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ddejavvu · 10 months

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Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

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forever--darling · 5 months

Text

the spoken code

summary: it's been six months within the temple & suddenly, you can't shake that this connection with anakin skywalker seems out of the ordinary, even among jedi, enough so you are prompted with a sign from the force itself, only eliciting more confusion & concerns.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 14.0k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, fluff, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, lots of plot development for these two, pre-angst

series masterlist | 03

Darkness, something you had become quite accustomed to for months. It was waning, though, you knew it; the comfort, the desire to lean into it until it swallowed you whole. It was dissipating day by day, being replaced by something else entirely, by someone else entirely. Yet, you still couldn’t understand it. This hold, this plan, the force had written out for the two of you.

The more you searched, meditated, and felt inclined to ask Master Obi-Wan, the more the answers seemed further and further from clear. What did they want from you? What did the higher powers of the world want? Why did you suddenly seem so important within the plays of humanity? You couldn’t know.

A light appeared, pulling you from your thoughts, seeming to be as loud as your lingering footsteps among the dark tiles. Near the end of the hallway, it glowed brightly, a soft blue, enticing you to move closer and closer.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice a mere echo among the long black walls and black floors. All that was in response to the wallowing silence was but the sound of a faint step off into the distance. One and then perhaps two.

That quietness loomed, and your chest tightened, confusion the only feeling you could grasp as you continued forward. Reaching for your belt, you found the spot empty where your lightsaber usually sat. As you peered down, you realized then, in the dim light alone, you weren’t in your robes either. The familiar tunic and pants are somehow gone. Replaced by a long white skirt that brushed softly along your bare ankles, paired with a tight long sleeve just as white. It was small along your wrists but comfortable, forming around you as a second skin.

Another faint step could be heard just off to your left. You turned quickly but were only met with the pitch black. Your pulse spiked. “Who’s there?”

Once again, the silence was the only response. Sighing heavily, you turned back to the bright light that remained floating within midair, dauntingly so, as if daring you to step forward. With no other sign in sight, that was exactly what you did. You walked forward, carefully until you were face to face with the bright light. With furrowed brows and eyes reflected by the strange orb, some feeling suddenly washed over. A need to stretch out your arm, to brush your fingers among it. A certain impulse that only grew.

With no Master to advise you over your shoulder or the tall chosen one to talk it over with, you couldn’t help but reach forward, fingers outstretched. With the smallest brush, a warmth appeared first in your fingertips and then among the empty space in your chest.

It took a second, no more, before the ball of light disappeared, erupting more so and soaking upon the walls before you. Your whole sight was washed over with brightness, and you couldn’t help but shield them, a wince falling from your lips.

A moment passed, and you felt almost afraid to drop your face from your elbow until you heard the lightest laugh. One far too familiar that it had caused your chest to tighten and almost skip. As you dropped your arm to your side, you gasped in surprise. Surprised to find the darkness completely gone but bathed in so much sunlight, all of which washed over cream and beige-colored pillars that towered above you, tangled among the thickest branches and veins stringed with white flowers.

“Grandmother,” the young voice laughed again, it filled with so much life. You had almost forgotten it once sounded like that.

You turned, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight before you. There within the arbor sat a small girl no older than eight, wearing a white long skirt and a long sleeve that matched your own. Her hair was long and pulled back out of her face in a low knot, small gold butterfly clips laced within the strands of hair. Her face was bare of any invisible scars, evidence of misfortunes. She was pure.

“What?” The older female voice came from the adult sitting close to the child, legs outstretched, long greying curls bouncing along her shoulders, “Y/N, my darling, are you saying you don’t believe me, the former queen?”

Grandmother.

The eight-year-old version of yourself giggled again, shaking your head with the uttermost oblivion, “No, it can’t be true. They couldn’t fly, at least not way up there.”

Your heart ached at the sight then, at the mere innocence that once reflected your skin in such oblivious happiness. Your Grandmother chuckled, that warm comforting sound you had forgotten about not long after she passed when you were no more than fifteen. A soft smile formed across her aging face, so much peace there and then as the sounds of Bakura echoed around the arbor.

“Shall I tell you another story then?” the former queen asked, only to have the young girl nod eagerly. “Alright, let me think for a moment?”

“Nona,” you interrupted, small eyes peering up through the arbor as if looking for what could only be invisible during that time of day, “The stars.”

“Which stars?”

“You know which one’s.”

The older woman chuckled, acting as if she didn’t for a mere moment only to cave at the sight of the small frown that filtered over the young princess’s lips. She, of course, knew which ones because they were the same stars who lined the window of your chambers every night. It didn’t matter how much the earth spun or the seasons changed; it remained in the same spot, unmoving, unaligned amongst the rest that moved with life. “Oh, you mean the Stars of L’âme?”

The Soul Stars.

The young princess nodded, her little head already filling with so many questions. You knew because it was the same expression you still got — furrowed brows and bottom lip tucked with ease between your teeth as you thought long and hard.

“My darling princess, I have told you that story many times before. You know how they came to be.”

“Yes, through a collision of energies in the form of pressure and heat.”

The former queen hummed in agreement, smile widening at the great memory her granddaughter proved to have, “And what makes them so special?”

“They formed outside of the stellar nurseries, but I just don’t understand it.”

“Understand what, my darling?”

That confused look only deepened, and you remembered fondly how the story you had forgotten until now went, the mysteries never quite aligning with reason. “How is it even possible?”

“Sometimes, even when things are possible, it doesn’t mean we are deemed worthy of knowing. Sometimes it is better for us not to know. Remember, what I told you about these stars. Though they formed outside of the stellar nurseries, they formed for a reason. A reason that only occurs every hundred years. Can you remember?”

Your heart skipped then at the thought, the memory forming behind your fuzzy mind that you hadn’t thought back to for years. The younger version of yourself smiled warmly at the thought, “Yes, every hundred years, two souls are chosen by whom we don’t know. When they are born, they seem connected just as the two stars in the sky.”

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

The young princess slumped for a moment, the story, the long winding details becoming a lot for her to handle. Even the version of yourself standing off to the side of the arbor found it difficult to understand then in your adulthood. It felt as if you were hearing it all over again for the first time, and as if the force, the stars themselves, wanted to relay a message, you reached up to lay your hand over your chest.

You hesitated, unaware of what it all meant, and your stomach twisted in nervousness.

“Nona?”

“Yes?” the former queen chuckled again as the questions never seemed to cease with the little one who found her head always up in the clouds, believing in the untouchable of everything she couldn’t see but feel.

“Why have the stars never aligned? The two never seem to find each other.”

Your grandmother’s smile remained stoic, but the lines around her eyes deepened. So much so that you found yourself pushing away from the wall of the arbor just to get a better view of it. Just as she went to open her mouth, sure to answer the young princess’s every question asked, another voice boomed from just off the steps of the arbor. “Mother.”

A figure emerged, and you felt your breath fall short upon your tongue, unsure of how to even react as the looming frame of the current queen and your mother stepped within the arbor, eyes narrowed down at the sight of you cross-legged in front of the older woman.

“Mom,” the young girl sighed, slightly disappointed that she had interrupted her grandmother’s answer.

Your feet suddenly stopped, and you felt stuck in the ground, peering over at the beauty that had been your mother. The queen of Bakura, the love of your father’s life. The very person he left the Jedi order to be with. The only woman to have ever held a light to his heart other than you. She appeared so young, only ten or so years older than you were now. In all the time without her, the days passing into nights, her face had blurred, the image of her having become so unclear over the years.

Pictures were limited, and suddenly graced with her presence after so long, you couldn’t help but finally accept that your father had perhaps been right when he constantly told you how much you reminded him of her. You were almost her spitting image, and suddenly that ache returned, fully, and you had to grasp even tighter to your chest, just wishing she would turn — would see you, look you in the eyes after so long.

“Y/N, go on, your father wishes to see you?” the cold tone brought you by surprise as this was something you couldn’t remember. This side of her.

“But—”

“Go,” the queen sighed, rubbing her temple.

The young princess shared a last longing gaze with her grandmother before running off. As soon as she was gone, your mother turned to her own as the former older queen stood from where she had been sitting on an orange-knit blanket. With her arms crossed over her chest and feet tapping impatiently along the wood of the arbor, you couldn’t help but step even closer, unsure if this part was a dream or rather something else, you somehow were being granted to see.

“Why do you have to go and tell her those stories?”

Your grandmother sighed, a look of disappointment appearing, “Stories? Is that what you see them as now?”

“That is what they are,” your mother argued.

The former queen tutted softly, frown deepening at the thought, “Does the king think so too? Your husband?”

“Don’t bring him into this.”

Your ears perked up at the mention of your father, him still so apparent and so clear to you that the mention of him hurt. Your mother’s eyes darkened while your grandmother only appeared so solemn at the sight of her own daughter’s frustrations. “How can I not? He felt it from the day that she was born.”

“Mother…”

“He is a Jedi, so don’t you dare diminish it. There is something entirely wonderful here, and you are so worried about hiding it.”

With parted lips, your eyes deepened, a weird feeling washing over you. You tried to lean into it, the force, your senses, but it seemed they had no ability here. Not on these two people who no longer were alive to think these current thoughts or recant them. Instead, you could only stand there and listen, feeling as if the world was ending with each and everything they said that seemed to dance around the conflict at hand.

Your mother sighed, that anger fading into nothing but almost sadness, in despair, “We don’t know what or if there is anything here, and I’m not going to put outlandish thoughts inside my child’s head.”

“So you are never going to tell her?” Nona asked, that shame in her daughter apparent more than ever.

Your mother didn't seem affected by it, not one bit, as she shook her head, glare still settled across her beautiful face, “There is nothing to tell.”

The coldness raked a shiver across your form, and as you reached out to touch her, your mother, the person you had trusted most in all your life, you felt the scenery fade, almost melting. You were ripped away by a force you couldn’t recognize, something heavy. A small yell fell from your parted lips as your stomach sank and your head spun with uncertainty. Before you realized it, you were bolting up, a heavy breath falling from your parted lips in surprise.

It took a matter of seconds to recognize where you were. The room was dark besides the light of the moons sneaking in through the windows kept untouched by the curtains. The sheet and blankets pooled around your frame near your waist as you were raked with unsteady breaths. Sweat gathered along your brow, and your throat was tight, and it suddenly seemed the weight of the world was falling upon you. So much uncertainty and confusion at the dream that pierced you. The images so clear so vivid, of Bakura, Nona, your mother — the memory that had to have been real as you stared back almost in a mirror of the past at a young princess completely blind to the future before her.

Wiping the sweat from your hairline, you pushed back your long hair from your face and eased your breathing down to a simple inhale and exhale. Silence once again encompassed the air around you, and you felt it all slowly start to swarm your mind, almost like a carousel sure to never stop its incessant turning. You knew the noises within your mind wouldn’t stop then, at least not for the rest of the night, so you pushed the blankets even further from your frame and stood from the bed.

Finding a robe to pull over your night-slip, you left your chambers, the door closing behind you with a gentle hiss. The temple was quiet and dark, night still gracing the city in peace. The floor was cold against your feet, but you didn’t care to go back and find shoes, not when it was somehow welcoming to the immense heat you had felt when you woke up. That discomfort still lingered as you walked the empty halls, unsure of what or where to go.

Far from your chambers, near the other end of the temple, you stumbled along a corridor that wasn’t familiar and often went unnoticed by many of the Jedi within the temple as it was much narrower than the others, void of many rooms within it. Feeling like you were called to go down it, you walked steadily until you came upon a windowsill sitting right next to a large window, expanding most of the opposing wall. Peering outside, a small sense of relief almost appeared at the sight of the city before you bathed by the dark sky decorated with far too many stars. The sky has always been able to bring comfort ever since you were a child.

It seemed that could have very well been because of Nona and her stories — the ones that surrounded the stars, the planets, the unseen forces you couldn’t begin to understand how she knew about. Sitting upon the windowsill, legs outstretched and robes spilling over the edges, you stared up while the visions from the night reappeared; reminding you just how much you yourself couldn’t get what any of it meant.

There was something strange that had happened that night. You didn’t want to admit it — not even as you had felt it as the weight of your body sunk deeply into the mattress of your bed. Your breathing had shallowed out quickly, not having known when the stars and the sky of Cruscant had faded into darkness. Into the most comfortable of darknesses soon to only be replaced. Replaced far quickly. Quicker than it ever had before, as if the universe was nullifying all the former pain that had been written in deep pen across your soul.

Peering up, you found the stars, the two that seemed to never escape you — both so bright, a strange tint of light blue, and just as you had imagined them to be, they were unaligned. The upper one slightly shifted towards the left, while the lower one favored the right. You knew then it appeared just the same as always.

What are you trying to tell me?

It was a silent ask, one that weighed quite heavy, so much so you hadn’t felt it.

That familiarity that seemed to follow you around wherever you went. Instead, he was given away by his footsteps, his shoes appearing much louder than your bare feet had been. Your fingers shifted upon your knees without even realizing, the air warming around them as the voice filled your ears.

“Hey,” it was gentle, soft, as if trying not to startle you.

At the immediate familiarity, a small huff escaped your lips, eyes closing for a mere moment at the awful timing. Then as your attention returned to your surroundings, the energy of him became just as apparent as it always had been. Sighing, you opened your eyes again and turned to look within the small corridor. He was leaning against the windowsill near your feet, having come from around the corner without you even noticing.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, just as softly back, as you took in his frame, unaware you even had been doing it.

His hair was slightly mousled from sleep, the skin around his eyes red as if he had been rubbing them. Long loose pants covered his lower half while a robe was tied quickly around his waist, but not tight enough as you were able to see the bare skin of his chest peeking through. You tried to ignore the sudden stir you felt just at the mere sight alone, hoping more than anything he couldn’t sense every single thought running through your mind.

Stepping closer, the light from the moon washed over him incandescently, and you scolded yourself internally for having even noticed. Especially now that most, if not all, the frustrations towards him had faded, forming into something else entirely.

He ignored your question, instead taking in your bare feet, which led to bar legs sticking out from your robe, that familiar quirk forming along his lips, “Can I sit?”

A second of hesitation, and then you were nodding, pulling your legs up closer to your chest to give him some room. He slid up across from you, his back resting against the opposite wall, his legs following. You tried not to stare so much as he got comfortable, but you felt your throat tighten slightly as his legs widened, leaving room for your own. The windowsill wasn’t long enough, leaving the outside of your legs to press along the inside of his — your bare skin able to feel the soft material of his pants and the warmth admitting from within them.

Stare sliding up his frame quicker than you would have liked, you found him already staring over at you intently, too much so that you began to fiddle with your fingers, almost willing to start picking at them but knowing better. You didn’t want him to see how nervous you truly were, whether it was because of your dream or him, though you weren’t really sure which was at the forefront of your mind.

His knee bumped yours enough to keep your eyes on his, and you felt your confines weakening slightly, even if that meant him getting to see just what you were feeling at that moment.

“You never answered my question,” you opposed, not willing to back down then wishing to see the way his expressions shifted, “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, almost like it was inevitable to tease you at least a little bit when that furrow appeared between your brows, “You’ve been thinking awfully hard for how late it is. Though I’m not sure what about. All I know is, it was hard not to feel how upset you were from only a few halls away.”

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, unable to hold it back, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

He laughed, unable to hold back at how cute you sounded swearing like that, and as he did, his knee bumped yours again. “No. I was already awake.”

That furrow deepend then, frowning at the mere possibility of him being unable to sleep as well. Able to read your features clearly, he sighed as if hesitant to admit it to you, though he knew the only way for the trust between you to strengthen was to be honest. You didn’t know him, not much past the sly smiles, the wit he was told by your dear master to keep to a minimum and the brief moments of softness he had displayed to you. Other than that, there wasn’t much else.

You two knew more about each other’s body language, the way their pulse quickened, or the feelingsound in the other’s head more so than the past, or much else. It hadn’t had the means to be brought up, not until then.

“I don’t sleep well anymore.”

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, slightly shocked as it seemed you had been so consumed in your own sleeping habits lately that you hadn’t been able to feel through your senses that he had been struggling too,

“My mother,” he explained softly, knowing now he would have to explain it all to you, “It was a vision or a dream, perhaps, I’m not really fucking sure. But somehow, she was in my arms, and she was dying.”

“Anakin,” you gasped, “How long ago was this?”

He shrugged, “A week or so ago. They’ve only become more frequent since then. These dreams of my mother.”

Your face softened, eyes widening slightly. His stare never wavered from your own as he reveled in your reactions. He had been holding it in for so long, silently dealing with this pain, this fear. You had only agreed to stay a month or so ago, and he didn’t want to do something that might weaken this sudden bond you two had seemed to have.

“Where is she now?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Tatooine.”

Your brows lifted then at the name of the planet, one of many you had studied immensely in your time of preparing to be queen. It required a lot from you, having to understand the political issues that overtook them all, their forms of government, and the allies and enemies of each. Upon hearing that name, you couldn’t have even imagined that Anakin had possibly been from Tatooine.

“Tatooine, so she’s…”

He nodded, “A slave? Yes. I was too. And then, when I was nine, I met Qui-Gon, and we struck up a deal. If I won the Boonta Eve Podrace, and he betted on me, he would have enough money to buy my freedom.”

“And you won?” you smiled softly, unable not to as this was the first time you were hearing about his childhood. A childhood that wasn’t perfect, was different than your own, but was him. It was something you had found yourself wondering about for months now; where was he from, what were his parents like, what kind of kid was he? All of these questions, you felt too afraid to ever ask — worried what the answers would be.

“And I won. Then he brought me here to train under Obi-Wan. It’s been ten years, and I’ve thought about her every day since I left. I promised I would go back for her, but…”

“The code,” you finished for him, cringing slightly at the thought.

Relationships and attachments were forbidden, even among parents and children.

“I would. I want to more than anything. I just haven’t had the opportunity. I know how fucking awful that sounds. It truly is—”

“Stop. It’s not. I get it,” you said cutting him off while also reaching forward without even realizing to place your hand on his knee. It was warm and reminded you so much of the day that he had taken your hand in his, the day he had convinced you to stay. The day he silently promised you he could be the one person to trust.

He traced the small touch with his blue orbs, one of the first touches you had ever initiated on your own. You bowed your head slightly, a flush appearing along your cheeks, suddenly second-guessing how natural it had all felt. Feeling inclined to retract your hand, a small smile appeared along his lips, one that was different than you had ever seen before. It was a look you wished to see for as long as possible, so you decided against pulling away.

“One day, you will rescue her. Promises aren’t taken lightly when it’s a Jedi making them. You meant your word, and I know at the first possible chance you will do as you say.”

He nodded, a calmness now falling over him he hadn’t been able to grasp since he had woken up in a cold sweat, panic seeping throughout his body, eyes unable to look or find anything to hold his attention long enough to forget about the crumpled form of his mother. Not until suddenly, you were sitting in front of him, touching him the way you were while saying all the things he needed so desperately to hear. He couldn’t help but react by covering your hand with his own, the warmth encapsulating the coldness of yours in a gentle squeeze.

“And what about you?” he asked, drawing your stare away from your joined hands.

“W-What about me?” you stuttered lightly, hating how something as simple as his hand could pull such a reaction out of you.

“Why are you awake? What has gotten you so worked up that I felt I had to come find you?”

Though he wasn’t wrong, you hated that he put it that way. As if he needed to come in and save you at every chance he got — all to silence the many demons that filtered in throughout your head. You didn’t like the thought, the idea of depending on him so much, that he could feel exactly what you were feeling. How much further would it go?

