabe looked back at her over the rim of her cup. “About your workload and you taking things too seriously.”

“Me? Taking things seriously? Never!” Padme defended her conduct, and stuck her pinky finger out and away from her cup as she took a sip. “Correction. Its not my duty, it is my privilege.”

“That’s better” nodded Sabe gracefully, as if accepting a formal apology. Then they both giggled. “Remember! No work today. Just fun with your girl.”

Padme blew a kiss to her over her pastry.

Most of the beaches were either open to the public with infrastructure built around them, or were privately owned, secluded bays. This one was neither. It was out of the way between two villages, hard to get there by boat, and just generally not worth the effort it took to travel there on speeders or on foot when there were so many, more convenient opportunities too. It was perfect for them for this very reason.

“What if someone is already there?” Padme asked.

“You mean, others might be just as clever as us?”

“No way, but they could’ve bumped into the place by accident.”

“Yes, true. In that case, I think we should quietly move away and look for another place?”

They agreed to walk to the next village if that was the case and visit that small restaurant there they’d been once already and promised themselves to go back.

The beach was empty. It was barely more than a cove in the cliffs, the footpath to it winding through rocks. Padme’s local bodyguard left them with her speeder after checking around and took up a sentry post higher on the steep hillside. She was good at her job, and the girls knew she’ll take a position where she sees all the pathways towards them whilst not seeing them personally to give them as much privacy as possible. Their sentry droid was stationed lower, hidden by a bush, keeping an eye on the girls a bit more closely, ready to report any threats or if one of them would be in distress.

They laid down their towels on the soft sand and put their bags on them to stop them from blowing away, then stripped off their shirts and dresses to run into the water. Their enthusiasm was a bit curbed when the cold water hit them higher and higher on their bodies with every step. They had to stop once they were stomach deep in to breath through the cold. Once they were used to that, they took another step - just to have to repeat the process until they were shoulder deep in water.

“I forgot it’s this cold in the morning” Sabe stuttered, and Padme nodded vigorously, teeth clattering.

They swam in the quiet little bay until they were exhausted. It was windy enough in this corner, backed by steeper cliffs, to make the surface of the lake frilly with crescent waves large enough to play with them. They flopped onto them belly first and let the water roll away under them, dropping into a valley; then they waited for the next crest to lift them up again with a help of a leg kick. When they got too exhausted and hungry to carry on, they waded out of the water.

Reaching the sandy shore, they run to their towels and wrapped themselves in them tightly, sitting close to each other until they dried off enough for the shivering to stop. Then they opened the basket that had all the fresh foods they bought that morning: spelt bread, almond cheese, tomatoes, fruits; and ate while chatting. Padme dug her toes into the ground, enjoying the soft sand between them. Then she flicked her toes up, tossing the sand into the air and watched where the fine grains would land. She repeated the game, Sabe smiling at her.

“I like it when you’re playful” she told Padme, tilting her head that she rested on her pulled up knees towards her. Padme looked down at her, face softening as she took in Sabe’s dreamy expression.

“I’m not playing, I’m conducting an experiment” she smiled coyly, remembering their conversation from the morning. Sabe took the teasing good-heartedly. Raising an eyebrow, she grinned back to Padme, her tone lacking real admonishment.

“No. Work. Today.” Padme blew another kiss to her.

They almost missed the gelaati float in the afternoon. Luckily they noticed the melody drifting towards them and could hail it just in time. Padme waved with both arms and yelled from the waist-deep water while Sabe waded to the shore to hail them. Usually it was manned by a droid, but this one was seemed to be driven by a humanoid. The driver waved back at them and lowered the float. It looked like it was modified from an old speeder, not purpose-made than most, and was painted with blue and white stripes. It hovered as close to them on the pathway as safety regulations allowed.

The driver waited patiently whilst the girls grabbed their towels and purses and made their way up on the hillside.

“Thank you for your patience, sir, and a good day to you as well.” Padme greeted him, slightly winded.

“And a good day to you, ladies. What can I serve you with?”

Now that was a good question. Most floats had a good selection of goods, and this one in particular was dripping with all the different foods and drinks. Caf’s of different types - some made the local way, some imported and advertised as being from Coruscant. They skipped over those without a second thought. There were ice creams of course, in bowls and in cones and on sticks; the soft airy types that came with trade and the local, much more dense gelaati that gave the name to the type of moving dessert shops like this. There were also fruit cones, roasted vegetables in little containers, chilled cheeses, and bread rolls kept warm in earthenware pots to round out the selection.

Since they had already eaten their lunch, they decided on some desserts. Padme choose the iced caf and Sabe got a dozen of her favourite flower waffles.

The girls walked back to the beach, chatting, the wind tousling their hair. They plopped down on their towels then stretched their legs and dug their toes into the soft sand as they got ready to eat their respective treats. They always choose different, be it food or drinks, and they always had the other have the first taste of whatever they had bought or ordered. Sabe tried the caf with the scoop of gelaati.

“Warm and cold together? I’ll never understand. But it’s nice enough.” Sabe put down the bowl whilst she waited for Padme who broke off a piece of one of the crunchy circles. Her lips were coated with the powdered sugar from the top of the waffle, and she held a palm under her chin to catch any stray crumbs.

“This one’s good too, even if it should be softer” she gave her verdict with a wink. She thought about popping the remaining bite-sized piece into her mouth, than changed her mind and offered it to Sabe. She leaned closer and let Padme feed it to her, than gave her her bowl. And after a moment of thought, a light kiss too.

Than they broke into giggles, lips sticky with powdered sugar, and cuddled as the waves lapped up to the shore.

#sw fun in the sun #swfuninthesun #summer gift exchange #padme/sabe #beachday #my writing

8 notes · View notes

zelenacat · 3 years

Text

When We Were Young- An Obitine Story- Chapter 18

Satine did not tell Korkie about her fight with his father, she did however, ask him to question his siblings on whether or not they wanted to meet their father. Tyra felt like she would hate to run into him at the temple if he’d met her, and Tristan felt that it would add more uproar to his life. Mara didn’t think he’d be proud of her, and seemed to understand that he’d fought with her mother. Korkie outright said he felt like forming a relationship with his father would be a betrayal to his mother. When Satine assured him it wouldn’t be, Korkie still didn’t budge.