None of this made sense. The force didn’t make sense. Anakin didn’t make sense. The way he cared about you was too much, and sometimes you wished more than anything you could sever this connection with the hope that he didn’t have to feel so obligated to protect you all the time. That night and that dream only made it all worse.

If it were true, you didn’t know what you were going to do.

“Y/N?” Anakin asked, his thumb beginning to rub gentle circles on the back of your palm and you hated how your pulse began to speed up at the small action. He could sense your apprehension paired with the look in your eyes, the fear of saying anything at all.

“I—uh— don’t even know how to make sense of what tonight was.”

“Just try.”

You inhaled, that furrow returning between your brows and a hand running through your hair, unsure of how much you could even say. What did you even know? “I thought it was a dream, but now I think it might have been a memory maybe — something I haven’t thought of in years.”

“Okay…” he replied carefully, trying to communicate in every way that he was fully listening to whatever you had to say.

“I was somehow in Bakura within the backyard of the capital in our arbor. It was green and full of life and so, so beautiful. And Nona, my grandmother was there telling her stories, some that I always told myself to not believe. I was eight, sitting there just listening to every single thing she said. I forgot how young I used to be and so happy. I had never seen myself like that, and it was the strangest thing,” you laughed sadly, eyes glassing over slightly as the images of that night seemed to resurface, appearing just as they had been in the moment, “It was like I was even there, Anakin but almost a ghost, watching it all.”

Anakin, with his hand still wrapped around yours, was leaning forward, eyes never wavering as he listened and tried to make sense of it. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of you. As you met his eyes then, you felt your breath almost fall short at how intently he was staring.

Inhaling, that smile dropped slightly, “Nona was telling me some story about the stars. The Soul Stars, she called them. This one always felt different from all of the rest, as if everything she said was true. I was asking her a question about them, but then my mother appeared, and she sent me away to find my father. That was the last thing I could remember and where the memory should have ended, with me running off towards the capital, but it didn’t. Instead, I found myself watching them, the way they argued, about me, about something they were keeping from me. So, I don’t know if this was merely a dream or…”

“Or something else. Something the force could be trying to tell you,” Anakin finished your unspoken thought, your two expressions appearing so similar as you tried to realize what exactly could be occurring, between his dream and your own.

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it felt so real and so familiar. If I had known sooner, years ago, maybe I could have set this all straight, but my mother died not long after that, and now I can’t help but wonder. Wonder if she was hiding something? If m—my father knew.”

“It’s not crazy,” he said, hand loosening around yours, just enough for his fingers to intertwine with yours. He pulled on them gently. “Not at all.”

“How could any of this be possible?”

“Sometimes it just is. There’s no explanation, no possible reasoning. Impossibilities are possible until proven otherwise. Master used to always tell me that when I first became his Padawan. Being a Jedi, the ability to move things with your mind, know what others are feeling, thinking — none of it should be possible, and yet it is our reality.”

You hummed, peering out of the window once more at the pair of stars. Could it really be? Two souls connected so immensely. But what did that mean? Connected. What did any of it mean?

It was as if he could hear your thoughts then, and maybe he had because he was whispering your name so softly while pulling on your fingers again to draw your attention. Eyes finding his again, you melted slightly at the sight. The way his brows were raised, a look that was so warm reflecting off his face, and a slight lift of his lips.

“I feel like there could be something wrong with me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep, felt throughout your own chest as if it had been you who was the one who made the noise and not him.

That warm expression seemed to only deepen, forming into the most beautiful smile while he reached forward, his fist bumping lightly along your chin. You tried to ignore the way it lingered there for a second longer. “There is nothing wrong with you. That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”

“But—”

“But what?”

Holding back, you bit onto your lower lip, unable to say anything more. Because what else was there to say? What else, when you didn’t know everything there was to know? Other than the strange feeling you got within the middle of your chest and at the bottom of your stomach whenever he was around somehow dimming all the anger you once had to almost nothing.

“Y/N, you’re doing well. So well.”

“Anakin…” you trailed off, but he only silenced you with a narrowed look and another squeeze of your cold palm.

“Don’t try to diminish anything that I’m saying. You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Perhaps I’m just cautious. Waiting for something to happen or waiting around for the day that I finally fuck up, and become someone worth being disappointed in,” you explained, suddenly unable to withhold his touch, the way it could have muted every fear to ever appear within your mind — you felt unworthy of him, of his kindness then, enough so you pulled your hand away instead to pick at the skin around your nails.

He watched this, his stomach twisting with discomfort at your need to retreat, at your need to cause your fingers to bleed. “I wish you didn’t think that way.”

“Well, I’m afraid, Anakin. I don’t know how else to think of it. There is no other way to. I’m afraid of what I might do.”

You were staring down at your fingers, unable to look up at him, too nervous to, and in doing so, you focused on the loose skin around your nailbeds. Silence hung in the air as you pulled at the skin, enough for it to tear and start bleeding from how deep you truly had dug with your fingernail.

“Stop that!” he scolded, voice thick, deeper than you had ever heard it as he reached forward, yanking your hand away but back within his own. He stared at the blood, the way it flowed, sure to drip off your finger at any moment. “There is no need to be afraid. I will protect you. Since the first day I met you, I’ve known. Known that I could and always will protect you.”

The question was slipping from your parted lips as if he was pulling them from you. “Could you protect me even from myself?”

A moment, this prolonged pause of time stilled by the mere sound of his soft breath and the knitting of his brows. There was a small frown evident upon his pink lips, as if he was truly able to feel every insecurity, every ounce of fear that could be felt from your end; every inclination of uncertainty that flooded your body, your sole being. He could feel it all, and within that pause, those few seconds, his hand once again tight around yours he was filled with the most conviction you had ever seen

“I know it doesn’t seem like it all of the time, but I would do anything to keep you safe.”

How in a matter of months had it come to this? You weren’t sure. To see through your eyes what the two of you were, none of it could have been true, cruel intentions masked by the simplest affections. That’s what it had become. A lie behind your visions, distracted by his handsomeness and the mere enticingness that came from his smirk or the color of his eyes when they found yours from across the room. It could have not been real. That idea can’t be the most plausible but a figment of what you wish could be.

A Jedi shall not know anger.

Nor hatred.

Nor love.

You had experienced two in the span of a few weeks within your training, and now you couldn’t help but worry you would fall victim to the last as well. The last of the forbidden causes that came with being a Jedi. You couldn’t. Not when you had come as far as you did; in your training, in your ability to trust, in the ways of simple living that came with being one with the force. There wasn’t room for any more. There wasn’t room for Anakin Skywalker, and yet he was always there. Almost like a lightsaber to your hip, a protector as he claimed to be, but also the young man who would find ways to scare you, making you jump as he snuck up behind you. He also was the man who would tease you any chance he could as if the sight of you rolling your eyes or your brows furrowing was the only sight he wished to ever see.

He wasn’t insufferable as you once had deemed him to be and never cruel but thought of himself highly enough to still throw half-witted comments towards you anytime you were training even with Master present, more so if he was present. You thought he had been everywhere before, able to feel him all of the time, but that was minuscule compared to now, compared to how this connection had forged the two of you into the ability to feel so close it was as if you were sleeping next to one another. Sometimes, you swore you could hear his heart beating or the gentle lull of his breath, on rare occasions, he could actually sleep throughout the night. It was only on those few nights when he wasn’t with you.

It had become a habit, you had found, to be seated within the small corridor of the temple, sitting upon that damn windowsill, legs always pressed against one another. You had found you didn’t sleep well anymore either. It wasn’t even that you were having more visions, memories, or dreams but that you were kept up late at night by just the single mysteries of the one and how it seemed to coincide so much with how you felt about the young Skywalker.

A Jedi shall not know love.

And yet you found him to be breaking through every single resolve and healing the deepest parts of sadness you hadn’t even known were there. He made you happy, and that was the greatest weakness to have, even if it had made you a better Padawan, even as it had made you a strong Jedi.

It was so much easier when you were angry, you realized. When he had you burning from the inside out and willing to hit him with training sticks because it meant you didn’t know this. This feeling.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The voice was gentle but firm as his frame leaned over your back where you were sitting, lips close to the shell of your ear. He was far louder than he should be for the library. Leaning forward over your shoulder, his hand found the table while his waist pressed up against your back. Your breath stilled for a moment, the words in the book almost blurry to the point of no longer being able to read them.

It seemed he had found you, hiding away within the shelves of the library in the Jedi Temple. You were sat at a small table, a few books sprawled out, trying to make use of the minimal spare time you had before your next training session with master. With trials at the end of the year, there was almost no time in the evenings outside of meditation, or practices to really study the code or material. At least that’s what you had told yourself until he had appeared feeling so warm as he loomed over your frame.

You didn’t dare move but instead kept your position of sitting straight within the chair, eyes cast down at the book before you on balance and the molecular configurations of the force. It was difficult, though, as his hand and his eyes could be seen from your peripheral.

“Hello, Anakin,” you replied, a voice at a lower level, aware of the many other Padawans and Jedis that crowded other tables outside of between those two shelves.

He huffed, aware of your ignorance towards his previous statement, and instead leaned over further to get a look at the book that was open on the table. He let out the same noise when he realized what you were reading while his chest somehow was now brushed up against your neck and temple. You leaned away slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne that stuck to his tunics.

“What are you doing in here?” he grumbled as he pulled back from you and instead took a seat in the chair next to yours, but not without scooting closer to your side enough that his knee bumped yours every time his leg moved.

With his chair angled towards you, his elbow pressed up along the tabletop, you couldn’t help but peer over at him innocently, already making a note of the frustrations that filtered along his face as he leaned against his closed fist. He was already staring at you, and it made you raise a brow in interest.

“It’s the library.”

“Yes, I know that but we have like thirty minutes until our next training session with Master.”

“Which is why I am studying,” you said matter of factly.

“Y/N,” he whined then, louder this time, making you glance around the two of you suddenly embarrassed.

“Anakin, the trials are at the end of the year and I am behind.”

“You’re not that behind.”

You sent him a stern look, “You have been training to be a Jedi since you were nine, you know everything there is to know for the trials. I have at most a year to learn what you have gotten to learn in the last ten.”

“You know there is no fucking set timeline on when you need to become a Jedi, right? They hold trials every year. You don’t have to take them this year, which I am sure none of the council really would be expecting you to.”

Your throat tightened at the mere thought of being a Padawan without him, “I know that, but if I could take them this year, I would like to.”

He watched you intently the seriousness to which you said it, but as he sat there thinking, looking at you, he couldn’t help the thought that appeared. Or how it led to that smirk of his forming and that deadly glint that seemed to fill his eyes too often. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.”

“What?” you sighed, knowing even if you didn’t wish to entertain his advances, he would send them your way anyway.

“You’re worried about still being a Padawan when I pass the trials. Because then I could someday have the ability to be wise enough and be granted by the council to become a Master myself. Which means on instances where Master Obi-Wan won’t be able to meet you for lessons or training, he might ask me to fill in,” he teased, unable to hold back the steady chuckle from his chest at the mere thought or the look on your face that could only resemble both embarrassment and slight frustrations.

“Anakin.”

“It would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it. Me, Master Skywalker, with you, Padawan Y/L/N,” he shook his head, humming in satisfaction, “Now, that is something that would be fun.”

“First of all, you know that’s not plausible because Master would not ask someone else to train me in his absence, and second of all,” you paused, turning more towards him and leaning close enough that his eyes flickered across your features in interest, a look of playfulness of your own forming, “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” His tongue clicked along the inside of his cheek, a look of satisfaction forming enough for you to bow your head to peer back at the page you had reread at least twice already before he had interrupted you.

There were two seconds where you were able to find your initial place when, “So, are we getting out of here or what? I mean shit.”

You sighed then eyes finding his again but yours suddenly resembling a gentle glare.

“We have a half-an-hour. Let’s go do something fun.”

“You mean something that would get us into trouble,” you corrected, unable to stop the urge to do as he says. To close that book and leave it on that table just to follow him wherever he asked.

“Not exactly. Is that what I was referring to?”

You chuckled dryly, “They are one and the same, Anakin. Besides, you see me every waking moment of every day as well as at night. Aren’t you able to separate from me for at least thirty minutes so I can read at least two chapters?”

“Two chapters on the molecular configurations of the force. Seriously, this over hanging out with me? Really? I can say that doesn’t sound that fucking appealing. Plus, you’re wrong. I haven’t spent every waking moment with you because I didn’t see you last night. Or the night before.”

“I was sleeping,” you replied quickly, it sounding completely and utterly false the second it fell from your parted lips. Lips that had suddenly seemed to have Anakin’s attention. It made you shift within your seat, unsure if what you were seeing was actually real.

He chuckled again, his tongue poking within the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening slightly as matched your stare, “And now you’re just lying. I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s not quite a good look on you, so I’m afraid I am going to have to apprehend you from this boring ass library and take you with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him then, a smile forming on your lips, unable to hide any of it as he stood from the chair. A cocky grin accompanied that young handsome face of his as he barely glanced away from your form to close the book with a small thud.

“You’re ridiculous you know that.”

“No, I’m just better than you,” he said then, that smirk never ceasing as his stare once again flickered down to your parted lips smiling for him nevertheless, “Now, come on, I’ll make your time somewhat useful, and show you how to do my backspin with the lightsabers. Maybe, then you can get used to the idea of Master Skywalker.”

You didn’t have any more grievances then, only able to stand and follow him through the library, somehow at a loss of how something that felt like this could be so wrong in the eyes of the people who were deemed good.

“You’ve been doing very well, Y/N. Everything that a young apprentice should be,” Master Obi-Wan complimented, glancing at you briefly from the corner of his eye as he continued walking ahead with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Thank you, Master,” you responded, voice a mere mumble as you stared forward at the Temple’s garden before you, seeming to be one of the few things that remained untouched by the city.

It was fresh, luminous, shades of bright green with looming trees and large bushes, many decorated with the most beautiful flowers and arches. It was something you had been desperately needing, some fresh air, some wisdom from the older Jedi, having been nothing but stuck in your head for most of the day, which appeared like most days.

Anakin had done what he had promised and spent all of his thirty minutes of free time before training, showing you how to successfully engage in his backspin, unable to keep the Master Skywalker jokes to a minimum. Though you had only landed the move twice, you couldn’t help the way your face ached from the smile that never dared to disappear at the sight of him.

It was something Obi-Wan had noticed as he had watched from the hallway for a few minutes before entering for the training session. He was taken aback at first — at that look upon your face, the smiles, the lingering stares, the soft touches Anakin always engaged in first. It seemed he had been a little blind himself those past few months, lost in the bliss of his two Padawans finally getting along because perhaps it was more than he realized, more than a sense of camaraderie, more than just a bond among Jedi.

He could see trouble looming — looming over his trusted apprentices, over the closest thing that had resembled a son, the chosen one. It was the same trouble that seemed to be mirroring your face then. As if the solemness had returned upon the young Skywalker’s absence.

“You are quiet,” Obi-Wan observed, stopping at the fountain near the middle of the garden.

You hadn’t even realized you had walked that far.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, seeming to not have heard him the first time.

“You’re quiet, my Padawan.”

You bowed your head slightly in shame that you had found your mind drifting, so much so you were unable to listen to Obi-Wan for more than a few minutes.

“You’re deep in thought. Pondering such things I cannot know, so speak.”

“I’m afraid that I am behind in my training,” you admitted then, the very thing you had been admitting to Anakin over and over again deep into the night.

“Behind? I would say you are advancing quite well. Just as I would expect you to be.”

“But not fast enough to be ready in time for the trials.”

At your confession, Obi-Wan fully turned to face you then, no longer content at staring at the foliage around the two of you but instead the worry that elapsed across your soft features. “The trials? You wish to participate in the trials this year?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Y/N, that has never been done before, do you understand that? Padawans require years of training to ever reach the mental and physical competence to become a Jedi. You are lucky the council granted our ask for you to become a Padawan at all. It has never been done to even accept someone at your age.”

“I understand, it’s just—”

“It’s just Anakin,” he cut you off, the name falling freely then from Obi-Wan’s lips, and it was enough to stun you momentarily.

“Anakin?” you asked confusion showing.

“I see how close the two of you have gotten. There is a connection there between two Padawans I have yet to see, maybe ever. Far different than I can say your father and I were. It would be hard, I know, to imagine him passing the trials, possibly leaving to engage in war, or traveling to protect those that require him.”

“Master I…”

“It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war. You know better. I have taught you. Jedi shall not know love,” he lectured, each and every word diminishing every confidence you had had before, every thoughtful task that didn’t have anything to do with the chosen one.

You smiled awkwardly then, suddenly feeling as if you were being looked at under a microscope at risk of being accused of distracting the very Jedi that this war depends on. “I can assure you, Master, that love is not a word to use here. Not even close. This isn’t about him, sir. He has been a comfort, I will not deny that, but to assume I would ask of this because of him is…”

The truth was you hadn’t thought much about that, last night when you lay awake. It had been a passing thought, one you couldn’t focus on — the inevitable that would certainly lead to the two of you apart one way or another with a certain strain on this newfound connection you were still trying to explain.

“What is it then, Y/N?” he asked, a single brow raised, certainly surprised by my recollection of his words and your choice of response.

“It’s just I can’t fathom the thought, the thought of wasting away most of my twenties being an apprentice, this young Padawan who has yet to accomplish anything. I want to be able to be active, make a change, have a voice, and teach. I was made and brought up to be a queen. I can’t possibly let that be a waste.”

He tutted softly as if thinking, as if wondering just how exactly to advise to bring about a lesson to our words. You weren’t sure if he completely believed you or if he could ever see past the evident connection you and Anakin had formed, whatever it may be, but you couldn’t also deny the small ache that had been lingering almost in the wake of where that anger and grief used to gather.

“It would not be a waste, my young princess,” Obi-Wan said, the title you hadn’t heard in so long, hurting even worse, “You see, it’s not about when you do it; when you teach, make changes, become this unstoppable figure the rest of the senate and council will listen to. It’s not about when but that you just do. Being young won’t make you any more respectable than if you accomplished any of it at my age or even older.”

You couldn’t look away, especially as the kindness and deliberation were seen through his eyes. There was such a care you hadn’t expected from him, not yet, at least not like this. And yet he also had the ability to disappoint you completely as he sighed, the worst admission granting your ears, “But with that being said, I don’t think you will be ready for the trials. I can try my best to teach you everything I know, but I would advise you to wait.

It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war.

Jedi shall not know love.

You hated it. You hated how Obi-Wan could even assume that of you. To love Anakin? It seemed impossible. It had only been months. Some of which were unpleasant. The others, you were still very well trying to wrap your head around. Then most of all to assume you would want to participate in the trials to remain close to him. How could he even think all of that? That when you hadn’t even the ability to confirm if there was a connection that was more than what either of you had been told.

You had tried, retired to the library so many times. Just hoping you could find anything on the Stars of L’âme. Anything that could explain the story, the myth, the possible scientific evidence to its existence, but to no avail, you came up short-handed because how could the Temple have anything that could even allude to love. It wouldn’t.

Enough so you were left in your chambers staring up at the ceiling once again, unable to sleep, unable to even shut your mind off long enough to succumb to darkness. It would be far too kind to you then, far too inviting. You needed it based on the dark circles that were starting to appear. It had to have been past midnight, sure to be even two but you couldn’t know for sure as you were completely unable to move or look anywhere else but the paneling of the ceiling.

That is until a knock sounded on your door. It was soft but loud enough to rip through the silence and your solid gaze. Sitting up slowly, you found yourself unable to move from the confines as if needing to know you weren’t hearing things. A second passed, and then two before the knock sounded again. This time slightly louder. Sliding from the bed, you walked across the room to the front door, unable to deny how cold the floor felt along your bare feet.