So, a mere hour before the Duchess of Mandalore would welcome the head of the Trade Federation. She was texting Senator Amidala.

“None of the kids want to meet him?”

“None.” Satine repeated.

Padme bit her lip, “He’ll be angry.”

“I know.”

The phone end went silent.

“Padme,” Satine stutterted, “I mean, if it wouldn’t be too much, could you ask Anakin to break the news to him?”

“They haven’t been on the greatest of terms,” Padme frowned, “since Obi-Wan found out that we knew before he did they’ve been a little tense.”

“Could you tell him then,” Satine swallowed, “and ask him if he’d like to be there when I give birth.”

Padme sighed.

“Please, Padme,” Satine begged, “he won’t talk to me.”

“Alright,” Padme agreed, “but I don’t know what he’ll say.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, Padme,” Satine gasped, “you’re such an angel.”

“Good luck with the Federation heads, Duchess,” the Senator warned, “they can be stiff.”

“I will, Senator,” Satine smiled, “thank you, thank you a thousand times over.”

The Duchess’ dress weighed more than any dress should. Four ladies had to carry it into her room on a stretcher. It seemed that every blue crystal owned by the Mandalorian royal house was on that dress.

“How-” Satine began.

“Five pounds,” Waldie grinned, “and that’s without your tiara.”

Parna squealed.

“Let’s get you in it, Satine,” Khaami huffed, “it’ll certainly be a piece of work.”

“That it will.” Waldie agreed.

There were at least three layers of petticoats that Satine counted, then came the glorious masterpiece itself. A luscious royal purple silk resplendent as the stars with gems worth more than the Banking Clan owned all together.

“Ooph,” Satine huffed, “heavy.”

Waldie smiled, “Should I send for the royal jeweler?”

“Please.”

Khaami and Parna’s dresses were navy, modeled in the traditional style of ladies to the Duchess. Lord Eldar, Khaami’s husband, had given his wife their family jewels for the occasion. Parna ooed and awed. Parna, as head lady, wore the golden sash of service.

“They Royal Jeweler, Your Grace.” Waldie announced.

The old man bowed low, holding a wooden chest out before him.

“Your jewels, Your Highness.”

Parna gasped as Satine opened the treasure. Satine adorned herself with a diamond choker and pearls around her neck, and silver bangles on her wrists.

“Satine,” Khaami gasped, “I didn’t know you had such majesty.”

The Duchess giggled, “There’s more to come.”

The royal jeweler opened the box that Waldie was holding and pulled out a navy sash.

“The medals? Parna gasped.

“We’re putting on a show,” Satine explained as Khaami pinned on her medals, “and I intend to make the trade representatives quiver in their boots.”

“You certainly will.” Waldie assured.

“And now,” the Royal Jeweler gestured, “for the tiara.”

Satine’s eyes watered as she saw it, remembering her mother.

“The late Duchess wore this on her wedding day,” the Jeweler stated as if Satine had forgotten, “it was a gift for Queen Mara from King Zagreus the Second of Zygerria.”

It was gorgeously intricate. Silver, diamonds, pearls, and even some quartz glowed magnificent in the headpiece. Satine stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like an empress.

“Do excuse me, Your Highness,” the jeweler bowed, “I must prepare your nephew.”

“Thank you,” Satine nodded, practicing moving her head in the crown, “you’ve done me a wonderful service.”

“I can’t believe you invited the whole court,” Khaami grinned, “I haven't seen some of the clan leaders in years.”

“I know,” Parna agreed, “and we get to dress so fancily.”

Satine had forgotten that Parna was a little younger than her, they had become adults together, yet in many ways they were still young.

“I saw them raising the banners earlier,” Khaami cooed, “and I must say, the new crest is marvelous.”

“You know how I love lilies.” Satine smiled.

Parna slipped the Duchess’ comfiest navy flats on her feet.

“Ah,” Satine placed her hands on her stomach, “this is going to be a long night.”

“You’ve got this,” Parna huffed, “you’re the Duchess.”

“And the She-wolf of Mandalore.” Khaami added with a grin.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “I am.”

The Duchess was grateful her dress had a stiff back, it helped spread the weight evenly as she walked. Satine, donning her transparent shawl, met Korkie behind the doors to the grand hallway.

“Wow,” his jaw dropped, “don’t scare them, Lady Aunt.”

“I make no promises.” Satine winked.

Korkie himself was also dressed finely. Wearing his navy military uniform with a purple sash and medals to mark him as heir presumptive. He even had a ceremonial sword.

“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs,” Korkie nodded, disappearing down a side hall, “good luck.”

Satine smiled.

“Her Grace, Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Second of Her Name and Lady Krewella, accompanied by Lady Parna Supreis and Lady Khaami Eldar.”

The doors opened wide and Satine descended gracefully, a noble dignity caressing her features. It was so silent the only noise were Satine, Parna, and Khaami’s footfalls, but the Duchess knew it was just awe settling in.

The doors across the hall opened.

“His Grace, Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari.”

Those who weren’t enthralled by Satine swiveled their heads to Korkie, who kept a steady pace walking down the hall as he was trained to do. When Satine reached the bottom of the stairs, she straightened her shoulders and waited. Then, holding out her hand as Korkie came close, allowed herself to be escorted to her throne.

As she sat, Satine scanned the crowd, there, at the back, were the Trade Federation representatives. An aide whispered to them and proudly, the representatives came forward, their circle of assistants around them.

“The Honorable Trade Federation Ambassadors lead by Trai Dee.”

Trai Dee, a man dressed in gold robes, bowed low before Satine. All his minions followed.

“Mandalore welcomes the Trade Federation with great reverence,” the Duchess announced, smiling, “we look forward to working to ensure the benefit of both our systems and set an example to the galaxy.”

“The Trade Federation thanks you for your welcome, my Great Lady,” Trai Dee raised his head, “we come with the righteous goal of acting as a beacon of humanly grace in wartime, and are grateful for Your Highness’ sentiments.”

“I appreciate the Trade Federation’s noble quest, and am most grateful for your time,” Satine looked up to face the court, “Mandalorians, shall we treat our guests with all our system has to offer?”

Cheers went up from the crowd, and a low rumble began as the drummers warmed up their tambors. The dance floor cleared, Satine stood, so did Trai Dee.

The Duchess walked down to the Ambassador, “I would be honored if you would join me for the first dance, Your Honor.”

“It would be my pleasure to accept, Your Grace.” Trai Dee agreed.

They danced La Mandalorra, and old Mandalorian waltz performed only to drum beats.

“Senator Amidala never told me you were such an exquisite dancer.” smiled Trai Dee.

“Thank you for your compliment,” Satine smiled, “I do hope you will enjoy the way we do things here.”

The Ambassador grinned back, “I happen to like grandeur and courtly rigour, Your Grace.”

Satine laughed, “Then you’ve come to the right place.”

The Duchess twirled, her dress spooling out around her. Then, she faced Trai Dee, who got down on one knee and kissed her hand. Applause arose, and the Ambassador stood as more people joined the dance floor. Khaami, Parna, and Korkie all danced with Ambassador Dee’s aides while Satine and her partner danced the second song.

“If I may,” Satine began, “I hope you will excuse any dealings you had with my former Prime Minister.”

“It’s quite a terrible thing,” agreed Trai Dee, “I am just glad he is in custody.”

“So am I,” Satine tried not to frown thinking of Almec, “Senator Amidala was a huge help to us.”

“The Senator is a gift to us all.” Ambassador Dee nodded.

The second song finished and Satine curtsied.

“Do excuse me, Ambassador, I must see to my ladies.”

Khaami and Parna nodded at their partners and left to join Satine.

“Is anyone here I should know about?” Satine whispered.

“The Wrens are here,” Parna stated, “but I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“I saw a jetpack flying in the distance,” Khaami quivered, “but I have scanned the room and can’t see anyone we affiliate with Death Watch.”

Satine scanned the room as well, smiling slightly as she saw Tristan and Korkie, but then returned to her goal. After a minute she was satisfied.

“Accompany to visit Jaru, our Prime Minister,” Satine instructed, “I don’t believe you’ve met her yet.”

“I have.” Khaami grinned.

“Still,” Satine linked her arm through her lady’s, “you are married now.”

The Prime Minister was standing with some trade aide, who all regarded Satine and her ladies politely.

“Your Grace,” Jaru Djarin bowed, “you throw a splendid party.”

“It’s all in honor of our guests,” the Duchess smiled, turning to the aides, “Mandalore is thrilled to have you here.”

“We are happy to be here,” an aide responded, “Your Highness is very kind.”

“Well then,” Satine smiled pleasantly, “I hope to see you enjoying yourselves.”

Next, the Duchess made her way to Korkie, who was conversing with Mandalorian noble children his own age.

Tristan saw her first, and bowed, “Your Grace.”

“Aunt Satine,” Korkie grinned, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

The Duchess raised an eyebrow, “This song is coming to a close, Korkyrach, and I wore my good shoes.”

Sabine Wren snorted at that.

“Lady Aunt,” Korkie handed his cup to Tristan and held out his hand, “would you do me the honor of joining me in the next dance.”

“Why, Korkie,” Satine placed a hand to her chest, “I would simply adore that.”

The Duchess let her nephew lead her onto the dance floor. The musicians began, and Satine twirled.

“I never thought I’d have to speak pleasantly for so long,” Korkie whispered, “I met a couple of the Ambassador’s aides, our conversation was practically a minefield.”

“Minefield?” Satine asked.

“They of course have ties to both sides,” Korkie explained, “but I got the impression they resented your friendship with Auntie Padme.”

“I see,” Satine’s eyes narrowed, “and did they mention the Ambassador’s feelings on the matter?”

The Duchess spinned, returning to get Korkie’s answer.

“I think they feel we are more Republic-leaning,” the Duke of Sundari answered, “but an aide, Jaira Deere, said that the Viceroy would be pleased if Mandalore stayed neutral, and of course, that’s who they represent.”

The Duchess curtsied, the Duke bowed.

“You’ve been very helpful, Korkie,” Satine straightened, “let me introduce you to the Ambassador directly, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

On her nephew’s arm, Satine went in search of Ambassador Dee. She found him talking with Ursa and Alrich Wren of all people.

Alrich saw them first, “Your Highness, Your Grace.”

Trai Dee turned around with a tense smile on his face, and Satine wondered if this visit was as much informational as it was to strike a deal and make money.

“Your Highness.” he bowed.

“Ambassador,” the Duchess smiled sweetly, “allow me to introduce you to my nephew, the Duke of Sundari.”

Dee bowed, “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.”

“The pleasure is all ours, Your Honor,” Korkie extended his hand, “Mandalore is grateful for your visit.”

The Ambassador shook Korkie’s hand, “We’re glad to be here.”

The Duchess made some pleasant compliment about Korkie’s schoolwork and then excused herself, promising she’d return soon.

Satine was glad to find Tristan standing relatively alone, watching Sabine dance with a Saxon Lord.

“Lord Wren, may I speak with you?”

Tristan bowed, “Of course, your Grace.”

Satine lowered her voice, “I missed you and Mara’s sixteenth birthday.”

The boy’s eyes saddened, “I thought you forgot.”

“I couldn’t,” the Duchess tried to keep her tone even, “I was there you know.”

“Mara, and I met up for fifteen minutes in a shady part of town,” Tristan grinned at Satine’s expression, “we had coffee and commed Korkie and Tyra.”

The Duchess gave a small smile, “Well, tell your family that they’re invited to breakfast tomorrow with Korkie and my ladies. I’d like to give you your present.”

Tristan perked up, “I would love that.”

“I’m glad.”

Tristan bowed and Satine meandered through the ballroom until she returned to Korkie and the Ambassador.

“Your nephew is quite inquisitive,” Ambassador Dee’s eyes sparkled, “it’s refreshing to see one so young care about politics.”

“I feel that way as well,” Satine wrapped an arm around Korkie, “my nephew makes for a good Duke.”

When it came time for dinner, a bell rang and two grand doors opened into the dining hall. Pride filled Satine’s features, her decorators had done a marvelous job.

As usual, Korkie pulled out his aunt’s chair and pushed her in as the rest of the guests were sitting down. Parna, Khaami, and Korkie were all sprinkled at the head of the table near the Ambassador and his aides, along with the heads of Clean Saxon, Wren, and Bralor.

Near the end of the table sat Count Vizsla, looking unusually uncomfortable. Duchess Satine, when she wasn’t conversing with the Ambassador or eavesdropping on conversations, spent her time watching him. When the meal concluded, she noticed that Count Vizsla, instead of returning to the ballroom, took a wrong turn at an intersection.