You pulled the door open without so much as another thought, and it opened with a small hiss, the compressions releasing from how they were locked. Dim lights streamed in from the hallway, and you had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust, and as they did, you exhaled, almost expecting it.

Anakin peered up at the sound of the door, and his smile faltered for a moment at the sight of you. Whatever he was going to say seemed suddenly lost and rather replaced by the way his lips parted with ease, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, no longer meeting your own. It was then that you realized you hadn’t grabbed a robe to pull on over your night dress before answering the door. As if you were too desperate that you had to eliminate the barrier between the two of you.

It seemed he hadn’t been expecting it either with the way he traced the cream silk with ease, voice lost, even more so as they rose to meet where the dress dipped a little too low upon your chest. It was the first time he had ever seen you in a dress, or something that was less than the robes or training shirts you often wore. Even on nights where the two of you were sat in the windowsill, a long robe, usually one of his old ones covered the rest of you from not only the coldness of the empty hallways but his stare as well.

Dipping even lower, they traced how the material hugged your waist, sinching slightly to the way it draped off your hips. Your bare legs were smooth, even with the minimal light he had in the hallway. He knew there was no mistaking any of it, though, even the initial dip within the valley of your breasts.

He appeared in loose pants and a long tunic, no robe, but still dressed as you usually found him, and there was no denying how it always made you feel. Clearing your throat, those blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the way a light dust of pink had appeared along the apples of your cheeks.

“You’re awake,” he surveyed.

“Yes,” you admitted with ease, knowing there was no point in lying as he would know.

“You’re awake,” he repeated, eyes tracing the expanse of your neck and the way your hair framed your face, “And you’re not at the window.”

“Anakin,” you protested but he wouldn’t let you get a word in as his moment of stuntedness seemed to fade quickly, “That makes night number three. Looks like you could be avoiding me.”

“I’ve been trying to get some sleep. It’s been days, you know since I’ve had any.”

He hummed, no longer ashamed in the way his eyes raked your form, unable to really ignore the way his body was so willing to react to yours, “You’ve been awake for at least an hour. Usually, it won’t take you that long to fall asleep if you’re really willing to try, and I waited at least twenty minutes to see if you would before coming to your door.”

He knew that he had you. You knew that he had you. So much so that you signed almost in defeat, arms crossing over your chest without even thinking much of it. “Okay, so what do you want?”

His eyes flickered down but only for a second, perhaps half of one, before meeting your gaze once more, that charming look about him forming again. He smiled, “I want you to grab a robe. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“It’s late,” you surveyed, peeking slightly around him to peer into the dark hallway void of anyone else.

“And?” he asked, raising a brow as he sarcastically replied, “It’s never stopped you before.”

You huffed loudly then, knowing there was no way for you to convince him to turn, leave your doorway, and retire to his own room for the rest of the night. He was there, and he knew what he wanted, which was for you to follow him out into the dark corridors. To anyone else, it was almost him asking for trouble, but you could never deny someone as painstakingly handsome as him, especially if it meant you got a few extra hours where his attention belonged to you and you alone.

It was something you come to find you were jealous of and wish to have more of — his eyes, his attention, his looming voice. You wanted it all.

“Fine,” you mumbled, turning on your heels quickly to walk over to where the robe you had been wearing earlier in the evening while you were getting ready hung up behind another door. It happened to be one of Anakin’s old ones; it was too small to fit him now.

You took it quickly and slipped it around your shivering frame, and as you turned, you found Anakin poking his head in through the wide-open door, eyes suddenly transfixed on the room as he tried to take it all in. It was a room he had never been in, this place that was yours.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Smile as you followed him out into the dark corridors, knowing then, and always you would probably do whatever he asked of you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long strides, almost inclined to reach out for his hand.

Anakin looked over at you, smirking lightly, “Why would I tell you? You’ve been ignoring me for a few nights now. It’s more fun watching you squirm.”

“Right, of course, it is.”

Noticing the small worry line that appeared between your eyebrows, he couldn’t help but laugh down at you, unable to keep from bumping his shoulder into yours, “Relax, will you? It’s nothing serious. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

With that, a silence lingered, setting it between the two of you. You weren’t sure of what else to say, or if there was anything else to say, so you merely followed him as he led you further and further into the temple, away from your chambers and the emptiness that was your bed. There was no comfort to you then with your silent thoughts other than the gentle brush of his fingers along the back of your palm every once in a while as you walked. The first time it happened, surprising you to the point of looking over at him to find him still staring forward as if he hadn’t felt it at all, and maybe he hadn’t.

It was at least a three-minute walk until his steps had slowed down, making their way through the darkness with you slightly behind. Rounding the corner of an empty hallway in the East Wing of the temple, he continued down it until he stopped about three-quarters of the way until he was in front of a large metal door. It towered over him slightly but not by much. Reaching forward to the keypad, he glanced at you over his shoulder quickly, a small smile of his forming at the sight of you peering up at him in anticipation.

He chuckled, the sound gracing your ears as he input the code, followed by the pound key, which let out a short-lived beep matching the green light that flashed as the door decompressionized. A small hiss sounded from the steam, and you felt your pulse spike. This room was on higher lockdown than most, you realized. One you hadn’t ever been in, and if you hadn’t ever been, maybe you shouldn’t be.

If it were any other time, you would have stopped him and asked if you should be doing this, but you couldn’t care. Not when Obi-Wan had accused you of going against the code as well as not being a good enough Jedi to participate in the trials. You were tired of doing what was expected of you over the past six months, not when you felt so much more with Anakin, even if it was as simple as sneaking off at night.

Stepping past the threshold of the door, you were once again confined into darkness, having quickly lost Anakin as his footsteps echoed further into the vast room. “Anakin?”

“Just turning on the lights,” he answered smugly as the door closed behind you, locking once the door had snuggly sat within the doorway.

It was cold, and the first thing you noticed among your bare legs was the floor, surely metal panels underneath your shoes. The room was completely void of any windows, and it wasn’t until you heard the click of a switch before golden light pooled from the ceilings that you knew where Anakin was. As the beams appeared, you blinked for a moment, adjusting to the new soft light; it dimmed slightly but still enough for you to find Anakin just a few feet away by the light switch.

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, taking you in as you suddenly began to look around the room. It was larger than you would have expected and dull, with boring walls and cold floors. Dull all but for the many things that seemed coated around the room, some nestled into piles, others left alone. A room you truly had never been in, and you knew then why. It was a room for the children, the younglings, the Jedi who are so young they haven’t even fully comprehended the loss of being separated from their parents. So much so that this room basically served as a fun park while they adjusted to their new environment as well as their training.

There were beams, large mats, a pit with foam blocks in it, various lightsaber training sticks, and rubber balls — all bright colors seeming to bring life into the faded room. Then right in the middle, a part of the tiled floor was removed and replaced with a rectangular mesh, almost thin pool. You had never seen something like it before, and you couldn’t help but look over at Anakin in confusion. Confusion of why, out of all of the places in the temple, he had brought you here, a place sanctioned for Jedi that was no more than ten-years-old.

“It’s for the younglings,” he spoke then, pushing himself off from the wall, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “Created to help ease the transition. They are taken away from all that they know; their families, their friends, some young but not young enough to have forgotten. They are still children, even more so, still capable of remembering what having fun was like.”

Pushing another light switch, another set came on around the mesh fabric, a bright blue that reminded you of the color of your lightsaber — it was neon, glowing, calling you to follow Anakin as he stepped closer to it. “This was my favorite place to be.”

You listened intently as he then kicked off his shoes, being left in socks, and stepped forward onto the mesh floor. You were holding your breath then as it dipped, almost seeming to absorb his weight, and slingshotting back up to create a small bounce under his feet.

“And this, well let’s just say it took Master hours to get me to leave.”

“What is it?” you asked walking close enough to where his shoes were left.

Moving from the center of the mesh floor, he approached the edge, sticking out a single hand for you to take, “It’s used for the younglings when they are first beginning to learn to levitate, flip, stuff like that.”

Slipping your own shoes off, you took his hand and stepped forward onto the bendable floor. You stared down, curious of the way it dipped under your weight, bent, feeling as if you were floating in mid-air with no solid ground under your feet. Anakin was laughing, you knew that much, entertained by the kid-like wonder that was appearing across your face.

With his hand still wrapped around yours, you looked up at him, a brow raised and a small smile forming along your own lips, “Now what?”

“And now we jump!”

Before you knew it, he had his other hand wrapped around yours as he jumped up into the air, bringing you with him. Your lips fell open in shock as you came back down, only to bounce back up higher than you would have been able to do on your own. A laugh escaped, it sounding so carefree and natural that Anakin couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound is enough to make your chest flutter.

You found the more you jumped, the higher you went, enough to create excitement, goosebumps to appear, and this lightness to flush your whole body. One you really hadn’t felt in years, like suddenly all of the weight you had been struggling with, compressing you into someone else entirely, was temporarily gone. All you could feel was the air shifting around you and how inevitably right it all was. How, even after nights of ignoring Anakin, it always would feel right.

And how perhaps Obi-Wan had been onto something.

It plagued your mind over the next thirty minutes with the two of you spent jumping, Anakin going as far as to do flips and different tricks he had first learned when he was nine and transferred into his training with force and levitation. You could only watch in awe with the most pure smile on your face — the world seeming to be at a standstill for just a little while.

So much so that by the time hours had passed, the two of you were lying down on the trampoline, letting the fabric leave imprints on the back of your legs and arms. You were tired. He was able to see it in your eyes but neither of you could even fathom leaving yet, not when you both were smiling the way you were at ease finally.

You were lying on your side, head balancing along the inside of your palm, facing Anakin, fully engaged in the questions he asked about Bakura — about what your favorite place was, how it was able to succeed within the capital, the political tendencies of your people. He found himself asking question after question, completely sucked into getting to know as much as possible, all because it was you. Bakura, even when it was gone, no longer levitating within space, spinning with life upon it, it was still you; in every way.

“So when you were to become queen, in simpler terms, you would have become a politician?” The question was so innocent, but you felt the grumble around the sole word. Anakin was facing you, his leg bumping yours, his body mirroring yours in the way he leaned his head against his palm, a mere few inches separating you two.

You knew how he felt about them; politicians, senators, the whole lot. He found the majority of them corrupt, even those who had established the Republic up from the ground. How could he not? He felt politics were void of anything he valued, most of all including compassion. There was no surprise when he began asking questions about your own system, a Monarchy, which in itself was just another way to rule other than the Democracy he had grown up within.

“A ruler,” you corrected.

“I find them to be the same. Though we live in a Democracy, we are ruled by politicians; indirectly, they decide how things will run, corroborate what citizens should believe or not believe, and then, with support, are able to put those things into power.”

“Maybe they are similar, but they are not the same, not really. I would have been a queen, yes, a single ruler, but it would have been more than just a title. I would have made sure of it. There is a council, you know, one like the Jedi Order or the Senate, where the royal family can lean on and have support while making decisions. I would have trusted them to help me lead, and I would have listened to those who wished to be heard and make changes within the council ship and the city,” you explained, the thoughts coming with ease as you imagined what your life surely could have been like had Bakura remained untouched, “I would have made things the way they were supposed to be.”

He didn’t say anything at first, too lost in the way you looked, that hopeful glint in your eyes diminishing quickly at the reality that set in, the loss of your power, your ability to invoke change. He could only admire you as you talked, passionately wishing to change the world.

There was a pause before he decided to reply with a light chuckle laced within his words. “That’s something a politician would say.”

“And so what?” you countered, pushing him back lightly enough that he almost fell back onto the trampoline, “What is so wrong with that? It was what I was made to become. I would have been great at it, you know. Being queen.”

“Is that what you wanted, though?” he asked then, laughter falling away to a serious ask. He was closer now, only a few inches or so apart, close enough you were able to see the different blues that appeared in his eyes and the gentle lines around the corners of his lips.

“I’m not sure what I wanted then. I wasn’t really ever asked because that’s what I would be made to be.”

He hummed then, eyes flickering down to the annoyed frown that appeared across your lips, somehow mirroring the flash of frustrations that reflected in your eyes. “And what about a king?”

“A king?” you repeated, his question taking you by surprise, to which he nodded, proving that he was indeed serious. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought, “Yes, well, there would have been a king. I’m sure some Lord or politician you wouldn’t like very much would have been chosen.”

You expected him to laugh or smile, perhaps smirk at the way you teased him, but he didn’t. His only response was a furrow of his brows. “Chosen? You mean like arranged?”

“Yes.”

“But your parents—”

“My parents were an exception,” you said almost solemnly as if you were reliving your previous life, just how much it resembled a sort of prisoner rather than a ruler, “My father was wise, a Jedi, who left the Jedi Council for my mother. He was different, and a kingdom can’t rely on random men to be great rulers. That’s how royal families are destroyed, and cities fall.”

There was a pause on his end, a slight inhale as his eyes began to swirl with even more questions and uncertainty at the reality of your previous life. He couldn’t help but swing his legs around and sit up, stare never wavering as a certain edge appeared in his voice then, “That day, when I… were you arranged to be married?”

You shook your head, “No. My mother hadn’t quite found anyone yet. I would imagine him, though, you know, make him up in my head and try to make it seem less awful than it really was.”

“What was he like?”

You laughed suddenly confused by his ask, “What?”

“The king? Your king?” he clarified, and at that, you couldn’t help but bow your head, a blush forming along the apples of your cheeks, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it.

“Anakin,” you protested but didn’t get very far as he sent you a narrowed look, his hand flicking at the back of yours with annoyance. “Fine.”

You took a moment, to inhale, to breathe, and remember to six months before. To when you hadn’t known him, Anakin Skywalker. To when you were just the princess of Bakura, not a Jedi, a woman able to be open to love, but only the love chosen for you. It was enough to have you make up a man, the perfect man, to whom you thought about day and night for almost two years with the hope he would end the torment that would be an arranged marriage.

“I thought of him as tall with dark curls. Light eyes that could capture my soul, it seemed, and this certain look, a soft smile about him where he seemed to always be in favor of teasing me. He would be strong-willed and willing to hold power, but not so much that he would overshadow what I thought. And also passionate, know what it’s like to feel and accept the fact,” you explained then, unable to face him or look him in the eyes as you couldn’t help but recount just what you had always wanted.

It somehow matched the young Padawan who had gone on to rescue you the day that Bakura was burning and the Jedi before you then. How had that happened? How had it been so perfect, so true, as if the stars themselves had sent him?

Anakin felt his chest tighten, at each and every word you whispered with uncertainty as if afraid. He knew, though, he could see you were telling the truth, by the mere quiver in your lip to the way you thought carefully with a crinkle in between your brows that this wasn’t something you were saying on the spot but rather what you had always thought and believed. He wanted to take your hand in his or do something to get you to look at him, to acknowledge how it all sounded then. Because he couldn’t deny the similarities, the way it felt as if you had been describing him, recounting each thing about him other than the physicalities.

A Jedi shall not know love.

He couldn’t though. He knew he couldn’t.

“And I suppose…” he trailed, pausing to watch the way your eyes flickered up to meet his again, anticipating what he was going to say next. He smirked, unable to stop himself as he said, “He would believe in the politics of a dictatorship. Support the act of one ruler.”

You stared over at him, watching as his expression shifted, a light filling his irises and the corners of his lips lifting into a smile as a laugh escaped. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’d be much too frightened to tease a princess.”

At the title, the only title you had wished for him to never call you again, brought about another feeling then, one of what could only be described as warmth. One that had a small blush appearing on your face but also a need to shove him over. He could only laugh though at the sight of your embarrassment, at the way you could fold under his teasing, his touch as he reached forward to take both your wrists in his hands.

Before you could gain your footing, he had pulled you up from where you were sitting, both his arms looping around your lower back, still laughing, head dipped back slightly as he stood upon the trampoline.

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to squirm out of his grip.

It only tightened then, your feet hanging mid-air as he began to jump up on the trampoline, somehow still able to go just as high with you in his arms as he had been by himself. You were half-laughing but also half-yelling, arms suddenly around his neck as you glanced down to the ground each time you were up in the air. As he got really high one time, he pretended to let you slip from his arms, enough to get a small squeal to escape, only making him laugh harder.

“Anakin, stop, don’t do that,” you scolded, though the fall would be low, “That's not funny .”

He didn’t listen, though as the next jump up, he went to do it again, but this time, he had really lost his grip on the back of you. You began to slip enough that your stomach dropped slightly. Noticing this, he tried to take hold of you again but fumbled quickly, and before you had even realized it, Anakin was on his back on the mesh floor with you harshly falling on top of him.

An exhale was pulled from his chest at the impact, and you felt your torso ache with the collision of his own. He swore under his breath, his laughter falling short, as he grumbled, head relaxing back against the fabric. With one leg wrapped around one of his and the other thrown over his thigh, you leaned over him on your elbows, torso almost flush against his, lower body slightly straddling his.

“Anakin,” with wide eyes and a nervous lilt in your voice, you couldn’t help but remain unmoving, trying to hold as much of your weight off of him, “Ani, are you alright?”

His chest tightened, stiffening at the sound of the nickname, one that was all too familiar but just not from you. He relaxed quickly though somehow liking the way it sounded from your tongue. Then he was opening one eye up towards you and then another, trying to hold back his smile as long as he could, but upon noticing the way you were chewing on your lower lip in worry, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his facade diminishing quickly.

At the sound, you knew he was fine, probably had been the whole time, and you couldn’t help but also start laughing but not without punching him lightly in the shoulder. He didn’t seem to care not as his arms came up to rest along your hips, hands along your back, his head a few inches from your own, unable to do anything but listen to the way your laughter sounded. The way it had never sounded like that before ever. He wanted it to last for as long as possible, just as the feeling of you sitting upon his body. He couldn’t help though to suddenly roll, you falling back onto the trampoline bouncing slightly as he hovered over you.

A breath slipped, a steady, almost whimper as the weight of his body sunk into yours comfortably, his legs parting yours with ease. Your laughter faded, a mere giggle, and then to nothing. He followed, too, until suddenly it was silent, all but the steadiness of your breathing. He was warm, so warm, strong, his body firm against your own that it had a new feeling pooling at the base of your stomach. One you had been ignoring since you had first laid your eyes on him. But it proved difficult then as his blue irises bore down into yours, his lips glistening where he had wet them with his tongue within the blue neon lights of the room.

Your eyes flickered down to them with ease, but it didn’t last long, not as you both lifted your heads at the sound of the door decompressing at the sound of the correct code being put in. Then it was opening and you both could only lay there as the figure of your Master Obi-Wan appeared. He was reaching for his lightsaber, dressed in robes he always wore to bed, sleep still cascaded in his eyes. A look of confusion that was quickly doused and replaced with a furrow and a frown at the sight before him.

You watched as Anakin lifted one hand from where it initially was pressed alongside your head, a sheepish smile appearing across his lips as he waved. “Hi, Master.”

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

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knightprincess · 1 month

Text

No Matter What (Crosshair x Reader) - Platonic

Words: 1.3k Warning: Fluff with a little bit of hurt/comfort. Synopsis: After settling on Pabu with Clone Force 99, (Y/N) goes on a self-given mission with Crosshair to bring their lost brother home.

After the assault on Mount Tantis and the death of Hemlock, things had been different for Clone Force 99. Echo had refocused his efforts on helping the build Clone Rebellion, taking with him Emerie and some of the clones rescued from the Advanced Science Division, among them Comet. Omega had seamlessly adjusted to life on Pabu once more, happy to be just another kid, growing up peacefully until she was ready to join the fight once more if she did.

Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair would take care of Jax, Bayrn, Eva, and Sami until they could be returned to their families. Each had decided it was time to retire, to discover who they were outside of being soldiers, and to find out what adventures life had in store for them now. However, they’d always be on call if Echo ever needed them.

(Y/N) on the other hand, would use her skills as a bounty hunter to help provide for the people of Pabu and help clones across the galaxy find their way once they were freed from the empire. Although she loved the peace Pabu offered and the small family unit she had gained with Clone Force 99, she wasn’t ready to settle down completely. Not when she still had questions that needed answering. Not when she still needed to find closure.

“I miss him too,” said Crosshair, picking up Tech’s broken goggles from the dashboard of (Y/N)’s ship. Seconds later, a sigh escaped him, hidden within it, regret and grief. The last time he’d spoken to Tech was on Kamino; once again, they’d gone their separate ways. If only he’d chosen differently. “You have to let him go (Y/N). He wouldn’t want you to hold on like this.”

“I can’t,” whispered (Y/N), stopping what she was doing and allowing Crosshair’s words to sink in. “I have to bring him home, even if I have to say goodbye one last time,” she added, admitting she knew there was a chance Tech was truly gone, but she couldn’t allow herself to believe it, not until she found him. “He never gave up on me when I was lost. Neither of you did. I won't give up on him now until he’s home.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Crosshair, putting the broken goggles back on the dashboard, moving to sleeping racks, and setting another up, if only to make his point clear.

“Omega and the kiddos need you here,” commented (Y/N), attempting to protest. Although she already knew it was pointless. Crosshair was one of the most stubborn people she knew. Once he made up his mind, there was little that could change it.

“Hunter and Wrecker can handle things here until we get back,” declared Crosshair, turning to face (Y/N) before crossing his arms over his chest. “Right now, you need me more,” he added, although he did not admit he’d thought about going out there to look for his brother. Something didn’t sit right with him, leaving Tech out there.

“I’m not going to win, am I?” asked (Y/N), sighing as she walked the length of her ship. Filled with memories of the past, her life as a Jedi Knight that felt like a lifetime ago, and her new life as a bounty hunter and protector.

“Nope,” simply responded Crosshair, “You’re stuck with me this time Shortfire.”

The moment Crosshair entered the cockpit, he pushed the red button, activating the com channel. He spoke to Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega there, informing them of his impromptu decision to join (Y/N) on her journey. Framing it to make sure she had backup and would come home again.

“It wasn’t your fault (Y/N),” said Crosshair when (Y/N) entered the cockpit, following the routine she’d once taught Tech, checking over all the systems. There’s nothing either of us could have done to stop him from using Plan 99.”

“If I was there, I could have stopped him from falling,” admitted (Y/N), finally opening up about the guilt haunting her. When her family needed her most on Eriadu, she was across the galaxy, hiding from her past and the Jedi Hunters that had seemingly appeared overnight.

“You were protecting them. No one could have predicted Saw being on Eriadu, and no one could have predicted Tech sacrificing himself. Blaming ourselves won’t change the past (Y/N). It will only prevent you from finding peace and happiness, whatever that looks like.”

“For what it’s worth, Fortune Cookie, I’m glad you’re coming with me,” admitted (Y/N), bestowing Crosshair with a new nickname, replacing the old one of Snarky Sniper. “I don’t think I could do this alone.”

“We’re family until the end,” Crosshair replied, pulling (Y/N) into himself and wrapping her in a warm embrace that seemed foreign but familiar to them both. “Where do we start?”

“Where our fight ended,” responded (Y/N) with a shakey voice, recalling when she’d gone to Eriadu, risking everything to follow the monorail track in search of Tech. She’d found the car's wreckage but no sign of Tech. If there was any blood, the rain had long since washed it away; there was no body to be found or any trace that he was even there, just what remained of the car.

“Tantis?” questioned Crosshair, confusion evident in his quiet voice as he took up the co-pilot’s seat.

“Hunter said Hemlock was the one to return Tech’s goggles; there’s got to be some trace, a lead to follow somewhere,” replied (Y/N), a slither of hope present in her otherwise whispered voice. She dared not speak louder in case her fears grew stronger and became her cruel reality.

“Setting course for Tantis,” worded Crosshair as (Y/N) piloted the ship safely away from the small island. As per tradition, the people waved goodbye, Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega among them.

“Take good care of them, Gonky,” spoke Omega through her com, receiving a simple gonk! in confirmation.

“We’ll see when you come home,” added Hunter, his voice filled with acceptance as if he knew the day would come when (Y/N) went in search of answers. As if he knew one day she’d go on the self-given mission to bring Tech home. “Stay safe out there.”

“You got it, Havoc #1,” replied (Y/N).

“I’ll make sure she comes home in one piece,” declared Crosshair, resting the stump of his wrist on his lap, grabbing onto the handle beneath his seat as he prepared for the rough climb out of Pabu’s atmosphere, “Our family’s been through enough. None of us can handle another loss.”

“We’re not losing anyone this time. We’re bringing our lost brother home,” replied (Y/N), determination alight in her voice. One way or another, the small family unit was going to be reunited again, no matter how long it took.

“Remind me again,” started Crosshair, fiddling with Tech’s broken goggles; now they’d left Pabu’s atmosphere. A smirk appeared across his lips as he remembered Tech’s hobby of recording everything—even the little things. “What you told us before we went into our first battle.”

“No matter what, I’ve got your back. I’d take a bullet for you if it comes to that. In the bitter end, we’re gonna be the last one standing.”

The holoclip appeared before the two, glowing blue and fuzzy. Of course, Tech had recorded it. They were so young back then, naive to what would happen when the war ended, unprepared for the cruel galaxy they lived in.

“Looks like Tech knew you were going to ask,” commented (Y/N); the smallest of grins appeared across her lips as she launched them into hyperspace. “Do you think Omega knows it?” she asked, curious if the boys would have shared the almost promise with Omega, the brave little girl growing up far too quickly, growing up to be a fighter no less—the best of all of them.

“She knows. Hunter would have made sure of it,” replied Crosshair, hope flooding his voice despite the uncertainty they both faced. “No matter what, Shortfire, I’ve got your back until the end.”

KnightPrincess Masterlist

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photogirl894 · 2 months

Note

Ahhh! Congrats on 1300!! I had to look at your prompts as soon as I saw you were doing a celebration!

Mmm, how about #16 from physical affection (drawing shapes on someone's palm) and #18 from romance ("I'm here.")?

Character preface: Hunter x fem!Jedi, established relationship(?) during the war? Maybe they're dancing on the line of a platonic work wife/husband relationship and a true romance? Idk, you can totally play around with it! As always no pressure to accept!

Thank you so much for your request, Magic! And thank you for being an amazing follower and friend! I'm glad I've been getting to know you more in the last few weeks 💜

"Shapes in the Flames"

16. Drawing shapes on someone's palm

18. "I'm here."

Pairing: Hunter x fem Jedi reader

***

Becoming a General as Jedi was definitely something you never expected...and falling in love with the Clone Sergeant assigned to you was even more unexpected.

He was brave, resourceful and kind. One of the bravest fighters you'd ever known that could rival even the greatest Jedi. Not that you'd ever admit that to anyone. Attachments were forbidden among Jedi, but you were never the best rule follower. That was probably why Clone Force 99 had been assigned to you. You were drawn to Sergeant Hunter from the beginning and you had a feeling he felt the same about you...but with you still being a part of the Jedi Order, you both had to be careful with your relationship. If anyone had any suspicions there was anything more between you, then there could be unfortunate repercussions.

There were stolen glances, touches of the hands and sweet smiles exchanged between you two. In private moments, you sat closer together, you'd lean your head on his shoulder and you'd sometimes hold hands. He even called you by your name instead of "General". In times when either of you were under stress, you'd draw shapes in each other's palms to calm the other down. Aurebesh letters, random shapes, whatever came to your minds. Just something about that simple gesture would ground you both back in reality and it was something special only you two knew.

There was one particular mission where you and the Bad Batch had been sent to free a Republic base from a Droid siege. Everything had been seemingly going to plan until a bomb was set to destroy the base and it was only going to take a few seconds. You knew you all wouldn't make it out in time. That was something you couldn't allow. Your squad meant too much to you. Hunter meant too much to you.

You stood your ground facing the bomb, releasing a breath. You knew what you had to do...and Hunter wasn't going to like it.

He knew what you were going to do and he called out your name in fear.

"I'm sorry."

With a thrust of your hand out towards your boys, you called upon the Force and pushed them out and away from the base as far as you could send them. They flew through the air, all of them crying your name, but their cries faded with the distance.

Just as you saw them hit the ground many yards away, the bomb went off. You used the Force to shield yourself from the flames, but the power of the explosion broke your concentration and sent you flying back into the wall with a hard thud. Once you hit the floor, your world went black.

Your eyes fluttered open and you realized you were back on the Marauder with Hunter sitting at your side, holding onto your hand. You felt a light tickling in your palm and you knew he was drawing shapes in your hand. You felt his fingertip trace one curved line up and then down and then he repeated it on the other side going the opposite direction.

It felt like...a heart?

"Hunter...," you weakly moaned out.

He flinched at hearing you say his name and he grasped your hand tighter as he spoke your name in return. "I'm here," he said in a soft and worried yet affectionate tone.

"You're okay," you stated.

"All thanks to you," he replied, "but you shouldn't have done that. You could've been killed."

"If it was to save you and the boys, it would've been worth it," you said back.

Hunter couldn't hold back a small chuckle and he shook his head. "You really are a Jedi. You always put others before yourself."

You chuckled back. "My actions had nothing to do with being a Jedi, Hunter."

Then you sat up, turned his hand over in yours and brought your other hand over, pressing the tip of your index finger into his palm. It was just the two of you here. You weren't afraid to finally reveal the truth, especially since he'd inadvertently revealed it to you while he thought you were still unconscious. You traced the two same curved lines as he had, making the shape of a heart. He gasped softly as he realized what you had done and he met your eyes. You were smiling and your affectionate gaze said everything that only proved he wasn't imagining things.

"I love you."

He smiled back, grateful to still have you with him and to know the true depth of your feelings, and he placed a kiss to your palm, pressing a delicate and far more intimate shape into your skin that his gentle hands couldn't ever convey.

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

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#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #my sergeant #bad batch prompts #hunter x reader #photogirl894 1300 followers

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gingiesworld · 8 months

Text

Reunited

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings : Zombie Apocalypse. Death. Violence

Taglist: @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator @imaginationeuphoria @louxbloom @mfd-101

18+ MINORS DNI

Now

Y/N remained on the lookout of the camp, ready to ring the bell if any walkers stumbled across the small amount of survivors that had resided their. Their rifle remained readily within their grasp as they continued to look out through the darkness, listening for any sounds that would mean they could indeed be in danger.

They fingers played with the necklace they wore around their neck, remembering the birthday they had recieved it from their wife and sons.

Then

Y/N woke groggily to the sound of the bedroom door bursting open, the twins bounced on the bed excitedly as Wanda walked in with a tray full of pancakes. Enough for the four of them to sit and eat breakfast together, like they always would.

"Happy birthday baby." Wanda told them sweetly as the twins started to wolf their breakfast down.

"Thank you my love." They whispered as they kissed her lips tenderly before they all started to eat. Listening as the twins came up with a plan for Y/N's birthday, of course it was to be spent at the amusement park which Y/N didn't mind at all. In fact, they preferred to spend as much time as they could with their family.

"I got you something, well the twins also helped with picking it out." Wanda told them as she reached into her pocket, taking out a velvet box and handing it to them. Y/N beamed as they saw the Jedi emblem on the silver pendant.

"I love it. Thank you." They smiled as Wanda helped them put it on before ushering the boys from the bedroom so Y/N could get themselves ready to spend the day with their family.

Now

"It seems quiet tonight." Bruce spoke up as he approached Y/N on the lookout.

"Yeah." Y/N whispered, not taking their eyes away from their surroundings. "But that doesn't mean it is a good thing."

"I know you miss Wanda." Bruce told them as they just hummed. "But it has been years Y/N, maybe they're."

"Don't you dare say it!" Y/N growled as they turned to face their friend. "Do you know over the years I have looked for them, even among the undead. Hoping to see them either way, maybe put them out of their misery and maybe give them the burial they deserve."

"I know." He patted their shoulder.

"No, you don't know Bruce." They told him. "Natasha is here, along with Tony and that kid Peter. You have your family." They looked back out at the horizon. "I just want to be with my family and I will not rest until I know what had happened to them."

Even as the days wore on, not that anyone was really keeping score. They had struggled with the supplies, needing to go into a nearby village to find some food and other supplies.

"It's dangerous." Peter spoke up as everyone hummed.

"But if we don't do this, we will die of starvation kid." Y/N told him. "So, Nat and I will head out and get what we can."

"Just be careful." Bruce spoke up as both Nat and Y/N grabbed their weapons and threw the empty duffel bags over their shoulders.

The two walked through the woods, remembering the way towards the village as they listened to their surroundings. Nat always observed how Y/N was closed off, especially when either couple shown affection to their partners.

"You were married right." She stated as Y/N nodded. "What happened to her?"

"I don't know." They answered her honestly. "We were split up, the kids went with her and I just. I wonder what happened to them."

Then

As they heard a siren blaring through the town, Y/N and Wanda jumped up and grabbed their clothes. Running straigh towards the twins room and grabbing the two. As Wanda helped them get ready, Y/N filled their backpacks with the essentials.

They all froze as they heard screaming, all jumping as they heard their front door open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps headed up the stairs and the twins door opened to reveal a worried Pietro and Monica.

"Come on." He told them all. "We have to go now."

The four of them followed Pietro and Monica to their car, that was when Billy turned back to the house, Y/N chasing behind him as the others screamed after the two of them.

"Mr Sniffles, I can't sleep without him." Billy whined as Pietro was right behind them.

"I'll get him for you." Y/N told him as Pietro grabbed Billy, taking him to the car. Wanda yelled as she watched Y/N run back inside, Monica keeping her from following them inside. Y/N searched Billy's room for a couple of moments before they found his brown teddy bear. Running down stairs as they saw some of the residents running towards them, growling or yelling as they approached. Pietro had started the truck as Y/N soon ran behind the truck. The stuffed teddy in their hands as they tried to jump onto the back of the truck bed. Only just managing to put the teddy in the back as they lost their grip. Falling in the road as Wanda screamed for her brother to turn back. Y/N stood up and ran after the truck as Pietro shook his head.

"We have to carry on Wanda." He told her. "You and the boys are safe." He told her regretfully as Y/N soon disappeared the further away they went. They sprinted towards a neighbouring house, and ran inside. Locking the door behind them as they ransacked the place, sighing in relief as they saw a shotgun above the mantel and shells in a nearby cupboard. Only one goal in their mind, finding their family.

Now

Y/N and Nat looked through the local shops in the village. Already seeing the practically empty shelves. Nat had a defeated look on her face.

"We're going to have to move on." She stated as Y/N hummed in agreement.

"Let's just take what's left and get back." They mumbled as Nat nodded. The grabbed what little was left and made their way to the exit of the store. Glancing around before they made their way back to where they had came from. Their hands on their weapons, ready to attack at any given moment.

"What if they are dead?" Natasha asked them as they just froze.

"They can't be." Y/N told her. "In years I haven't seen her or the boys, not even her brother." They continued to move as they spoke. "I just hope that they did make it out of there because I don't think I can live in a world where they don't exist."

"You really loved her." Natasha stated as they hummed.

"I do really love her." They told her. "There isn't a day that goes by where I don't think of my wife and sons."

Then

As Pietro drove, Wanda kept screaming for him to turn the car around. The twins were both crying as Monica tried to calm them.

"I CAN'T DO THAT WANDA!!" Pietro yelled as he hit the steering wheel. "I know you must hate me right now but I had to. I just." He sighed as he looked at her through the rearview mirror. "I promised mama and papa that no matter what, I would always protect you and I won't ever break that promise."

"Y/N is alone." She whispered as Pietro wiped his eyes before his own tears fell.

"They could be dead by now." He told her sadly.

"No." She shook her head as she looked out of the window. "I will not believe that."

"Those things Wanda, they used to be people." Monica told her. "There was a breach at one of the Shield labs and a bio weapon got released." Monica's voice faded as Wanda cried silently, wishing for the day she would see them again. For them to hold her in their arms once more.

Now

Within the walls of Haven, it was a town surrounded by electric fences, 10ft tall and surrounded by boobie traps. Wanda walked through the streets, like she did every morning as the twins remained with their uncle and aunt.

She always looked up at the sky, thinking about Y/N, wondering if even after all of these years, they had somehow survived.

"The boys are awake." Pietro found her as she just nodded. The twins were now teenagers, both 14 years of age. They had still kept asking about Y/N, wanting to know if they had ever survived.

"I'll be there in a moment." Wanda told him. Although she hated her twin in that moment she was separated from her love, she now understands that he had made the hard choice that she wouldn't have made, saving all of their lives which is something Y/N would want.

"Bucky and I are heading out to scavenge the nearby towns." He informed her. "We will be back before sundown."

"Be careful." She told him as he just nodded. Wanda made her way back towards the house that they have resided in since they had found refuge and safety. Thanks to Steve Rogers who also happened to be someone who had predicted there would be some sort of apocalypse. Once Wanda approached the house, the twins were already helping Monica with the fruits and vegetables.

"Good morning." Monica greeted her as she just gave her a small smile. As the world around them was dying, they lived as comfortably as they possibly could.

"Morning." Wanda mumbled as she headed inside. Looking at the picture of the four of them. The one Tommy grabbed from the wall on the way out of their home all of those years ago.

"I know this must be hard Wanda." Monica started as Wanda shook her head no.

"You don't." Wanda whispered as she looked at her sister in law. "Everyday I wonder what happened to them. I wonder if they died that day we escaped. Did they become one of them things and will we see them as one of the walkers who totter around the fence before Clint shoots them with an arrow." Wanda wiped her eyes. "I just, I want to know what happened and it kills me inside because there is that possibility that they could still be alive out there."

Monica had no words so all she could do was wrap her arms around her as Wanda gathered herself.

"Don't get me wrong, I am thankful that the twins are alive and well but." She took a shakey breath. "I just wish I could go back, back to how it was."

Y/N was looking over the old map they had with Tony and Nat as they decided to map out a direction which would be best for them to head out.

"What about near the city?" Tony suggested as both Nat and Y/N shook their heads.

"I understand you were a city boy and miss that life, but that is the most dangerous idea you have ever had." Y/N told him. "The city was highly populated which means."

"There's a high possibility that there is thousands of walkers in the city." Nat finished as Tony huffed. "We're safest if we stick to the backroads, less population and the small towns around help with some of the supplies."

"Ok." Tony hummed as both Nat and Y/N looked over the map.

"So we will head towards Harmony, there's a clearing and a ranch just around here where we can camp out." They pointed to a spot on the map.

"Maybe if the ranch is empty, we can stay there." Nat suggested as Y/N hummed as they packed away the map.

"It should take us a few hours to get there." Y/N mumbled as everyone picked up the bags and weapons. Following Nat as Y/N took up the back.

"So, what is the deal with Wanda?" Bucky questioned as both Pietro and Bucky were stood inside a pharmacy, gathering as much supplies as they could.

"She is still hung up on Y/N." He stated as he picked up a bottle of aspirin. "They are Wanda's partner and we left them behind. I guess she is still holding out hope that they are still alive and will find her and the boys."

"It's been years." Bucky whispered as he looked shocked. "What if she is holding out hope just to lose it."