“Follow Count Vizsla,” Satine instructed Korkie, “and take Parna with you.”

The rest of the evening was spent back in the ballroom. No one was dancing now, but instead couches had been moved into the room and the musicians were playing quietly as cocktails were served.

“Do tell us, Your Highness,” spoke up a make aide, “how neutrality has managed to keep your system stable.”

“It’s been quite a journey,” Satine responded, “but war is intolerable to civilization, it wreaks havoc in unseemly ways that destroys all the good society works for.”

“And yet you take support from the Republic.” a female aide countered.

Satine raised an eyebrow, “We’d be willing to take support from the Separatists if they were kind enough to not block our trading lines.”

“Jaira,” Ambassador Dee interjected, “we will not let the war interfere with politics where it is not needed.”

Slowly, the guests approached Satine and thanked her for such a splendid party, and ever the esteemed hostess, the Duchess replied that she was happy to provide her service.

Parna and Korkie returned about an hour later, Parna pulled her lady aside.

“He confessed that his son made contact with him and spilled all of Death Watch’s plans to spoil the event, he’s in custody now.”

Satine smiled as if this were happy news and thanked Parna with a knowing look.

When it came down to only a few people left, Satine asked her guests if they wished to retire.

“My ladies will direct you to your rooms,” the Duchess gestured, “please know that your comfort is our first concern.”

Ambassador Dee bowed, “Thank you, Your Grace, sleep well.”

As the musicians packed up, Satine found Korkie and Tristan struggling to keep their eyes open.

“Get rest, boys,” the Duchess instructed, “we have big days ahead.”

Confession time, Satine took the elevator to her rooms. Korkie came up with her.

“We can’t have you falling asleep on the job, Lady Mother.” he teased quietly.

As Parna and Khaami were still attending to their guests Korkie sat his mother down and took off her shoes.

“You don’t need to do this, Korkie.” Satine smiled sweetly.

“I take of my siblings,” the Duke grinned, “I’m the oldest.”

That made Satine’s heart melt, and she felt safe enough to ask about whether or not Korkie would meet his father.

The Duke paused, “I’d still rather not, but maybe one day.”

The Duchess nodded and held out her arm to help her son up.

“Get some rest,” she advised, “Tristan and his family will have breakfast with us.”

Korkie winked, “Fun.”

“Go on now.” Satine shooed.

It took a half an hour to remove all of Satine’s jewels and place them in the appropriate boxes. It then took a further two trips for Khaami to return them all to the Royal Jewel Room while Parna undid Satine’s heavy gown.

“I can’t believe you’re still wearing corsets in your second trimester.” the lady admitted.

“I’ve done it before with twins,” Satine stated, “and we have Hera now, if you’re worried.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Parna agreed, handing Satine her nightshift, “I think things will be much easier now.”

When Khaami and Parna woke Satine up the next morning, the Duchess felt drained. She had a headache and her back and shoulders hurt from carrying the weight of last night’s dress.

“We have to spread our vile mixture on your sheets, remember,” Khaami whispered, “to stop the rumors?”

With a groan, Satine nodded.

“Come on,” Parna goaded, “your dress will be lighter today.”

Her dress was lighter that day. She wore her dress embroidered with the Mandalorian star system. The corset that had been added wasn’t as stiff, but Satine wore heels and a sash to distract from the fact that she had gained some weight. Then, while Parna did up her hair with lilies, Khaami spread Satine’s fake blood on her bedsheets.

“I’ll dip some on your nightdress too,” the lady added, “it’ll make it more convincing.”

Before heading downstairs, Satine fished out two plain-looking keycards.

“What are the presents?” Khaami asked.

“Palace entry cards,” Satine blushed, “so they can come see me and have access to the kitchens.”

Parna snorted. The main breakfast was served in the dining hall, but Satine went to a private room where Korkie was happily chatting with the Wrens.

“Duchess,” Ursa grinned, a gleam in her eye, “you were resplendent of our sun last night.”

“Thank you,” Satine blinked, “but tell me, how is the food this morning?”

“Delicious!” Sabine clapped.

Alrich shot her a look. Tristan snorted.

“Uh, I mean, delicious, Your Grace.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Satine smiled, sitting down, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen your family, Ursa, how are you all?” “Well, thank you,” Ursa nodded, “though Sabine had a question about Pre Vizsla.”

Satine raised an eyebrow.

Sabine shrunk, “Word travels fast.”

“Ah.”

Was Sabine friendly with the Death Watch? She’d have to ask Tristan. Korkie then took up the conversation to ask about Tristan’s schoolwork, which the Duchess found greatly interesting.

“Top of the class this semester,” she smiled, “really?”

“Yes,” Tristan blushed, “and I intend to study genetic engineering.”

“How interesting.” Satine looked to Khaami, a smile on her face.

At the end of the meal, while Ursa and Sabine excused themselves, Khaami, Parna and Alrich were clearing the plates, Satine turned to her sons.

“Korkie, give us a moment, will you?”

Standing, the Duke of Sundari winked at his brother and left.

“Tristan,” the Duchess held out the cards, “this gives you access to anywhere in the palace, one is for Mara, but I’d like you both to come and go as you please.”

Tristan was flabbergasted.

“You will be able to access the kitchen, yes,” Satine smiled, “and anything in the med lab.”

Tristan took the card, hand shaking, “Thank you, Lady Mother.”

“Happy sixteenth birthday, Tristan Kryze,” Satine kissed her second son’s head, “to you and your twin sister.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around his mother.

“May I come in now?”

Satine laughed, “Of course, Korkie.”

“I’ll ask Mara to come this weekend,” Tristan said, excited, “does this mean we get wine cellar permission?”

Korkie snorted, “I’m not even allowed down there.”

Satine leveled him a look, “And you shouldn’t be.”

Tristan turned to Korkie, “Don’t worry, bro, you’ve got me now.”

A small knock bounced off the door. It was Ursa Wren.

“The meeting room is prepared, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Satine stood, “for all your help.”

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #obiwan #satine x obiwan #korkie kenobi #korkie kryze #Duchess Satine #satine kryze #fanfic #mandalore

17 notes · View notes

krogans-give-the-best-cuddles · 4 years

Text

God the sequel trilogies outfits are so fucking lackluster. Like it was like “I put them in clothes and those clothes may remind you of the star wars universe.” and they called it a day.