"She doesn't care about that." Pietro told him. "You should have seen them together, whenever Y/N had looked at her, even from when they both started to see each other, they looked at her like they would move mountains for her." Pietro smiled at the memories of seeing his sister so happy and in love. "I remember the first time she came to me to talk about them. They had been dating for 5 months I think, and her words made me smile and I wanted to find that love that she always spoke about. She told me, 'I have finally found my forever in Y/N and I understand what Mama always used to say when she spoke about love.'"

"That's really nice." Bucky beamed as the two never realised how long they had remained in one spot. "Yelena has been having a hard time lately." Bucky told him as they exited the pharmacy. "Her sister, Nat's birthday is coming up."

"I remember Kate mentioning something about that." Pietro noted as they started to walk through the streets towards the exit, not paying any mind to the walkers closing in from the west. "I guess we should just." A blood curdling shriek sounded through their ears as the two men froze. The two looked around frantically, seeing a small horde approaching them.

"I don't think we can take them." Bucky mumbled as Pietro shook his head.

"Nope. We don't have enough ammo." He stated as he looked to his left, seeing more.

"Maybe we can hide out in the store?" Bucky suggested.

"Yup, let's just give ourselves over to them." Pietro spat sarcastically.

"We can't lead them back!" Bucky told him as he nodded. He knew Bucky was right. "Let's just kill any that get to close for comfort." Bucky soon led the way towards the building in question as the walkers closed in on them. Soon enough they barricaded the doors, Pietro was froze as the sounds of their shrieks and the banging on the walls and door filled his ears. The fear was evident as he started to feel like he was suffocating as Bucky searched for another exit.

"Do you hear that?" Nat asked as she stopped everyone from moving further.

"It sounds like walkers." Tony stated.

"A lot of walkers." Peter mumbled as he moved closer to the group.

"Maybe we can go around." Nat stated as the others nodded as Y/N made their way towards the sound.

"They're surrounding the store." They told them as they pointed towards the small horde.

"I know you have hope that you might see Wanda, but we need to survive Y/N and heading over there is a death wish." Bruce told them as they shook their head.

"We have more than enough to take on the horde that small." Y/N told him. "What if there are kids in there? A family."

"Just like the one you lost?" Tony questioned as everyone glared at him. Y/N just shook their head as they headed to wards the horde, seeing as one of them at the back heard them kick an empty rusty can.

"Come on." Nat grumbled as she cocked her gun, following behind Y/N who started to fire. Aiming for the head as the walker dropped to the floor, the others started to walk towards them as they fired.

"I'm running low." Bruce stated as he reloaded the last cartridge in his 9mm.

"Do you hear that?" Bucky asked Pietro as the banging on the door ceased, the only sound that joined the walkers shrieks was the sound of gunshots.

"Who?" Pietro questioned as he raised his gun.

"I don't know, could be a gang?" Bucky reasoned as he walked towards the window. Watching as the number of walkers decreased instantly.

Y/N had run out of ammo so they had to change to the machete they had strapped to their belt. Swinging it as they got close enough, the blade slicing through the neck as the head fell to the floor. One by one, until the last one was done. Y/N got to the door and knocked on it.

"Come on, we know you're in there." They called out. "It's safe now. You can join us if you wish to."

"Come on." Bucky told Pietro as he started to move the barricade from the door, opening it to reveal Y/N and the small group of survivors. "Thank you." He thanked them as Y/N just nodded. Looking around at the group as Y/N walked passed them, recognising Pietro as he was still clean shaven like he always was before the outbreak. Although he never recognised them as their hair had grew out and their face had some scarring.

"We just need to get some more supplies." Y/N grumbled as they approached the counter at the back of the store, getting the left over ammo for the group as the others grabbed the food and water, and other supplies they may need.

Pietro observed Y/N as there was something he had recognised about them, but he couldn't quite put a name to it.

"We are heading just a couple hours north to a nearby ranch if you would like to join us." Nat stated as Bucky waved her off.

"We actually reside in a nearby town." He told her. "It's actually some sort of safe haven if you would want to join."

"Safe havens don't exist anymore." Y/N stated as they stood behind Nat.

"Well it's not perfect but it has a huge electric fence surrounding it and boobie traps. We also have lookouts." Bucky explained as Pietro observed Y/N. Trying to figure out why they are so familar.

"Y/N." He blurted out as everyone looked at him. "It's you." He beamed as Y/N looked away.

"You two know each other?" Nat questioned as Y/N groaned.

"He is my wife's twin, the man who left me to die all those years ago." Y/N stated as they left the building. Looking either way before they started to walk away from the store.

"Wanda and the twins are safe." Pietro yelled as he followed them out, causing Y/N to stop in their tracks. "They will be so fucking happy to see you. Wanda will be happy to see you."

"You left me." Y/N yelled as they turned to face him. "You were a brother to me and you left me to die!"

"I had too do what I needed to protect my family." He told them.

"I WAS YOUR FAMILY!!!" They yelled as they stepped towards him. "I was family." They whispered as Pietro gave them a sad smile. Neither really paying attention to one of the walkers that they had missed coming from around the building until Y/N saw it approach Pietro. It all happened so fast as Y/N moved as fast as they could, using the knife as they held the walker, not realising it's head had tilted towards their arm holding it in place. Y/N cried out as they plunged the knife into it's skull.

"Fuck!!!" Y/N yelled as they held their hand.

"What do we do?" Peter questioned as Bruce approached them.

"Get me a blow torch now!" Bruce yelled as he grabbed Peter's clean machete before he approached Y/N who cradled their arm. "We need to be fast." Bruce stated as he gestured for Pietro to hold their arm. "Look away." The two looked away as Bruce swung the machete hard, the others flinched as they heard their scream. "Ok, I'm going to cauterize the wound."

"What if it doesn't work and they change?" Pietro questioned.

"You should just shoot me now." Y/N groaned as everyone shook their head.

"I remember it took Thor 24 hours before they turned." Bruce told them. "Maybe if we wait it out." He suggested as Pietro nodded.

"No." Y/N shook their head as they groaned as Bruce used the blow torch on the severed arm. "I don't want to take that chance."

"No." Nat stated as she stood nearby. "I am not going to lose my best friend so we are going to do it Bruce's way."

With very little room to argue, Pietro held wrapped their good arm around their shoulder as they helped them walk as Bucky led the way to the town. Steve was there with Monica and Wanda to greet Bucky and Pietro, before they noticed that their was an increase of people approaching.

"Who is with them?" Monica questioned as Wanda shook her head. Unsure about the new comers with her brother.

"NAT!" Yelena boomed as they approached, Nat smiled tenderly as she heard her younger sister's voice. Speeding up as Bucky opened the gates, everyone watched as the two embraced as they cried in each others arms.

Wanda felt a pang of jealousy, hoping she would have that same reunion with Y/N. But she was starting to give up hope until her brother approached her. Soon enough, she recognised those eyes she had missed every single day since the day they were separated.

"Y/N?" She whispered as she approached the two of them. Her hands reaching up to caress their cheek, her fingers tracing the scars on their face as her tears started to fall.

"Wanda." They smiled tiredly as they went to reach out to her, only to stop as they remembered they lost their arm.

"What happened to you?" She whispered, pain in her eyes at the thought of them going through so much agony over the years apart.

"We have a lot to discuss." They told her softly as they stumbled slightly.

"Is there anywhere we can put Y/N to rest for 24 hours?" Bruce asked Steve as he had discussed what had happened. He nodded as he led them towards his own place he shared with Bucky. Wanda followed as Pietro filled her in.

"Don't tell the boys just yet." Wanda told her twin as she opted to remain with Y/N. "Just in case they aren't out of the woods." The two watched as Steve strapped them down in the medical bed they had taken from the doctors office.

"The straps are just a precaution." Steve told them as they just nodded weakly. Bruce cleaned and changed the dressing on their wound before he left Wanda alone with them. They smiled at her with a tired smile as she sat on the dresser.

"I am happy you made it." They told her. "Did the boys?"

"Billy and Tommy are fine." She told them. "All of us are fine." She approached the bed cautiously. "Leaving you wasn't easy." She whispered as they nodded in understanding. "I pleaded and begged for him to turn back for you but he just wouldn't."

"It's ok." They told her as she shook her head no.

"It's not ok." She told them. "I should have fought him harder on the matter. I should have fought for you."

"Wanda, you had the twins to consider." They told her. "I would prefer if you always put yourself and the twins before me anytime because you three are the most important people in my life."

"You saved Pietro." Wanda stated as Y/N nodded. "I just, thank you for fighting to come back here." She told them as she ran her hands through their long shaggy hair. Leaning down to kiss their lips, the two sighing at the contact they had missed over the years.

"Not a day went by were I didn't think of you or the boys." They told her honestly. "I love Wanda, I always have and always will."

"I love you so much more Y/N." She kissed them once more, her heart full again as the missing piece had returned.

As the months went on, Y/N had adjusted to life with one arm as everyone had their part to play in survival. The twins were emotional and extremely happy to have their parent back with them, even if they had missed years and years together.

Y/N stood at the door, watching as Nat taught the twins some of her moves, even though they hope the twins never need to use them but it is always best to be prepared. Especially in a world that is fading away around the little piece of heaven they have found with their loved ones.

#wanda maximoff x reader #gingie's halloween special #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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staycalmandhugaclone · 8 months

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I WANNA RANT ABOUT A REOCCURING THEME IN STAR WARS THAT NO ONE’S TALKED ABOUT (that I’ve seen)

I don’t know why this popped into my head, but I’ve been a little feral to do some good screaming about it: can we talk about the number of hugely influential character who’ve made a mistake and kept pursuing that path because they felt like it was too late to change??! Dooku, Anakin (just wait, I’ll get there), Crosshair, hell even Obi Wan.

Dooku’s example of this is painted clearly in the Tales of the Jedi episode when he learns about Qui-Gon. There’s clearly doubt, but by then his ‘son’ has been killed for the goal he’s fighting for and that sacrifice would be pointless if he doesn’t see it through. Anakin doesn’t truly reach this point until his transition to Vader, but there’s a moment beforehand (the “what have I done?”) line, that illustrates it, and then after finding out he “killed” Padme, he believes himself utterly unworthy of redemption, so he becomes a bit of a mindless slave fueled by rage and regret.

And Crosshair… listen, I will fight dirty on this hill. Sure, Crosshair probably gets his chip out after Bracca, but he’d just spent months trying to off his brothers and being forced to do things he never would have without the chip and not once did his brothers openly suspect something was wrong or doubt that he’d do those things, and, of course, we have to mention the moment when he saves Omega and everyone still keeps their guns trained on him at the end of season 1, as has been dissected time and again by countless others, which solidifies his fears of no longer having a place among them. So, he’s alone, unwanted by the only family he’s ever known, and wracked with guilt over the things he’s done. The only place he has left is the Empire because he’s already in too deep.

Obi Wan is more subtle, but his mistakes are with Anakin. He’s overlooked red flag after red flag, and even acknowledges this is some of the books, but he lets things slide time and time again because he’s made exceptions for him in the past. I think he begins subconsciously doubting his right to call Anakin out on those actions because of his own failings, and then everything spirals out of control too quickly for him to even try to fix it.

Hell, this mentality broke Wolffe in Rebels - despite not having his chip, he still clings to a distrust toward Jedi because, if he doesn't, he'd have to come to terms with the fact that he betrayed Plo, which, let's be real: not one of us is emotionally ready for.

The greatest and most painful failings of our beloved characters came about because they didn’t feel like they could, or should, be granted the chance to make things right, either because they couldn’t live with what they’d done so couldn’t consciously accept their actions as a mistake, or because they couldn’t forgive themselves so didn’t think they deserved to even ask anyone else for forgiveness.

With very, very few exceptions, it’s only too late to ask for help when you’re dead. Things may never be the same as before the mistake was made, but that’s still better than continuing to make it worse.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk, scroll on next vid’ja

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intermundia · 2 years

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the kenobi show has given me so much Jedi content and I’m so glad, but also as someone who’s Jewish, it’s made me Incredibly Aware of exactly how many people in the fandom would fall for Nazi rhetoric - like when I see people saying “the Holocaust was bad” but then going “the Jedi deserved their fall” in the next breath, it doesn’t give me a lot of hope that people actually know why the Holocaust was bad, or that they’d be able to see through the propaganda if it occurred today

Absolutely, completely, and totally. The inability of many fans to correctly parse a narrative, to evaluate the credibility of information based on the person delivering it, and instead believing obvious, malicious propaganda because it satisfies their vicarious craving for power, listening and trusting the people wearing literal black cloaks and surrounded by stormtroopers, it is all depressing at best and deeply concerning at worst.

We share a fandom with people who argue with their whole chest that fascism is better than democracy, and that genocide was not only deserved, but also a net benefit for society at large, either ignoring or accepting without problem the blatant, shouted, real world antisemitic parallels. I don’t know if they are projecting their religious trauma from Christian institutions onto the Jedi, and so don’t see the antisemitism of reveling in their genocide, but that’s my most charitable explanation.

It’s so frustrating how they happily share and support Sidious’s version of reality, the view that was put into Anakin’s mouth on Mustafar to show how far he had fallen into evil, not to frame him as being right. They aren’t guided by compassion for innocent people, or maybe even aware of the history of very real atrocities, but it’s no excuse when it’s a sign of being incurious about the experience of others unlike yourself, and unconcerned with their suffering.

Watching Episode 5 and hearing Reva’s story about hiding among the bodies, my first thought when I was watching was about the 33,771 Jews killed at Babi Yar, and the survivor narratives, which included hiding among the dead. I think everyone needs to know about the very real, historical analogies to the things depicted on screen and understand why it is so important for us to agree about who are right and wrong about genocide, even in a fictional form.

I am not Jewish, but it matters to me a great deal to protect Jewish lives and to make sure it never happens again, both specifically to Jewish people and to other vulnerable minorities as well. Our stories should inspire us to be vigilant about the creep of fascism, not inspire us to argue in defense of fascists and enjoy their violence. Yes, it is just Star Wars, yet it is also much more than that. The stakes of all of this are actually indescribably high.

#this topic is complicated beyond one tumblr post #but #i am comfortable saying that people need to fucking look in the mirror and interrogate themselves #sw meta #antisemetism tw

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kazoosandfannypacks · 6 months

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summary: "Though all Mandalorians placed heavy emphasis on the value of their beskar armor, for some it was just armor, a thing only to be taken up in a time of war. Others believed that to remove your helmet or even so much as a glove around another living being was to make yourself an outcast. Most Mandalorians fell somewhere on the spectrum between them, and house Wren and its clan leaned towards the latter, not allowing themselves to remove their helmet. Their custom held one distinct caveat: once a Mandalorian had chosen a partner, a partner for life, their souls bound by a tie no man could sever— then, and only for them, could they remove their helmet, and share their face for the first time with another living soul." or, "the au in which ezra falls for sabine without even seeing her face" word count: 7927 words a/n: I hope you guys are having a great week! the good news is that I'll hopefully be writing more fic over the next couple weeks! the bad news is that that's because I'm on crutches at the moment and avoiding doing fanarts for related reasons… let's just say, I now know firsthand that getting stabbed in the foot REALLY hurts. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, because I had a lot of fun writing it! It's my longest sabezra oneshot, so far, so that's exciting! shoutout to the talented and creative @kanerallels and the lovely and sillygirlcoded @laughingphoenixleader for betaing! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @dootchster @lucasbridger @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech @jedimandalorian @notanodinarygirl {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

This is (Kinda) The Way

There were two kinds of people Mandalorians disagreed with— others and themselves. For every disagreement a Mandalorian had with an outsider, they had even more among their own ranks. Customs, traditions, and language were the biggest one, especially when it came to the one thing that united them all— their armor.

Though all Mandalorians placed heavy emphasis on the value of their beskar armor, for some it was just armor, a thing only to be taken up in a time of war. Others believed that to remove your helmet or even so much as a glove around another living being was to make yourself an outcast.

Most Mandalorians fell somewhere on the spectrum between them, and house Wren and its clan leaned towards the latter, not allowing themselves to remove their helmet. Their custom held one distinct caveat: once a Mandalorian had chosen a partner, a partner for life, their souls bound by a tie no man could sever— then, and only for them, could they remove their helmet, and share their face for the first time with another living soul.

🧡•💜•🧡

If this were a normal day, Ezra would be sitting on the familiar outskirts of his home city right now, feasting on whatever he could get his hands on. Instead, he was on a starship in the vacuum of space, with a group of rebels who thought it better to steal for others than for themselves— and somehow, it felt right, not just helping others, but the people he was helping others with.

In the few days he'd been on the Ghost, he'd gotten to know everyone pretty well. Hera was kind and brave, Kanan was cranky but meant well and cared about people almost as much as Hera did, Zeb would flatten him if he got within two feet of himself or his food, and Chopper loved nothing more than making others miserable— overall, it wasn't an awful combination.

The one member of the crew Ezra had a hard time connecting with was Sabine. Maybe it was because of how she'd shrug him off whenever he'd talk to her, or the fact that she didn't eat in the galley with the rest of the Spectres— but more than likely, it was because she was always wearing that helmet, and the armor that (mostly) matched it. He'd never seen her without it, and from what he'd gathered, no one else in the crew had either.

That afternoon, he'd run into her in the galley, as she was grabbing a meal to take back to her room. No one else was around, so he figured now was as good a time as any to risk a social blunder.

"Why do you always wear that armor?" Ezra asked.

Sabine stopped partway through the cup of juice she was pouring herself, just for a moment, then continued.

"I'm a Mandalorian," Sabine said.

"Okay?" Ezra shrugged. Mandalorians had come to Lothal before, and they'd had no problems with taking off their helmets. "I've seen Mandalorians take off their helmets before."

"Well, they must not've been from clan Wren," Sabine said. That was the closest she gave to an explanation before storming off, much faster than normal.

Ezra told himself not to replicate that mistake again.

🧡•💜•🧡

"Can I talk to you?" Ezra asked, taking a seat in the cockpit diagonal from Hera— Sabine's seat, he could tell from the paint job, but she wasn't around anyways at the moment.

"Sure," Hera said.

"I just," Ezra sighed, "I know you're the best person to ask— that is if I don't wanna get laughed at for asking or end up getting my question answered with two more questions I don't know the answer to like Kanan always does."

Hera smiled a little as Ezra said that, which he added to his mental folder of What Exactly Is Going On Between Kanan And Hera, Anyways?

"Why doesn't Sabine take off her helmet?" Ezra asked, "I know lots of Mandalorians who do, well, one or two of them, and I don't really personally know them, but..."

He could tell his question had been a serious one to Hera, because when he asked, she turned away from the ship's controls for the first time since before he came in. Instead, she turned to Ezra, her hands folded in her lap as she leaned toward him.

"Not all Mandalorians are the same," Hera said, "just like not all Twil'eks, humans, or Jedi. Different clans have different customs they adhere to."

Ezra nodded. That kind of made sense.

"What happened to the rest of Sabine's clan?" Ezra asked. It was hard to tell exactly how old she was because of the helmet, but she didn't seem too much older than he was, and he'd never heard mention of her family.

"Mandalorians are a brave people," Hera answered, slowly, "fierce warriors who don't like change in their customs and traditions. Naturally they're not the kind of people the Empire likes having around. I never asked questions when we found Sabine, at least, not after I learned she wouldn't answer them."

Hera shook her head, and Ezra nodded. The Empire had probably done the same thing to Sabine's family that they'd done to his.

"Armor is important to a Mandalorian," Hera said, "handed down from generation to generation. It might be one of the only things she still has."

"I get it," Ezra said, and stood up to leave.

"One more thing," Hera said, and Ezra turned back to her, "she may have a rough exterior, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need a few good friends."

Ezra nodded. If there was anyone who seemed hard to make friends with, it was Sabine— so if there was anyone who needed friends, it must be her.