I’m not even asking for the grandeur of Padme’s wardrobe (altho it was kickass) I’m talking about like basic design here.

Good costume designers have the clothes reflect the character, and every change to that character.

In the prequel trilogy, we have that. In the first movie we have Padme, her outfits are wildly formal, traditional, expensive, and not shape hugging. This is because she’s a queen (needs to be traditional and formal) and she needs to be able to switch out with her handmaidens (if you show form and skin there’s more signs that that’s not really you.) They did world-building to center the costuming in the world*.

In the second movie, Padme is no longer queen and is able to express herself more. In the first half we see she still is formal in her appearances as a senator. In the second we have her really relaxing as she gets to know Anakin. She literally lets her hair down more, she wears brighter colors, she’s having a good time, mostly, and that’s reflected. More world-building is done too, one of her outfits they designed with sci-fi personal protection tech in mind.

In the third, Padme is hiding her pregnancy and slowly becoming more concerned about the state of politics and the world, and her relationship. She wears formless dresses again (to hide her stomach), and wears darker colors in general that reflect her mood.

This happens with Anakin too, if you watch his growth from 2 to 3 (I’m not counting 1 since he is just Little Boy then), you can see his change in his outfits. At the beginning of 2, he’s wearing beige, matching Obi Wan mostly. And he’s trying to stick to traditional Jedi beliefs. As he gets closer to Padme, he starts wearing darker browns. At the end of the movie, after he commits genocide, he wears all black and is incorporating leather, which is a clear nod to Vader. For the entirety of 3 he is all in black and still often incorporating leather.

In the sequel trilogy... the only kind of character shifts are the most basic. Poe isn’t getting in his x-wing, so he’s wearing something that isn’t his flight suit. Finn is wearing Poe’s jacket because they’re close. Rey is wearing black in her nightmare bc that’s what sith wear. That’s it. There’s no character arcs to follow (except perhaps Kylo Ren’s and his mask, and that is 1 character and 1 item. very minimal) so there’s nothing to match the designs to.

This isn’t to say there’s no costume design, but that the costume design is completely lackluster and is part of the reason the movies feel disjointed and weird.

*A lot of Padme’s outfits incorporate items from different cultures in different ways. For example, the queen’s makeup is pretty much just ripped off of ancient Chinese makeup, and taken away from that context and given new context. They don’t do this solely with non-white cultures (one dress is based on Russian ballgowns for example, her wedding dress is based on Edwardian English wedding dresses for another) BUT that doesn’t necessarily absolve them of criticism, esp bc the majority of what they’re taking is from non-white cultures. There is definitely a thing of them taking things white Americans are likely to see as “different” in order to make it seem more space age, changing their contexts to fit their world better, and instead of making the styles and fashions normal and giving them their proper due, they are exoticizing them.

Obvs we all have to take inspiration from somewhere, but I do think it’s valid to critique where that comes from, why we’re using it, and what effects that could have. I don’t want to talk about the good ways Padme’s outfits affect story telling and then just ignore the elephant in the room here

#star wars #fashion #just thinking about costume design....#padme #anakin #prequels #sequels

65 notes · View notes

10-porgs-in-a-trenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Foxiyo Week: Fearless

@foxiyoweek

[This entry takes place in a happily-ever-after AU, approx. five years after Palpatine is exposed and removed from power]

When he was a soldier, there was very little in his day-to-day duties that scared Fox. Fear of blaster fire, explosions, blood, violence, injury, and death had been conditioned out of his psyche during his training. As a result, he had considered himself fairly unflappable. But then he fell in love, and with that love came fear of heartbreak and fear of loss. And when he and Riyo learned they were expecting a baby, another fear came to him: that he would not be a good father. Then the day came when he held his newborn daughter for the first time, and his love for her greatly outweighed his fears.

At four years old, little Mira Chuchi was almost a perfect mix of her parents. She had her mother’s blue skin and crescent-shaped markings on her cheeks, and her father’s deep brown eyes and curly black hair. At first Fox worried that she would age quickly like he did, but by both human and Pantoran metrics she was aging at the same rate as any other natural-born child from either species. That brought him relief, since it meant she could have the normal happy childhood he never got.

“Tell me a bedtime story, Papa?” Mira asked once she was settled into bed, snuggled up under the covers. Fox sat perched on the edge of the bed next to her and she looked up at him with big bright eyes. She clutched a stuffed tooka plushie in her arms.

“I would love to,” Fox responded. He wracked his brain, trying to think of a story to tell. His mind settled on one event from his life, from before Mira was born, and he quickly thought of a way to translate it into something child-friendly.

“Once there was a soldier, one of the bravest soldiers in the entire Republic. He always did the right thing and helped people and stopped every bad guy he crossed. One day a giant monster came to Coruscant and terrorized the city. Rawwrrr!” He let out a roar and raised his hands into claws before diving in to lightly tickle at Mira. She giggled in response to being tickled.

“The monster was big and scary, and it tried to eat the people in the city. It tried to eat a little girl, but the brave soldier swooped in and saved her just in time! Carried her away and gave her back to her mom. And he saved many more people from being eaten too!”

“Did the soldier beat the monster?” Mira asked innocently.

Maybe it was best to lie a little bit, he thought, for entertainment’s sake. She didn’t need to know that in reality he had been hit in the face by the Zillo Beast’s claws.

“Yes, he did. All by himself. He shot a cable and tied it around the monster’s legs, and it fell onto the ground!” He slapped his hand onto the bed for dramatic effect. “And then … then he stunned the monster and loaded it onto a starship and flew it to a far away planet where it could live with others of its kind. Then the soldier returned to Coruscant and was rewarded for being the bravest and most fearless soldier in the entire galaxy.”

Mira narrowed her eyes in a skeptical scrutiny. “That’s not your best bedtime story, Papa.”

Fox stifled a laugh. She was just like her mother.

A laugh came from the doorway of the bedroom, and Fox turned to see Riyo standing there. She leaned against the doorway, dressed in her burgundy-and-gold skirt and jacket that she often wore to the Senate. She must have just gotten home from work, Fox thought.

“Momma!” Mira squeaked excitedly. She sat up and looked up at her mother with a toothy grin.

“Hello, my baby,” cooed Riyo as she walked over to the bed and knelt beside her daughter.