🧡•💜•🧡

Even in the midst of yet another heated disagreement with Chopper and Zeb, Ezra wasn't gonna abandon Operation Be Sabine's Friend, so when he saw her painting in her room with the door open, he only felt it right to stop and say hi.

"What are you working on?" Ezra asked, leaning his arm against the doorframe.

"A little piece I like to call 'none of your business.'"

"Okay," Ezra shrugged, "well, if you ever get tired of painting 'none of your business' and need inspiration..."

"I'll be sure to look elsewhere," Sabine said, then mumbled something under her breath in some language Ezra didn't understand.

Ezra didn't have time to ask what that meant before Chopper zoomed by, running into Ezra and almost knocking into him, and leaving Ezra to forget about his quest to befriend Sabine.

At least, until that night, when he counted it a victory that Sabine had painted himself and Zeb on the wall of their room, even if it was the most humiliating representation of him he'd ever seen.

🧡•💜•🧡

Ezra knocked on Sabine's door, and was surprised when she actually opened it this time.

"What is it?" Sabine asked, arms crossed.

"She must be in a better mood than normal today," Ezra thought.

"I just," Ezra shrugged, "I know you like doing art and painting and stuff, and you do a really good job at it."

"And?" Sabine asked.

"I," Ezra pulled a stormtrooper helmet out from behind his back, "I wanted to know if you'd paint this for me?"

"Why?"

"I wanted a helmet to wear on missions," Ezra said, "that way no one knows who I am."

"What, using other criminal's names as an alias just isn't cutting it for you?"

"I'm serious," Ezra said.

"Then wouldn't it be better to leave it plain?" Sabine asked, though she took the helmet from him, which was a good sign, and she held it up and surveyed its surfaces.

"Nope," Ezra said, "last time I went in there with a white bucket, Zeb said he couldn't tell the difference between me and the troopers and knocked me out cold. I don't want him to have that excuse anymore."

"I'll see what I can do," Sabine said. She closed the door before Ezra could get another word in, and he didn't see her for the rest of the day.

🧡•💜•🧡

"Look alive, Jedi!"

Ezra looked up just in time to see an unidentified flying object hurtling towards his face, and surprised himself by catching it— this Jedi stuff was really paying off. He looked at the large chunk of plastoid in his hands and quickly recognized it as the helmet he'd given Sabine the previous morning, though now it had a fresh paint job. Ezra didn't know much about art, but he could recognize Sabine's handiwork.

"It's perfect," he said, looking up overtop it to see Sabine, seating herself proudly on the table he was sitting at.

"It's nothing," Sabine said, "the only thing better than painting is defacing Imperial property in the process."

Ezra smiled as he tried the helmet on, suddenly remembering something else he'd taken— or, helped take, anyways— from the Empire.

"This is great," Ezra said, then leaned closer to her, "I just might commission you to work your magic on some other stolen Imperial property, if you're up to it. Something much larger than a helmet."

He could hear the excitement in her voice, despite how hard she tried to hide it.

"What do you have in mind?"

🧡•💜•🧡

"A TIE Fighter?" Sabine asked, standing outside the cave on Lothal not long after, "are you crazy?"

"Come on," Ezra said, wondering if this was a mistake, "you said you wanted to deface government property."

"How did you even get a TIE Fighter here?" Sabine asked.

She walked around the fighter, clearly studying its surfaces as though envisioning what they'd look like when she was done with it.

Ezra smiled. She'd already taken the bait.

"Zeb and I may have 'borrowed' it when we went on a wild meiloorun hunt," he explained.

"Yeah," her helmet peeked out around the wing she was standing behind, "and Kanan and Hera told you to destroy it."

"I know," Ezra fake-sighed, "but our options were blow it up without the best explosives expert on our team— or leave it as a canvas for her next masterpiece. I guess the choice is up to you..."

"Go grab my spraycans."

🧡•💜•🧡

Ezra had never watched Sabine work before, but she'd said he could stay as long as he kept lookout at the mouth of the cave and didn't say anything, and Ezra took that as a step up from the usual.

He bit back his hundreth question in the last few hours, knowing that if he was going to get Sabine mad at him for talking, it would have to be something a lot better than "is orange your favorite color? Mine too."

He held his hand out and sensed as much as he could, every Loth Rat and Loth Cat within a good sized radius of the cave— but not another sentient life for about as far.

The very first orange hues started creeping into the horizon. They'd need to be getting back soon.

He turned back to Sabine, and since he couldn't see her face, he'd learned to read her body language to make up for it, and she seemed to really be enjoying herself and her work.

He'd never seen an artist at work before, and was impressed by how in command of the spraycan she was. Ezra had tried drawing once or twice, and found his Loth Cats looked like angry jogan fruits, and his people looked like a platter of noodles that'd just had a very bad day.

Apparently, reflection on his own inability to draw wasn't the best thing to do on an empty stomach.

But Sabine's art was almost less like a drawing and more like a piece of herself, like maybe if Ezra studied it enough, he'd see all the pieces of her she hid.

And if that was the case, then she must be absolutely beautiful.

"Wow," Ezra whispered, apparently not as quietly as he absentmindedly had thought.

"That doesn't sound like not talking," Sabine was quick to reply.

"Sorry," Ezra shook his head, not even having noticed until now how hard he was staring at her, "I just, how are you so good at that?"

"Practice," Sabine said, "a little hard work and discipline will get you pretty far."

"That's what Kanan's always saying," Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Well maybe you should start listening," Sabine called back, "or, at the very least, stop talking."

"Sorry," Ezra said, then looked back out at the horizon. As much as he enjoyed this secret painting session, he was getting hungry, and knew the rest of the crew would be suspicious if he missed a meal.

"We should get heading back soon," Ezra said, "It's almost dark."

"I'm almost done," Sabine said, adding one last white stripe, "there. Now I'm done."

Ezra got up and walked over to the TIE Fighter, in awe.

"Am I allowed to talk now?" Ezra asked.

"I guess," Sabine said. He could hear the sarcasm in her voice as she packed up her art supplies.

"It's amazing," Ezra said, "way to stick it to the Empire."

"I am pretty good at what I do," Sabine shrugged.

"Oh, more than that," Ezra said, "it's a shame no one else will ever see this."

"It's not about others seeing it," Sabine said, grabbing her case of spraycans, "this one was for me. It's about the process."

Ezra nodded. After seeing how lost in the process Sabine got, he understood why it all meant so much to her.

"Sabine?" he said, as they left the cave.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sharing it with me."

🧡•💜•🧡

Ezra had always thought Sabine was cool. He met her stealing from the Empire, and she'd jumped off a rooftop onto a moving speederbike— how much cooler could someone get? Combined with the custom armor and quick wit, she was strong contender for coolest person he'd ever met.

And the more he got to know her, the cooler she got. She designed her own armor. She was a weapons expert. She was, apparently, fluent in two different languages, which was probably what made her so quick to come up with insults.

Sabine always knew what to say, good or bad— usually scalding and rude— and Ezra didn't mind hearing it. Somehow she could make an insult feel as special as a compliment. It was almost like the sound of her voice was enough to give him unreasonable joy.

"Ugh," Zeb growled one night as he trudged into their room, "why haven't you gotten rid of that thing Sabine painted on the wall?"

"It's not a thing!" Ezra defended, sitting up on his bunk, "it's art."

"It's a stupid drawing of us from years ago," Zeb said, "and frankly, I'm getting tired of looking at it."

"Yeah," Ezra said, "well, I'm not."

He turned his back to him as he laid back down, but not before noticing a smile on the Lasat's face, and he could hear him chuckle over his shoulder.

"That's what I thought," Zeb said, smugly.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Zeb laughed, something surprisingly not unpleasant in his voice.

Ezra recognized that tone. It was the same tone the guys on the base used whenever he'd tell them about the latest mission he'd gone on with Sabine, and it usually carried a "wow, Bridger, when are you gonna just ask the tin can out already?" with it. The other young guys in the rebellion were, well, just that, young guys. They could scarcely go more than five minutes without talking about girls and who was going with who and which girls they would be going with if this war ever gave them a night off, so it was only natural that they'd joke about the possibility that Ezra had a crush on Sabine.

But Zeb? Zeb had never talked with Ezra about girls or feelings or anything like that before, never even hinted at it— until now. Something about a mostly-trusted, somewhat-wise, maybe-in-some-ways-experienced crewmate hinting at it made the possibility of Ezra liking Sabine made it feel all the more real.

"There's no way I have a crush on Sabine," Ezra thought, "I've never even seen her face before. I mean, she is amazing, coolest person I know. And sure, I like spending time with her, and anytime I start talking to her I don't want to stop, but that's normal, right? And sure, my heart skipped a beat that time she grabbed my arm to pull me out of the way of Imperial fire, but what if that's just the adrenaline of the fight, right? Just because I can't stop thinking about her and want to keep hanging out with her for the rest of my life and feel all giggly whenever I think about her doesn't mean I have a crush on her, right?"

He looked over at her handiwork graffitied on his wall and smiled rather stupidly.

"Who am I kidding?" Ezra sighed, "I definitely have a crush on her."

🧡•💜•🧡

It wasn't too long before Ezra had realized that not only did he have feelings for Sabine, those feelings were growing. More and more frequently, he caught himself thinking about her when he was supposed to be doing other things like Jedi meditations and recon missions.

A favored distraction of his male curiosity was Sabine and her constantly shrouded face. He respected her privacy, and never attempted to see her face— besides, maybe the mystery was part of the charm— and often when he'd fall asleep at night, he'd try to imagine what her face looked like. At first, the faces ended up looking similar to other people, girls he'd met on the base, a bounty hunter he'd had a run-in with, or even a merchant girl he'd seen in the village. But every time, she seemed Not Quite Right, and he'd try again. Eventually he started coming up with all kinds of versions of her— one night she'd be a redhead, the next he'd imagine her with green skin, then after that she'd have eyes that were just black blobs— it didn't really matter. He'd only ever see her with her helmet on anyway, so what did it matter?

But even with the helmet, anytime she walked in the room, he could feel his heart race like she was the most beautiful girl alive.

🧡•💜•🧡

"Karabast," Ezra muttered, jumping back a bit by instinct from the blue milk that overflowed from the glass he was pouring it into and spilling all over his hand, and now onto the floor.

"I should know better than to pour myself a drink when Sabine enters the galley," Ezra thought, setting his drink down on the counter behind him as he searched for a cloth to clean it up with, "a Jedi has to stay focused."

"Need a hand?"

He heard Sabine's voice behind him and turned around quickly— too quickly, as his forehead rammed into helmet.

"Ow!" Ezra said, wondering what could possibly make an armor that hard.

"Sorry," Sabine said, and her gloved hand touched the now-sore spot on his forehead, "are you alright?'

"I'm fine," Ezra said, ignoring the pain in his forehead for the moment. He'd dropped the towel, and now he swirled it around the floor with his foot to clean up the spill, knowing that as bad as the injury was, it couldn't be nearly as bad as what would happen if Hera caught sight of the mess he'd made. "My forehead isn't dented, is it?"

"I'm no medic," Sabine said, opening the conservator and scrounging around in it, "but it looks like it'll be the opposite. At least you'll be able to make up one of your elaborate stories about the bump it'll leave."

"Oh yeah," Ezra said, "about how I accidentally went head-to-head with a Mandalorian and ended up almost literally crying over spilled milk."

She laughed a little at his attempted joke, then pulled a frozen bag out of the conservator.

"Put this on it," Sabine handed it to him, "that'll numb the pain and slow the bruising, or something like that."

"Thanks," Ezra said, and as he pressed the bag of frozen rations to his forehead, Sabine bent down and finished taking care of his mess on the floor.

"What happened, anyways?" she asked.

"I guess I got distracted," Ezra said, still distracted by her.

"While pouring a glass of milk?" Sabine asked, looking up at him quizzically before turning back to her work of drying up the floor.

"Yeah," Ezra scratched the back of his neck.

"I've noticed you've seemed a little spacey recently," Sabine said, "almost distant. Something on your mind?"

"More like someone," Ezra said, before he could stop himself, and she looked up again before he had a chance to get that stupid love struck smile off his face.

She stopped what she was doing for half a second, then got up off the floor.

"I gotta go," Sabine said.

"Sabine...."

She tossed the towel onto the counter behind him and turned to leave, but Ezra didn't want to see her go, not now or ever. He searched his words for something to say that would make her stay.

"I don't know how to ask you out!"

Ezra could tell without even needing to see her face that, as unexpected as his words were, Sabine still couldn't've been more surprised to hear him say that than he was. Still, she stopped and turned halfway back to him, so whatever he'd just done, had accidentally worked.

"What?"

"Normally if I wanted to ask a girl out," Ezra said, knowing the oncoming ramble was going to sound desperate— which wasn't entirely inaccurate, "which, technically I never have— at least, not with it actually leading to a date— but if I did, I'd ask them if they wanna go get dinner, which you, specifically, don't really do with people. So then I'd ask about getting ice cream instead, but then: same problem. So then I've been trying to think of different activities you like that we could do together, but all I could think of is fighting the Empire and defacing government property— which we already do together, and could do more of, but those don't really sound like date night activities, unless we were holding hands, but...."

Sabine had walked over to him while he was rambling, and now she stood in front of him, arms crossed.

"Are you asking me on a date, Ezra?" Sabine asked.

"I'm trying to," Ezra said, "is it working?"

"Me?" Sabine asked, "you want to go on a date with me?"

"That's the hope," he shrugged, "if you're up for it."

"Why?" Sabine asked, "is this some cheap attempt to try and get my guard down? It's not some ploy to try to see me without my helmet, right? Because...."

"I know," Ezra said, "you don't take your helmet off. It's a clan thing. I wouldn't ask that of you."

Sabine took a heavy breath. "You'd really go out on a date with me, armor and all, just because you like to spend time with me? No ulterior motives?"

"Absolutely."

"And you're okay with the fact that you'd never see my face?"

"Absolutely," Ezra said.

"How about a holofilm at seven tomorrow night?"

"Eat dinner separately first?" Ezra asked.

"Sounds like a date."

He smiled as Sabine walked away, unsure how he'd managed to do that, but very glad that he had.

🧡•💜•🧡

About halfway through the holofilm, Sabine's hand found its way into Ezra's.

"You're okay with the fact that I'm wearing gloves?" Sabine had whispered.

"Of course," Ezra'd whispered back, his emotions a flutter at the mere fact that she was on a date was him, that her hand was in his at all, even with the layer of leather between them.

Sabine Wren had said yes to a date with him, and now their fingers were interlocked as they watched a holofilm together at the base's rec room. Her helmet, hard and heavy though it was, laid against his shoulder. What more could he possibly ask for?

As they walked back to The Ghost together afterwards, their fingers were still entwined.

Ezra noticed the chill in the air— he'd been planning on it, and had worn a jacket over his nicer shirt tonight, because he knew either he'd be cold, or, better yet, she'd be cold, and he'd have the chance to do what the boyfriends in all the old holos did.

Much to Ezra's delight, Sabine shivered as a gust of wind blew across the base.

"Those old Mandalorian traditions don't say anything against wearing a jacket over your armor, do they?" Ezra asked.

"Well, no," Sabine said, and before she could say anything more, he'd let go of her hand, taken his jacket off, and draped both the jacket and his arm over her shoulder.

"How's that?" Ezra asked.

Sabine huddled a little bit closer to him.

"Perfect," she said.

They walked together in silence for a moment, Ezra knowing full well that if he opened his mouth he'd ruin the moment and blow all chances of a second date.

"Ezra?" Sabine asked, her voice a whisper as they neared the Ghost.

"Yeah?"

She stopped in her tracks, and he did too.

"Do you want to do this again sometime?" Sabine looked at him, her head barely tilted up, a glimmer of a reflection of the stars in her visor.

"If it's all the same with you," Ezra said, his tone still hushed, "I'd like to do this again a lot more times."

"Really?" Sabine asked, "you wouldn't have a problem going steady with someone you've never seen face to face?"

"Of course not," Ezra said, and he turned toward her and took both of her cold gloved hands in his, "I could spend the rest of my life with you and still not have a problem with never seeing your face."

Sabine didn't respond, and Ezra was bad enough at reading expressions, but especially when he couldn't even see the other person's expressions. Maybe that was too soon, too fast. On any other first date, that would've seemed too forward, but when you've been fighting side by side with someone for years, living on the same ship and sharing your struggles, a first date hardly felt like the first one. Still, maybe something as big as "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," was a little too much for a first date doorstop conversation, and he'd probably ruined his chances right there.

He loosened his grip on her hands, but she tightened hers, not letting his hands slip away.

"I don't always have to wear my helmet, Ezra," Sabine said.

"What?" Ezra asked, "I mean, I know you take it off to eat, and probably to sleep too, and maybe when you use the sonic, not that I've thought about that, but you always have to wear it around others, right? That's what Hera said."

"Hera doesn't know everything," Sabine said, "I can take off my helmet, but...."

Her voice trailed off, but he desperately wanted to follow it. He nodded and squeezed her hands a little, silently pleading her to continue.

"Our clans customs don't say we can't ever take off our helmets," Sabine said, "but that the only person who can see us without our helmets is our ruusaar riduur, our life partner. It's a huge commitment, one that some spouses don't even make with each other."

Ezra smiled. "So you're saying I have a chance?"

"I'm saying there's almost no chance," Sabine said, "like I said, it's a commitment, and I don't do so well with committing to anything, and, besides, we'll probably fall apart before we reach that point anyway."

"Not on my watch," Ezra said, not about to let anything happen to push Sabine out of his life, "and thank you for telling me."

"This still doesn't change anything."

"Of course not," Ezra said, "I still love you just the way you are."

He was barely an inch or two taller than her, but that didn't stop him from standing on his tiptoes, leaning towards her, and planting a kiss on top of her helmet.

"Same time next week?" Sabine asked.

"It's a date," Ezra said.

🧡•💜•🧡

Several dates and missions and trials and soft-giggles-while-staring-at-each-other-from-a-distance-es later, Sabine found herself with the choice to go back to help her people. Though Ezra strongly encouraged her to go, it wasn't without tears on both of their parts, and if it wasn't for the whispered, "I'll wait for you"s in their goodbye hug before she left, he would've certainly assumed it was over for them.

But instead he held out hope for them, trusted that the same force that brought them together and connected them across the galaxy would bring them back together, and his waiting paid off not long after, when he found her in his arms again, this time in a hug that meant hello instead of goodbye.

"I've missed you," Ezra whispered, holding her tightly and not willing to let her go, ignoring for the moment that Kanan and her entire clan were watching them.

"Me too," Sabine whispered.

He then let her go, knowing he hadn't made a great impression on her family the first time he met them and wanting to rectify that— especially when they began the mission to save her father. Maybe he kriffed up in his first meeting with her mom and her brother, but he determined that her dad's first impression of him would be a good one.

🧡•💜•🧡

"Are you with my daughter?" Alrich asked, as Ezra jumped in to save him as part of their mission.

"If that's okay with you, sir," Ezra said, then realized the question was about the status of her rescue mission, not the status of her relationship, "I mean, uh, yeah, we're, uh, we're here to rescue you."

Though his answer wasn't more rambly than normal, he felt more like an idiot than normal. Sabine always found his stumbling through his words cute and endearing, but the other Mandalorians didn't appreciate his candid words much, preferring instead to see action. So, Ezra made sure to show plenty of it, fighting alongside them later with such reckless boldness that he took a blaster bolt to the left shoulder and still kept going until the battle was over.

As the medical droid tended to his wound, Sabine sat next to him, holding his right hand lovingly as she sent forth a flurry of angry Mando'an words at him that amounted to a more colorful version of "don't you dare do something that dangerous and stupid again."

"Aww, 'Bine," Ezra smiled under his helmet, (he always wore one of his repurposed helmets on Krownest, to respect her people's traditions,) "I didn't know you cared so much."

"Maybe next time that happens I'll just let you bleed out," Sabine teased.

"You wouldn't dare," Ezra said, "besides, what is it you always say? Something about finding my combat skills and selfless bravery attractive?"

"Bravery?" Sabine asked, "more like borderline stupidity."

"And this one was skillful, brave, and borderline stupid," Ezra said, wishing his helmet didn't hide the playful expression on his face, "admit it, you thought it was hot."

"Maybe a little," Sabine said nudging his uninjured shoulder with hers, "just never do something that ho- stupid again, understand?"

"You and I both know I can't avoid that," Ezra said.

"I know," Sabine faked an overdramatic sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.

🧡•💜•🧡

Apparently his heroics charmed the rest of the clan as well, especially Alrich. Sabine chose to return with Ezra and Kanan to the Rebellion, and as her family gathered to say their farewells, her father bestowed upon Ezra a special gift.

"We want you to have this," he said, and handed Ezra a shoulder pauldron, one that was inlaid with the Wren family crest.

"Thank you," Ezra said, studying the heavy hunk of metal he'd been gifted, then looking up at Sabine's parents with gratitude, "it's a huge honor."

"You were shot protecting our clan," Ursa said, "and Clan Wren honors that. This shoulder guard will protect your arm while it heals. Not even your lightsaber is strong enough to cut it."

"Is this real beskar?" Ezra asked.

"Of course," Ursa said, "it belonged to Sabine's ancestors. Clan Wren has carried it for generations, and counting."

Ezra didn't exactly have time to unpack all the meaning in that sentence, but he was pretty sure those last few words meant something along the lines of Ezra being on his way to becoming part of their clan now, a high honor.

"Thank you," Ezra said.

"Be good to her," was all Alrich said in reply, and as Sabine's hand slipped into Ezra's, he understood what he meant.

"I will," Ezra nodded, "I don't intend to do anything that stupid."

"He made a promise not to do anything stupid," Sabine said.

"The jury's still out on how long Bridger can keep from doing something stupid," her brother interrupted, "but he's earned my respect."

"I'll take care of her," Ezra said, "and if I don't, well, I have full confidence that she can 'take care' of me, and probably knows at least a dozen ways to hide the body."

"Two dozen," Sabine said, and that's when Ezra knew he'd been on Krownest for too long, because there was something almost romantic in the way she'd just threatened him, and he'd been around Mandalorians long enough that he enjoyed it.

🧡•💜•🧡

As soon as they were back on the ship on the way back to the fleet, Ezra took off his helmet. He didn't like how it limited his visibility, its awkward bulk, how heavy it made his head feel. He then took off his gloves so he could fluff his hair up a little— another thing he couldn't stand about his helmet was how sweaty it made his hair, and somehow at the same time staticky, clinging closely to his head in a way that didn't feel natural.

He heard a sigh behind him and saw Sabine sitting on the bench he stood next to, the chin of her helmet resting on her fists, her arms propped up on her knees, apparently watching him with great interest.

"What?" Ezra asked, smiling as he sat down next to her.

"I've missed your stupid face," Sabine sighed, her gloved hand running along his scars as though she thought she'd never see them again. Though they'd seen each other a lot these past few days, Ezra'd never taken his helmet off unless he was by himself— or with just Kanan, who obviously didn't mind that Ezra didn't follow Mandalorian customs around him, and if he had minded, wouldn't've noticed anyways.

But Sabine hadn't seen Ezra's face since before they first went to Krownest together, months ago, and from the tenderness of her leather touch, he knew it'd been too long for her.

"Well," Ezra said, trying to flirt back and failing to find the words, "I'd missed your stupid, uh, helmet?"

She laughed a little. "It's good to be going home."

Ezra slid his hand under and around hers, and whispered, "you have no idea."

🧡•💜•🧡

Not too long after, Sabine and Ezra sat in the only place they'd ever found they could share a quiet moment together on the Ghost, sitting next to each other on the bottom bunk in Sabine's room.

Well, "sitting next to each other" was an understatement. His arm was wrapped around her, and her hand held his, and her helmet rested on his chest, and they were talking and laughing with each other in a way they were sure no one else in the galaxy had ever experienced or could possibly understand.

"I still don't know how I managed this," Ezra said.

"Managed what?" Sabine asked.

"The coolest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the entire Rebellion is my girlfriend," Ezra shook his head, "not bad for a street rat."

Apparently only one word in that sentence mattered to Sabine.

"Beautiful?" Sabine asked, "Ezra, you've never seen my face."

"I don't have to to know that you're beautiful," Ezra said.

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, I've seen your art," Ezra started, "you're always saying that art is a reflection of the artist, and if that's the case, you must be absolutely gorgeous, because you're the most talented artist I've ever seen."

Sabine nestled closer to him and hid herself even further in his embrace, like she often did when she was embarrassed by how much Ezra was complimenting her. The joke was on her though, because he really enjoyed it when she did that, and it only made him want to shower her with even more praise.

"And I've heard your voice," Ezra said, "and anyone who can make an insult sound as pretty as you can must be very pretty herself. You have a really pretty laugh, too...."

"Okay, I get it," Sabine said, barely stifling a really pretty and slightly flustered giggle.

"I'm not done," Ezra said, "I've also seen how you fight, how graceful and smooth in even the most deadly battles. That's beauty. The pride in each and every one of your explosions that goes as planned, that's beauty. That tone of voice that makes me know your face is shining under that helmet: beauty; the heart you have that can't help but help others, no matter how you try to hide it— it's all so beautiful. You're all so beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful to me."

"But you still haven't seen my face," Sabine said.

"And I've told you a hundred thousand times it doesn't matter," Ezra said, "that I'd spend the rest of my life with you, even if I could never see your face."

"And do you mean that?"

"Every time."

"Not just the 'if you'd never see my face' part," Sabine clarified, "the other part. You said it when we were younger, that you'd spend the rest of your life with me if you could. Do you still mean that as much as you did back then?"

Ezra sat up properly, this conversation seeming to have gotten a bit more serious and wanting to show that he recognized that.

"Sabine, I mean it so much more than I did back then," Ezra said, taking both her hands in his, "every time I say it I mean it a little bit more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"But do you mean that?"

"With all my heart."

Sabine took a deep breath.

"It's not like I'll never take off my helmet," Sabine said, "showing my face would be a sign of commitment. It would show that I'm absolutely sure I want to spend the rest of my life with someone. I'd have to know that I love someone enough, with all my heart and soul, to want to them to be my forever."

"'Ruusaar riduur' is what you called it before," Ezra said.

"Yeah," Sabine said.

She slipped her hands out of his, and before he had the chance to wonder if it was because he'd done something wrong, he realized it must be because he'd done something right. Her hands gripped the sides of her helmet, then pulled it off her head.

Ezra found himself absolutely speechless as he looked the face that he'd loved for years but only met now. He'd pictured her looking hundreds of thousands of ways, but this face, with the big brown eyes, and the shy smile, and the dark hair that didn't even reach her shoulders and somehow looked flawless despite her having worn her helmet for the last few hours, and this face— her face— was the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.

It took him a moment to understand what it all meant. If she'd taken her helmet off, that meant that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him— the most beautiful girl in the world (and now he could with all the more integrity say that about her appearance) wanted to share her beauty with him, and only him, for the rest of her life? He didn't think he was lucky enough for this moment to ever come, but now, here it was, and she was lovely, and he loved her, and he'd never wanted to kiss her more in his life, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he could spend the rest of all time with her, and now, now he had to find some way to say the words that were swirling around in his mind.

💜•🧡•💜

"You don't have to do this," Sabine thought, as she let go of Ezra's hands, "he likes you, you like him. Why risk vulnerability and commitment?"

But as she looked at Ezra, she found she wanted commitment more than she'd ever imagined. She wanted him to know her face as intimately as she knew his, to see with his own two eyes who she really was, and for herself to look at him without her visor altering her perception.

So, slowly, giving herself enough time to stop herself if she regretted it, she pulled her helmet off her head, for the first time in front of another life form since she'd put it on as a child, what felt like a lifetime ago. It felt vulnerable, and terrifying, but also freeing. She looked up at Ezra and smiled a little, wondering if he loved her face as much as he loved the rest of her— as much as she loved him.

"Maybe this was a mistake," she thought, "maybe I should've just let him keep whatever version of me existed in his mind." She'd seen him flirt with lots of girls, back before they started dating, and none of them ever looked quite like her. What if, even without her armor, she still wasn't enough for him?

But the smile that spread across his face said it all, and if not, enough words tumbled out at a parsec a minute to make up for the verbiage his expression could've lacked.

"Why did you take off your helmet?" Ezra asked, and though anyone else could've left it at that question, the man she loved would never, and he followed it up with seventeen more. "how are you so pretty? I didn't know it was possible for someone to be so beautiful. Does this mean you want to spend forever with me, because I want to spend forever with you too? You're so pretty. I mean, that's not why I want to spend forever with you. I'd spend forever with you if I didn't get to see your face, but I'm so glad I get to see your face. You're literally the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life; I want to kiss you so badly. I mean, not that I'm gonna kiss you, unless you want me to, I just, I've never seen someone so beautiful in my whole entire life. I just, I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be so beautiful, I mean, not that I wasn't expecting you to be so beautiful, but I couldn't've expected you to be so beautiful, but, holy kriff…"

Sabine already had a hard enough time with Ezra complimenting her on things she was often praised for, like her abilities and talents, but now that he was complimenting her on her beauty— she didn't know what beauty was, and how was she supposed to know if she was beautiful? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and no one had beheld her before, especially not like this. As it was, she almost wished that she was still wearing her helmet, because she was blushing so hard it was almost embarrassing.

This had to stop. At the rate Ezra was going, he could go on talking like this for another three hours without sign of slowing down.

Though Ezra was the only boy she'd ever dated, she knew boys well enough to know they came with one handy special feature— there was a pretty easy way to shut them up, one she'd secretly been wanting to try since before they left Krownest. Somewhere in his rambled confessions, she'd heard the words, "I want to kiss you," and lucky for him, the feeling was mutual.

Before his lips could get him into any more trouble, she took over for them, grabbing him by the shirt collar and sending his lips crashing into hers. It still took him a couple seconds to grasp what was happening and shut up— that's about when the whispered "holy kriff" at the end came in— but he quickly understood the assignment, and as his lips touched hers, his hand touched her face, something passionate and gentle and unfamiliar and overwhelming. No one had seen her face before, let alone touched it. And now, here was his hand, his fingers twirling on her cheek, his other hand on her neck, with his thumb stroking a soft spot behind her ear.

She pulled away from him, all of it seeming too good to be true. But when she read the love and excitement in his shining blue eyes, she believed it herself.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

And now, she was absolutely certain that he meant it.

💜•🧡•💜

A few months later, they were back on Krownest— not for war, or for reunion, but for a wedding.

Sabine had told Ezra that he didn't need to adapt to her customs, that if they forged him his own armor, he'd be making the same commitment to it she had, but he insisted on becoming part of her world. She'd painted his armor herself, colors custom chosen by them both, and repainted her own armor to match it. He'd started wearing the helmet right away, partly because it was better than the repurposed trooper helmet he'd been wearing, and partly because he wanted to get used to the weight of it, and partly because he enjoyed looking like he belonged here.

But except for that and the left shoulder guard that he'd scarcely taken off since he got it, Ezra hadn't worn the rest of his armor until today, when they stood side by side in a private wedding ceremony they held on the Ghost. It was a small gathering, Sabine's family and the Spectres as the only guests in attendance, but the happy couple hardly even noticed them. The ceremony passed quickly, even for a Mandalorian one, which was always quick anyways.

If you'd asked her later, Sabine wouldn't be able to tell you much from that day, except for Ezra, and how she could almost feel the look on his face as he said his vows to her, and how deeply they both meant it when they declared themselves one with each other, and how there'd never been a more precious keldabe kiss (or "bonk of endearment" as Ezra would often call it in his silly little way with words) than the one that followed that ceremony.

And the most perfect moment of her life would come that night, when Ezra held her in his arms without a scrap of beskar coming between them, a pure, intimate, human connection, one that spoke of love, a love of their own, beyond either of their wildest dreams.

💜•🧡•💜

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antianakin · 9 months

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It's really hilarious that people think Anakin had a positive influence or impact on Ahsoka AT ALL given that he has now canonically abused her, betrayed her, tried to kill her, enslaved or murdered pretty much everyone she cared about, lied to her, abandoned her, and manipulated her against the Jedi.

Like all of Ahsoka's positive traits, what few are even left at this point, are all because of her upbringing among the Jedi. Like her positive traits are very specifically JEDI TRAITS.

But all of Ahsoka's NEGATIVE traits, her arrogance and anger and distance and mistrust and hypocrisy and struggles with attachment? All of that came about because Anakin either taught them to her or encouraged them in her or just straight-up failed to teach her well enough for her to grow out of them.

The ONLY impact Anakin ever had on Ahsoka's life was negative. Anakin made Ahsoka's life infinitely worse by being in it. There isn't a SINGLE positive thing he ever actually gave to her and Ahsoka would've been so much better off with literally anybody else. She might've died during Order 66, but honestly I think that would've been the kinder fate for her at this point.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical #ahsoka critical #ahsoka tano critical

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that-lazy-snail · 1 year

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Being a fan of Avatar (the movie with blue people) is literally the most exhausting fan experience I've ever had, and I'm a female Star Wars fan, who's favorite Star Wars movie is The Last Jedi.

I'm by no means claiming that the movie is flawless or even "great" but it is by scifi blockbuster standards pretty good. It's no more or less racist than the Star Wars prequels and the writing isn't any worse than the scriptwriting in the Star Wars prequels either, yet it's treated with such disdain among people on the internet that I can't even talk about it without receiving random hateful comments.

I cosplay from the movie, more specifically the new movie and an OC that I designed in 2018. I love the movie, especially the visual elements and the design of the Na'vi and their culture, I think it's a fascinating metaphor for our treatment of indigenous peoples and our planet, I love the themes the film presents. But I'm also aware that it's harmful to indigenous people as well because it promotes a white savior narrative, that it's harmful to disabled people by promoting the narrative that they can't live full lives unless they're normative. I don't deny those problems with the movie, and I have plenty of criticisms of the new film as well. Particularly the use of locks on Jake and Spider, and I saw a video on tiktok complaining about that and I left a comment saying that I really wish they hadn't done that and I thought it was a really poor styling choice since up until that point none of the Na'vi we'd seen have locks so it doesn't logically make sense to give them that hair style. I got quite a bit of response to that comment, some people agreeing with me but largely people were saying, "why do you cosplay it then?" "why do you support it then?" like is it not okay to like things and also have criticism for them? I'm allowed to like things about it and also not like things about it.

I also keep seeing videos saying that Avatar has no cultural impact, that it doesn't have a long lasting fan base despite having lore comparable to Lord of the Rings. Here's the thing with that, it totally does have lore comparable to Lord of the Rings but the fan base can't thrive like LOTR fans or even Star Trek could partially because the internet wasn't a space in the same way then as it was when Avatar came out and the other fact is the sheer amount of shaming and harassment that Avatar fans get. I've seen people leave the fandom because of the hate they received on the internet. They quite literally get bullied out of their enjoyment of the movie. People say that Avatar has no fans, but it's fans are chronically silent and reclusive in our liking of the film for fear of getting harassed. I am part of Facebook groups of that have thousands of members and a very active discord. Avatar fans exist, they just keep low and quiet so as to protect themselves. I know people who speak Na'vi in the same way people speak elvish or klingon, it's just not something we advertise because every time we try to share our enjoyment of the movie we get mean comments or mocking stitches/remixes of our videos, pictures, etc. It's not fun to be a public Avatar fan, it's scary and exhausting.

I love Avatar, Neytiri was one of the first truly strong and inspirational female characters I connected with as a child (I was 9 when the movie came out) and I was fascinated and enthralled with the world of Pandora, as were so many movie goers. I'm so tired of getting railed on for enjoying this movie, or even just the constant ridicule that comes through my feed about it. What happened to the golden rule of if you don't have anything nice to say (or on this case even anything that provides new/valuable commentary/criticism) don't say anything at all?

I'm so sick of hearing the same arguments I've heard a million times about why it's a retread plot of Pocahontas/Dances With Wolves/Ferngully, I've heard it all before, I've seen those movies before and their plots are in myths and any number of other stories, that's not why I love the movie. No amount of people saying that to me will change what I do like about the Avatar. I don't watch Avatar for the plot, I watch it for Pandora, and for the visual spectacle and the world building.

I'm sick of the argument that Avatar's treatment of indigenous voices is somehow worse than any other piece of media written by and for white communities, it's not. Even Avatar the Last Airbender (which is my favorite TV show of all time and is often acclaimed as a great example of native representation) also falls failure to the same mistake of casting white actors in POC roles and changing the narratives of natives to be more easily accepted and understood by white audiences. This is not to say that ATLA doesn't handle its message better than Avatar, but it's important to be aware of the ways in which all media has flaws, even the things we think are less problematic and it's important to acknowledge them and not tear the media down for it, but use it as means to make new media better. Cameron did improve with the Way of Water, he frequently consulted with the Maori tribes he was pulling inspiration from, there's literally articles written by Maori tribe members on it but it is still a white people movie, written by white people for white people so do with that what you will. But don't claim star wars is any better, the prequels were outrageously racist, and they still maintain majority white casts.

The new Avatar movie (the way of water) is not perfect, there are quite a few things I found to be poor choices in regards to cultural sensitivity (aka locks, and casting Kate Winslet as Ronal instead of a Polynesian actress) but it's still better than it's predecessor, and unlike so many people on the internet say, it is not "a bunch of white people playing poc" since neither Zoe Saldana, nor Trinity Jo-Li Bliss, or any of the Metkayina children or Cliff Curtis are white. In fact, Cliff Curtis is Maori, the culture that inspired the Metkayina and many of the extras who play background Na'vi in the films are POC, because in spite of James Cameron's failings, he did want the Na'vi to be played by people of color. Very very few of the Na'vi in the original movie are played by white people, only a few extras with less than 1 minute of screen time and no lines. All the major Na'vi roles were played by people of black and indigenous color. Eytukan was played by a Cherokee native, Mo'at (these people are the two clan leaders) is played by a indigenous woman from Africa and is very black. Zoe Saldana's parents are Dominican and Puerto Rican for god's sake! She is not white. This argument that he casts white people in POC roles is untrue. The Avatars are white cause they're meant to represent the invadors, wolf in sheep's clothing if you will. The Na'vi are bipoc, and they're played by bipoc.

After Avatar, James went to Brazil and became and activist for native communities. He went worked with Brazilian natives fighting the building of a dam over their local river, a dam with would power a major city in Brazil, but destroy the indigenous peoples access to water. He went to their community, and asked them what he could do to help. He donated money, protested, ran conferences and tried to disrupt the building of the dam using his influence, but it failed, and he had to watch the suffering of this indigenous tribe that he'd grown very close to in their time working together to prevent the dam. He's not Anti-indigenous as people love to claim, he's clumsy and arrogant (like all cis white men) but what he does is an attempt to elevate native voices not smother them even if he doesn't necessarily succeed.