“Papa told me a bedtime story about the bravest soldier and a monster!”

“I heard,” said Riyo as she smoothed a hand over the top of Mira’s hair.

“Apparently it wasn’t my best work,” shrugged Fox.

Riyo chuckled. “Well since Mira’s going to sleep you’ll have plenty of time to think of a better one.” She turned her attention back to Mira. “If I’m home when you go to bed tomorrow I’ll tell you a bedtime story, how’s that?”

“Okay Momma,” said Mira. She lay back down, snuggled into her pillow, and Riyo drew the covers back over her to tuck her back in.

Riyo then leaned in to kiss Mira on the forehead. “Sleep tight, my baby. I love you.”

Fox then gave Mira little kisses on her cheek and forehead. “Love you, starlight. Good night.”

“Good night. Love you Momma, love you Papa.”

Fox then followed Riyo out of Mira’s room, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. The two went to the living room; as Riyo plopped herself down on the couch and leaned back, Fox went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. On his way back into the living room, he caught his reflection in a window by the dining table. He went back and forth on how he felt about the streaks of gray hair around his temples; it was a sign he was getting older, which shouldn’t have surprised him, yet he counted himself lucky that he was going gray rather than bald.

“You’re the bravest, most fearless soldier in the entire galaxy now?” Riyo asked with a smirk as Fox sat down next to her. She leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Well, every kid wants to think their dad’s a hero,” answered Fox as he poured out the wine. “Besides, you should hear the stories Rex tells his kids!” He handed a glass to Riyo.

“How is Rex these days?”

“He’s doing great. He, his husband, and their kids will actually be on Coruscant next week, and I’m looking forward to Mira finally getting to meet her cousins.”

“That will be so wonderful, we haven’t seen them since their wedding.”

“I know,” said Fox wistfully, “and if we can also convince Bly and Secura to come around with their little one, it will really be a party.”

A brief beat of silence passed as they both took drinks.

“How was the Senate today? You’re home late.” Fox asked.

Riyo let out a deep, long sigh, then leaned her head on Fox’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her in closer to him.

“It’s like pulling teeth. There are still so many warmongers and Palpatine loyalists. Padme and I are doing everything we can to get them to come across and support Chancellor Organa’s efforts to rebuild worlds devastated by the war, but we’re getting nowhere.”

“Maybe I resigned too soon,” said Fox, “if I were still with the army I could inspire them to cooperate. Or I’ll call Wolffe and ask him to pay them a visit.”

“Tempting, but don’t worry about it. Diplomacy will win.”

“I know it will, you and Amidala are the best of the best.” Fox pressed his lips to Riyo’s forehead.

“I just wish things would work out, I feel like I barely get to see Mira anymore. I know Padme’s missing her babies too.”

“This won’t last forever, things will be normal again one day,” said Fox, trying to sound reassuring. “But we can figure out ways for you and Mira to spend more time together until then. She knows the work you do is important, but she misses you too.”

Riyo craned her head upward to brush her lips against Fox’s jaw. “You’re such a wonderful father. Even better husband.” She snuggled back into him and wrapped an arm around his torso.

Fox smirked and rubbed his hand up and down Riyo’s arm. “Careful, keep talking like that and I’ll get to work on making Mira a big sister,” he said mischievously.

Riyo sat up and looked him dead in the eye. “I was actually thinking about asking you if you wanted to try for another child soon. We’d have to talk more about it in depth, I just want to know if we’re on the same page first.”

“Definitely.” He grinned from ear to ear. The thought of having another baby made his heart swell with joy.

The two leaned towards each other, meeting with a kiss in the middle. They then remained in place, their foreheads resting against one another.

“I love you so much,” Riyo murmured. “I’m so glad I have you.”

“I’m luckier to have you. I love you from now until the end of time.”

Riyo smiled and reached up to cradle his face in her hand. She kissed him again.

Later that night as he drifted off to sleep, Fox thought about how the past five years had been beyond anything he ever anticipated. The war ended after Palpatine was discovered to be playing both sides for his own gain, and he was ousted from power and held prisoner by the Jedi. (The Jedi kept him locked up somewhere hidden and were annoyingly secretive about their reasons for it, and they managed to stonewall the Senate at every turn, but that was a headache for another day)

The Republic and the Separatists had a peace treaty and were cordially frosty towards one another in their joint efforts to rebuild worlds hardest hit by the war. Most importantly for him, the Senate voted to grant clones full legal personhood. He resigned his commission without a second thought and asked Riyo to marry him. Miracle upon miracles, she said yes.

He thought back to his days as a cadet on Kamino, how his younger self could never imagine a future where he was husband to a brilliant Senator and father to a wonderful little girl. None of his brothers likely anticipated a future where they could choose their own paths, but the ones who survived the war could. Rex had his husband, kids, and a farm on Alderaan; Bly had Secura and their child and a quiet life on Ryloth; Cody and Wolffe were still in the army but they had fulfillment and a newfound sense of purpose; and his brothers in the Coruscant Guard either transferred to private security work or went to trade schools and universities. He was happy for all of them and prouder than he could put into words. It was better than the best that he once hoped for them. It was what they all deserved.

As for Fox … he had everything he ever wanted since the day he realized he was in love with Riyo. He couldn’t ask for anything else.

#foxiyoweek2020 #foxiyo #riyo chuchi #commander fox #clone wars #star wars

30 notes · View notes

anakin-skybreaker · 3 years

Text

A Brief Analysis of Clone Wars Characters Via Knights Radiant Orders

Ahsoka Tano:

It’s been stated that the Edgedancers are the most religious of the Knights Radiant orders. Faith, I believe, is a cornerstone of Ahsoka’s character; faith in the Jedi Order, losing that faith and gaining it in herself, not to mention her faith in Anakin.

A good chunk of her character arc is centered around the common man, learning the plights of the disenfranchised and living up to what the majority of people believe Jedi to stand for without the restrictions of political alignments. Edgedancer ideals fit Ahsoka’s overall arc.

Second Ideal: “I will remember those who have been forgotten.”

Third Ideal: “I will listen to those who have been ignored.”

Edgedancers have the ability to ignore friction which I feel would be well-suited to Ahsoka’s fighting style.

“...they were elegant things of beauty. They could ride the thinnest rope at speed, dance across rooftops, move through a battlefield like a ribbon on the wind.” – Edgedancer, page 4.

“When Simol was informed of the arrival of the Edgedancers, a concealed consternation and terror, as is common in such cases, fell upon him; although they were not the most demanding of orders, their graceful, limber movements hid a deadliness that was, by this time, quite renowned…” – Words of Radiance, page 20.

Captain Rex:

This might be a controversial choice considering what we know of clones, but Rex is a bondsmith. Sure Honor is a whole, veritable, god on Roshar but Rex is a bondsmith and you can pry that from my cold dead hands.

What do I have for evidence of this? Why, the Second Ideal of course.

“I unite instead of divide. I will bring men together.”

Rex watching his brothers being forced to break their oaths of honor and kill their spren all for Palpatine’s agenda. That hits different, bro.

Honestly, I don’t think I need to go any further but for the sake of it I will.

Having a clone, who many consider to be less than, climb the ranks and become a must in terms on long term warfare just feels good. Long story short, Rex is irreplaceable and he deserves an order which maximizes how irreplaceable he truly is.

Commander Cody:

Here we have our first windrunner proper.

Cody is a good man, a loyal man, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suffer the same ideological differences and hypocrises that plague the Republic. The side he serves condemns slavery and yet he himself and his millions of brothers are a slaves. He is a tool for war yet trying to bring peace. He fights to end the war and yet the Republic refuses to open peace talks.

He’d be the closest to Kaladin, in terms of practically everything; Cody is a child of Honor.

Cody knows how the universe works so he settles on his own code of honor. He will protect those who cannot protect themselves, regardless of his personal feelings toward them. He knows he can’t save everyone, but what’s most important is that he try. Somebody needs to.

Padme Amidala:

Like Rex, Padme would be well-suited to the bondsmiths. She aims to unite instead of divide. But given her role in TCW, however, and her role as the one who steps up to call out people and be the one to spend her life trying to better society, Padme is an elsecaller.

She’s a diplomat at heart, individualistic and esoteric. Padme follows her own logic and goes out on the front line when she deems it necessary. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what Anakin or the Jedi or the Republic says, Padme abides by her own moral compass and what makes sense to her.

“...the Elsecallers were prodigiously benevolent, allowing others as auxiliary to their visits and interactions; though they never did relinquish their place as prime liaisons with the great ones of the spren…”

She is a senator who creates connections between peoples.

Queen Padme Amidala and Queen Jasnah Kholin, while having a lot of political differences and different approaches to warfare, would get along famously.

Padme contributes to the war effort by soulcasting food, medicine, and other necessary materials.

Anakin Skywalker:

Here’s where things get complicated.

If we’re going purely by plot, then Anakin is a skybreaker since that is one of the only orders that suit his personality which would still allow him to “fall to the dark side” while maintaining his oaths.

Also, I’m not going to slide past it. My URL is anakin-skybreaker for fuck’s sake. It would be a crime against nature for a man named Skywalker not to have gravitation manipulation like come on, he was born to fly.

It’s just too good, too fitting. I can also see Anakin saying some variant of Kaladin’s line in Words of Radiance, but during a version of the Rako Hardeen arc. “You sent him to the sky to die, assassin, but the sky and winds are mine. I claim them, as I now claim your life.” Though entirely separate, the two have roughly the same amount of melodramatic entrances.

On the other hand, if we’re going for what’s best for Anakin as a person then he’d be either a windrunner or a dustbringer (releaser). The Fourth windrunner ideal says more than I ever could. “I accept that there will be those I cannot save.” Anakin is fueled by ambition so there’s no way he wouldn’t make it to the fourth ideal and then be forced to come to terms with himself and his fears or risk stagnation (or worse breaking his oaths and killing his spren).

As a dustbringer, Anakin would be taught how to control and channel his destructive/violent impulses. Dustbringers get a bad reputation because of their capabilities for mass destruction and because of that shared prejudice, I feel that might help Anakin settle in even quicker than he would in the other orders. Like if he were a windrunner, Anakin would be forced to confront aspects of his personality and truly learn restrain and responsibility.

“Most Dustbringers were tinkers who liked to take things apart to see how they work.”

Dustbringer spren canonically love to break stuff. So, Anakin making friends with a spren that wants him to break stuff because it wants to know what’s inside? 10/10

Obi Wan Kenobi:

A lightweaver in personality and a windrunner in mentality.

It hardly needs saying that Obi Wan is an honorable man. It would come to the point where, even as a renowned lightweaver other people would make comments on it. How he’d be better suited to the windrunners, how “I could’ve sworn you bonded an honorspren” and stuff like that.

Lightweaver ideals are tailored towards the individual, but generally follow the pattern of admitting personal truths. Obi Wan has more than a few truths to admit to himself. He and Anakin would be having an argument, only for his liespren to chime in to call him out going, “mm, lies” and forcing the two to actually talk out their feelings.

He would be Grand Spymaster of the Republic. Obi Wan is already known as the Negotiator, so he’d arrive at the palace of a government he needs to win over for the Republic dressed to the nines, positively glowing, standing at imposing six foot five, where underneath the lightweaving he’s going on three hours of sleep, is wearing yesterday’s clothes, and hasn’t combed his hair in three days.

He’s a lightweaver, but for the life of me I cannot get the image of Windrunner Obi Wan vs. Skybreaker Anakin, battle of Mustafar style, out of my head because the concept of them both being able to control gravity while representing opposite ideologies slaps okay?

Plus, Obi Wan would look immaculate in Kholin blue.

Anakin being busy blowing stuff up, turning canons to dust while Ahsoka skates past him as if solid ground were made of ice cutting through squads of droids while Obi Wan wears the face of the enemy leader and convinces them to surrender? 20/10

Maul:

This one is a lightweaver too and for the same reasons as Obi Wan.

He’s a charismatic bastard and he’d used his abilities to their maximum destructive potential. Just like in Clone Wars, he’d topple governments and overtake civilizations from the inside out.

Lightweavers are not bound by honor so Maul can pretty much do what he wants so long as he’s able to admit truths about himself. Whether he’s successful in doing so remains to be seen.

An important sidenote, Maul has Nightblood.

Maul would have Nightblood and everybody would be in danger.

#ahsoka tano #captain rex #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #maul #darth maul #tcw #the clone wars #star wars #stormlight archive #radiants

28 notes · View notes

tennessoui · 3 years

Note

34. meeting at a masquerade ball au pls ✪ ω ✪

oh boy oh boy oh boy!!! did you know i cannot write snippets/short fics?? did you know i just wrote 1200 words for this ? strap in

34. meeting at a masquerade ball:

“I thought the point of these things is for rich people to give us money,” Anakin grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. He wants to reach up and adjust his mask but he can’t because last time he had, Padme had slapped his hands away and spent five minutes yelling at him under her breath about him ruining all of her hard work.

“It is,” Padme responds, smiling pleasantly at someone walking past. “The museum relies on these events to keep departments like yours funded well enough so that you can afford to go cavorting around the globe, exploring unstable ruins and giving me stress ulcers.”

“But don’t you think these guys won’t want to give us money if we can’t see their faces? I mean half the reason they do it is for the recognition.”

“Would it kill you to not think the worst of everyone, all the time?” she asks with a sigh as she turns to give him what he knows is a very judgmental stare from under her mask.

“I guess we’ll never know,” he responds immediately, uncrossing his arms just so he can reach up and fiddle with his mask. He keeps forgetting that he’s wearing it, it’s so light on his face. The black lace is sort of itchy, and it’s not really doing anything to actually hide his identity, but Padme had insisted. Padme had insisted on a lot of things tonight, most infuriating of them being that Anakin show up.

“I did not dress you in gold and black just so you could stand in the corner and complain, Anakin Skywalker. If I don’t see you out on the floor, making nice with potential donors in the next five minutes, I’m pulling your Peru trip.”

“Padme!” Anakin yelps. “You know that’s not--” but she’s gone in a whirl of blue fabric and Anakin is left alone to sulk. He snags a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and downs it in two swallows. Liquid courage as he moves out of his little alcove and into the main floor of the museum, turned into a proper ballroom for the evening.

He’d wanted to stay in tonight and do research for his next trip. He still needs to brush up on the language and customs, as well as relisten to audio clips one of his field interns had sent him yesterday. He’d had plans, Padme, and they did not involve being stuffed into a very stiff outfit that exposed more of his chest than he was comfortable exposing around his coworkers, Padme.

He smiles painfully at the coworkers he recognizes and wonders if he can just talk to them instead, if Padme would notice. She probably would. And with the Peru trip on the line, he can’t afford to play around here.

One more champagne flute. And then he’ll talk to a stranger. Is he getting paid to be here?

He looks around despairingly for a waiter, but they all seem to have unanimously decided to leave him high and dry, emphasis on the dry.

“Ah, good evening,” a voice says to his right and Anakin temporarily abandons his search in order to have what is going to be a very tedious and hopefully brief conversation.

Plans, Padme. He’d had plans.

And they had most certainly not involved impeccably groomed older men dressed in dark navy three-piece suits, holding out a glass of champagne to him. The man’s mask cut diagonally across his face, exposing one steel blue eye, a defined cheekbone and a jawline almost entirely hidden by a neatly trimmed beard.

Anakin accepts the flute almost as if in a dream. “Hi,” he says dazedly.

“You seemed to be looking for one of these,” the man says in a crisp British accent, gesturing with his own glass to the one in Anakin’s hand.

“I--yeah. Yes. Thank you.”

The man smiles at him as if charmed. Maybe the man has terribly low standards in conversational partners.

“I like your. Outfit.” Anakin says, which sounds very stilted but it’s also much better than what he first thought of saying, which is that he liked the way that the man’s shirt was unbuttoned just far enough to expose his collarbone to Anakin’s very greedy eyes.

“I wish I had had something in my wardrobe more worthy of the compliment,” the man responds, falling to stand next to him casually, as if settling in for a long chat.

Anakin’s plans for the night are rapidly shifting and changing before his very eyes. He’s not even mad about it anymore.

“You don’t work here,” he means to ask, but it comes out sounding much more like a statement. He takes a sip of his drink to fortify himself.

“Do I look so out of place?” The man, thankfully, laughs.

“No, no,” Anakin says quickly, and then even faster, “I just would have remembered you.”

One eyebrow raises in something like amusement, and Anakin wants to die. “Oh, you would have, would you?”

He’s not going to answer that. He’s already said enough. More than enough. Too much.

“You’re right, of course. I’m a writer. But I do spend much of my free time here.”

“A writer?”

“Oh yes, science fiction mostly but I’ve found the best science fiction novels take inspiration from our own world.”

“Anything I’ve heard?”

“Quite possibly,” the man nods, taking a sip of his own champagne. “I like to think I’ve done well for myself.”

Oh, so this man’s a donor. He almost wants to look around for Padme, to make sure she’s paying attention to him, but that would mean looking away from the man in front of him, and he doesn’t want to do that at all.

“And you?” the man asks.

“I’m an archaeologist. And archivist with the museum,” Anakin says, trying to think about how to phrase what he does without boring the man. It’s happened too often before with people Anakin’s interested in: they’ll ask him about his job and he’ll talk for so long that by the end of it, he’s single-handedly killed any hopes for a second date.

Not that this is a date or anything remotely like a date. But the principle is the same.

The man’s eyes have lit up, however. “That sounds absolutely fascinating. I would love to hear more.”

“You--you would?” Anakin asks, wrong-footed.

“Absolutely, darling,” the man says, the endearment gliding off of his tongue.

“It’s Anakin,” Anakin says, blushing a furiously bright red.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep by call--”

“It’s fine! That was fine, don’t apologize, please. Just. In case you wanted to know. My name.”

The man smiles then, and it’s beautiful. “It just so happens that I did want to know your name, Ahna-kin. And mine is Obi-Wan, but why should we stop at names? There’s so much more I’d like to know about you.”

“Yeah?” Anakin asks, feeling brave enough to put his hand on Obi-Wan’s--Obi-Wan’s--arm gently. “Like what?”

Obi-Wan covers his hand with his own. His fingertips are rough, or maybe Anakin’s feeling particularly sensitive at the moment. “Everything.”

#my fics #writing #this has NOT been read over or edited in any way the definition of hot off the press WHOOPS #i love masquerade balls as a plot device #use my body was ALMOST a masquerade ball and i cant remember why it wasn't honestly #asks #tomicaleto #thank you for the ask!!! loved this kinda wanna continue RIP #prompt fill

50 notes · View notes