The movie isn't the menace to society people portray it as, nor is it as boring or uncompelling as people claim. But I still can't go online to enjoy it because no matter what I say, I like it too much for "a bad movie" or I'm "too supportive of something harmful" although I still see people buying Harry Potter merchandise in the Barnes and Noble and I'd argue JK Rowling is an actively bigoted individual who's words and paychecks actively harm marginalized communities, unlike Cameron who despite his bumbling is trying his best and actually learning and doing better with the new content he puts out.

People also say things like, "You only like it cause you're white, no POC people like Avatar." which is blatantly untrue, I've seen native people who like it, black people who like it, I have black friends who like it, I know a black cosplayer who cosplays from it. In fact, I know more poc who cosplay from it than white people. Everyone is entitled to their opinion of the film, and should be allowed to interact with it without getting harassed. It's just exhausting to like it, so people don't say they do.

I'm tired of even the things that should be praised about the new film being used as a way to tear it down. Cameron said in an interview that he "likes Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman as characters but they're not mom's" when asked why he chose to make Neytiri a mother. Neytiri's motherhood doesn't detract from her warrior-ness, she's still a badass bitch and I think that's the point that this person on tiktok clearly missed. He wasn't saying you need women to be moms to be heros, but how many warrior women who are also mothers can you think of off the top of your head? I can't think of any. The choice to make Neytiri a badass mom wasn't to detract from single or childless female characters but to provide even more diversity in the kinds of strong female characters out there. I loved that 1/2 the cast of that movie was women, just as I loved Neytiri in the first film.

In conclusion, can we please stop making Avatar fans lives hell on the internet. I do my own research about how it is and isn't problematic and make my own decisions, I don't need strangers to yell at me. I just want to enjoy my silly ecoscifi movie about blue aliens. I'm aware of its issues and I do my best to raise awareness of the issues facing real natives, to engage with real native stories and voices and support their protests, legal persuits, tribal sovereignty, land back etc, and be the best ally I can be, but I'm not going to boycot this movie because it does some problematic stuff, or because it has an unoriginal plot, if I did that I could never watch another marvel movie again (and yes they're just as bad if you dig, look at the early ones especially) I'm so sick of the insane amount of factually unsupported hate this movie gets and of having to deal with it. I'm tired, I just want to enjoy my movie which is no worse than any other white backed and driven Hollywood blockbuster.

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar 2009 #james cameron #avatar james cameron

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merlyn-bane · 5 months

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hi hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii if you're still doing foelu prompts i would love to see cody and helix and the baby just being soft dads <3333

or really anything helix-centric tbh

So uh,,,,this one got a little tiny bit out of hand and is much longer than the other fills have been, whoops 😅😅 I hope this is Helix-centric enough for you, my love<3 There's a little bit of everything, from fluff to humor to spice!

Without further adieu, I present to you Baby Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~~~~~~

By the time Obi-Wan brings up the possibility of having another child, they’ve all pretty much accepted that it likely wasn’t going to happen. It’s not something they’d ever really discussed, after all, and none of them had really wanted to be the ones to bring it up for fear that Obi-Wan might feel in any way obligated to carry again just to give them another child. Especially given that—regardless of the fact that he’s made it very clear that he has no regrets about it now—the first pregnancy wasn’t exactly his choice to begin with and had been fairly traumatic from start to finish to say the very least. Helix had frankly assumed that Obi-Wan would want nothing to do with gestation ever again as long as he lived, and personally thought that would be more than fair.

Besides, just him and Kai-Tal are—so much more than enough. More than any of them ever thought they’d have.

He thinks it must have been either Waxer or Rex that had held out hope the longest, but after a decade passes with the Jedi giving no indication of even considering having another ik’aad, it becomes a little difficult even for them to think that he might change his mind eventually.

But then one day, he just…does. Helix couldn’t even say what could have possibly prompted it. They’re all just…settling in for bed one night, following a day just like any other, and then Obi-Wan’s sitting up and folding his hands in his lap all prim and then asking them if they might, perhaps, be interested in having another child. If they might like, even, to get a child on him themselves, in the standard natborn way.

Cody recovers enough to actually respond first, even if he’s still slack-jawed. “We’re—the Kaminoans made us sterile, cyare,” he murmurs, and it sounds like it breaks his heart to do so. It probably does. Who among them hasn’t thought of what that might be like, to have a child that’s part them and part Obi-Wan? “You know that.”

Obi-Wan considers Cody seriously, clearly taking the time to carefully mull over what he wants to say next. “Do we know that for certain,” he asks finally, “or is that just what you all were told?”

The five of them glance at each other with wide eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever checked,” Helix allows finally, the words sounding halting even to his own ears, “but I can’t imagine why they would lie to us about something like that.”

“Not lie,” Obi-Wan corrects, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. He strokes absently at his beard and Helix finds himself—rather surprisingly—having to work to suppress a small fond smile at the tic. “It is not a large leap, I feel, to think that Jango Fett himself might have been sterile, given the trouble he went to himself in order to have a son, and it’s feasible that the scientists didn’t think to ensure that you all would be, too.”

“But we’re…clones of him, mesh’la,” Waxer frowns, “isn’t that the sort of thing that usually gets passed down?”

Obi-Wan grins, suddenly, looking oddly conspiratorial. “Not if he became so as the result of an accident or illness rather than genetics.”

“Prime had spmumps as a youngling,” Helix whispers, feeling his own eyes widen a fraction further. “I saw it in his medical file. He—it’s—not impossible. In theory. It might…actually be worth looking into.”

The Jedi’s grin broadens. “Excellent,” he says. “And after that, we can have my contraceptive implant removed, and you all can come inside me one after another until it takes.”

“I vote we start practicing right now,” Boil growls playfully, yanking Obi-Wan into his lap by his hips and kissing his laughing mouth.

~~~

They aren’t…they aren’t sterile.

Every single vod in their polycule gets tested, and then a few of the others that they're closer to across different batches just for a larger sample size. There is some variation in their counts and other factors which doesn’t actually surprise him—even cloning to the sort of strict perimeters adhered to by the Kaminoans, some variability is inevitable—but it’s all consistent enough that Helix feels comfortable putting word out to the Vode at large.

It’s only then that Helix comes to his next concern.

Obi-Wan had not exactly been young when he’d carried the first time, not by natborn humanoid standards, and that had been a little over a decade ago. Helix by this point has done a fair amount of study and penned no small amount of papers on reproductive biology in a frankly somewhat surprising and entirely inadvertent specialization—has somehow become known as one of the foremost experts on the subject regarding the Stewjoni people within the Republic, much to Eil-Idh’s seemingly unending amusement, even—and is very much aware of the increased risks that come with pregnancy as a being gets older. Things like gestational diabetes or preeclampsia, not even to touch on the risks to the potential child themselves.

So Helix sets up a conference call with himself and Vokara with Eil-Idh to determine if such a pregnancy would even be truly feasible—because Helix isn't willing to risk Obi-Wan’s health, and he knows the others won't be either—and tries not to feel too much like he's been caught in a time loop.

The first words of of Eil-Idh’s mouth are “What has that damned fool managed te get himself into now?”, which Helix finds much funnier than he probably should and which garners snorts from him and Vokara both.

“That is about what I was wondering as well,” Vokara says dryly, raising a brow at Helix, and Helix sighs before scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Obi-Wan is thinking about carrying again.”

Eil-Idh blinks at him. “Aye? That's a surprise. I half figured the lad had mind te have his womb removed entirely by the end of the first one. How is yer wee one, anyhow? She was quite a precocious lass, last I heard.”

“Let’s just say that I'm glad we have so much help,” Helix replies wryly, smiling fondly despite that. “And that's about what I'd thought, too. He caught us all of guard when he brought it up, especially since it's been so long.”

“Aye, he's certainly nae spring nuna.” Eil-Idh drums her fingers on her desktop. “But then, I'll wager that's exactly what ye're calling me about. He's approaching fifty now, isn't he?” The midwife shakes he head, pursing her lips. “I've little doubt he could do it, stubborn and hardy as he is, and it wouldnae be te first I've seen, but it wouldnae be my preference.”

“I think this is where I come in,” Vokara grins, sitting forward and folding her hands together. “As Jedi, our relationship with the Force affects the impact that the passage of time has upon our physical bodies. As younglings we age on par with our Force-null peers because that relationship is still new, but the longer we have communed with the Force, the more that aging slows. Many Jedi that are not lost in the field live much longer lives than even other members of their own species.” Vokara turns an even more excited grin onto Helix. “And our observations over the last ten or so years have suggested that that effect may even be seen by those nulls that do spend enough time in proximity to us.”

Well that would explain a lot, Helix thinks. Even with the gene therapy that's long since been rolled out to them all to address their advanced aging, he's pretty sure his back should bother him a lot worse than it does. “So you don't have any concerns?”

“About his age? No. I wouldn't recommend that you go for a third, probably, but especially with Obi-Wan spending so much more time in the Temple now with access to the full breadth of our medical resources and what we learned from his first pregnancy, his age isn't what I'm worried about.” Vokara tilts her head a little. “I would be more worried about the potential of the advanced aging gene being passed down. It's dominant, isn't it?”

“It is.” Helix swallows. “You're worried it would double the rate of gestational development and put it past what his body could support.”

Vokara nods seriously before glancing over at the midwife. “What do you think, Eil-Idh?”

“I think I'd rather not find out,” she replies, blunt as ever. “How sure are ye that's how it would work?”

“Not very,” Helix answers truthfully. “That hasn't been my area of focus. But I can touch base with Kamino and see what they know; Bones is still out there last I heard.”

“Do that,” Vokara says. “We'll go from there.”

~~~

“Don't tell me our Jedi's gone and fuckin’ sprouted again,” Bones answers without preamble once the comm. connects, glancing up from a datapad. The other medic seems to be in the temporary office he's held for ten years, which reassures Helix that he's probably not interrupting anything critical.

“What, no ‘Hello, Helix, how are you’?” Helix mocks, “No ‘Been a while, vod, I'm surprised your sanity's still kicking’? ‘How's your ad'ika’? You're just going to jump straight in to asking me if we're having another one?”

“My bedside manner will improve when yours does,” Bones drawls. “You don't make social calls, Helix, you send me a text comm. every quarter and ask if my riduur has finally had enough of my attitude and fed me to the strill yet.”

“And I am continually disappointed.” Bones's Mandalorian wife seems to actually like him for some reason, despite his perpetual grouch and the fact that they're still on Kamino when Helix is near certain they'd been supposed to have a successful curry shop in Little Keldabe by now. Helix squints at him. “Obi-Wan wants to have another baby,” he tells the other man bluntly, “but he wants to do it the standard natborn way this time. I'm concerned about how our advanced aging would affect a pregnancy.”

Bones snorts. “We're just going to ignore the other glaring issue with this plan?”

“I've already run that part by Che,” he says irritably. “That's not what I asked you.”

“You didn't actually ask me anything,” the other medic points out. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really think that over the span of a decade, none of our siblings have managed to knock up a natborn, Helix? Really.”

“Then how come this is the first I'm hearing about it?” he snaps. “We all still thought we were sterile until Obi-Wan made the suggestion that we check.”

“Well I suppose they must have wanted their privacy. You know we don't publish that shit publicly because the Republic media likes to turn any developments with the Vode since the war ended into a shitstorm of feel-good porn to soothe their own guilty consciences.” His brow raises a notch higher. “And I'm a little busy advancing our scope of knowledge to notify you personally. It's all on our private medical servers if you'd thought to look.”

Helix ignores the dig. Bones isn't actually wrong. “So it can work, then? Obi-Wan could carry our biological children safely?”

“Safely? If Che's comfortable with him gestating at all at his age, sure.” Bones taps his fingers against his bicep where his arms are still folded. “Comfortably? That's subjective. It's only the one molecule that actually causes the development rate to double; with the kid getting one modified gene from you and a standard one from the other parent, the development rate lands somewhere in the middle. From what I've seen gestation will probably last about seven and a half months and he'll feel more or less like he's carrying twins. His symptoms'll be worse and you'll want to monitor everything more closely but if you're asking if I think it'll seriously jeopardize him, then no. And since I know this'll be the next question: the kid would be able to receive the same gene therapy the rest of us did once they're born. We even already have the dosages figured out. They just can't receive it in utero.”

Helix frowns, mulling that over. It's beginning to sound doable, at least, but Helix would really prefer for his partner to not have to be miserable for seven and a half months if it can be avoided—even though he knows that such a thing would never be enough of a deterrent for Obi-Wan. Maybe even more so because of that. “What about IVF? Then we could edit the genes in the embryo stage like you all did for that first round of tubies after you got the gene therapy figured out. Get rid of the advanced aging factor altogether ahead of implantation.”

“Sure,” Bones agrees jovially, “if you think you can get Obi-Wan Kenobi to agree to leave the Temple for three weeks to undergo a series of medical procedures here on Kamino when his other option is getting fucked in his own bed.”

Helix groans, burying his face in his hands while Bones laughs at him. “I hate it when you're right,” he grumbles. “Genuinely.”

~~~

Helix lays all of this information out in front of the other members of the polycule once he has it so that they can make a decision together, because that's how they do things, and he'd been pretty sure going into it that he'd already known the answer, but Obi-Wan of course manages to catch him off guard regardless.

“So, you're telling me that if just have you all get me pregnant the old fashioned way, the baby's advanced aging can still be treated postpartum and I only have to be pregnant for seven and a half months?”

“Why are you saying that like it's a benefit?” Helix stares at the fucking madman he'd somehow managed to fall ass over bucket for, aghast.

For his part, Obi-Wan only shrugs placidly. “It certainly sounds like one to me.”

“Di'kut, did you miss the part where I also told you that your symptoms are going to be worse? It's going to feel like you're carrying twins, Obi-Wan.”

“Well Padmé managed it well enough,” the Jedi sniffs. “And I get to evict them a month and a half early. I'm failing to see the downside here, darling.”

Helix groans and buries his palms in his eye sockets, long-suffering. Cody pats him on the shoulder. The others just chuckle. “Why do I bother,” he mutters.

Obi-Wan grins, unrepentant. “Would you like to go first?”

~~~

Not all of the research that Helix does in the lead-up to Obi-Wan’s second pregnancy is quite so serious or unpleasant.

In fact, the fruits of some of it turn out to be quite fun.

For instance, Helix has read extensively about the ideal conditions for conception. The best diet for his partner in the lead-up, the most opportune timing, the optimal positions, et cetera. There's little truely empirical evidence for most of it, but if it might help and there aren't any major drawbacks that he can see? Helix sees no reason not to give it a shot.

There's also the fact that Obi-Wan has left the planning of all of these details in the conception of their second child in Helix's hands. He has allowed the careful scheduling, allowed Helix to direct things more in the bedroom (despite some mild teasing from the others, who have seemed happy enough to play along regardless), has even allowed Helix to plan out the majority of his meals for him—all with a considering gaze and a barely-there quirk to his mouth, as though the Jedi knows that some part of Helix is enjoying all of it more than he'd maybe expected. That he's getting off on the control and the willing submission of a man that Helix knows is one of the most stubborn motherfuckers in the galaxy when he wants to be. It's... heady. Very heady.

That man's head is in his lap right now, a pillow under his hips to support the angle they've been propped up into and Helix's fingers carding through the sweaty strands of his hair in an almost parody of a soothing touch while Cody feverishly ruts into his cunt—the cunt where Helix has already left his own spend. “Been a while since we've just run a train on you, hasn't it, Obi-Wan?” Helix croons, smirking at the hazy blue eyes that flicker up to his face when he speaks but don't quite focus. “You've gotten a little too used to just getting everything you want all at once, I think. Just look at you, ner jetii, you've only taken two of us and you're already out of your poor little head. Cody hasn't even come yet, you've still got four more loads to go.”

Obi-Wan chokes on a moan and the former commander swears viciously, readjusting his hold and shifting his knees a little and then picking up the pace even more, somehow. “Kriff,” Cody growls through bared teeth, a sentiment that seems to be echoed by the rest of them—Waxer, Boil, and Rex all staring slack-jawed at the sight that they must make. Rex in particular looks like he's just barely reigning himself in until it's his turn; but then, Helix wouldn't expect much else from the vod that frequently enjoys licking his own come out of the Jedi's hole only to fuck more into him in an endless cycle until Obi-Wan cries from the overstimulation.

Not that any of them had really been less affected when their partner confirmed that he'd had his birth control implant removed.

They all fuck him one after another until the Jedi's poor cunt is puffy and red and overflowing and then they leave him like that, with his hips propped up and laying back against Helix barely conscious and grinning like a dolt while they give their seed its best chance to take.

And then they do it all again the next night, just in case.

~~~

Helix is hovering.

Just a little bit—or maybe a lot, possibly. He knows he is. But with his partner approaching the halfway mark of his shortened pregnancy and every bit as miserable as Helix had feared, it's hard not to. He hasn't developed any signs of complications or any serious conditions, mercifully, but Helix is poised to catch it immediately if that changes.

“I hardly need an escort to the ‘fresher, darling,” Obi-Wan grits through his teeth as though he is not actively using Helix's arm to hold himself steady, clearly making an attempt to modulate his tone into something less biting but not quite managing. Helix barely notices at this point; the Jedi's hormones have been downright torrential, and the physical discomfort has been no help to his moods. If he is not waspish, he is weepy, and if he is not weepy, he is horny enough that Helix isn't certain they could've handled it with any less than the five of them they have.

He'd all but cried all over Kai-Tal when she'd earned the first bead of her padawan braid, and then again when she'd earned the second.

They are all managing as best they can.

“I don't want to see you fall over again, Obi-Wan,” Helix argues, though he's careful not to let the words sound accusatory. Obi-Wan scoffs anyway.

“You take one little tumble—”

“Your entire center of gravity is off and you know it,” Helix reminds him firmly. “Worse than the first time. I told you—”

“And I stand by my decision,” Obi-Wan snips, scowling. “Now would you very much mind either shutting up or fucking me?”

Helix snorts softly. “Yeah, alright, Master Kenobi. ‘Fresher first, then maybe we'll talk about it.”

~~~

Helix gets to be the one to deliver their son.

Obi-Wan’s labor goes much, much smoother the second time around—the exact way he’d wanted it to back then, even. The contractions begin in the morning just after firstmeal, and they all have plenty of time to reschedule any obligations they may have or delegate any responsibilities that can’t wait before things progress enough for them to walk down to the Halls of Healing, where they are met by Vokara and Bant.

If anything, with the absence of the stress and adrenaline that had kickstarted Kai-Tal’s delivery, Obi-Wan’s labor this time is slower than the Jedi would like. He spends a fair amount of time bouncing on an exercise ball and harassing his créchemate before things really start to kick off, and by then, Bant is more than ready to give him his epidural.

They all remember his feelings on that matter.

It’s Cody that Obi-Wan holds onto for support once it’s decided that it’s time for him to start getting into position, gripping his hands as he squats down. Assuming that Bant will be the one handling the delivery, Helix stands off to the side with the others and tries to fight the urge to pace until the Mon Calamari healer snorts at him and tilts her head.

“What are you doing over there?” she asks him, her voice all gentle teasing as she folds her arms across her chest. “You’re a medic too and it’s your baby.”

Helix swallows. “I—are you sure?”

“Oh for Force’s sake,” Obi-Wan snaps, pulling his head back from where he’d been pressing his forehead against Cody’s just enough to glare up at them. “Get down here. Bant and Vokara will be here to assist if needed but you are perfectly capable of catching our son, Helix.”

Helix will deny the goofy smile that takes over his face as long as he lives but is totally unable to help it as he moves into position, kissing Obi-Wan’s cheek along the way. “Alright, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

“I know,” the Jedi grunts in response. The pushing starts not long after, and the next two hours pass in a blur of everybody working to help support Obi-Wan through the process in any way they can.

Helix has never been more in awe of their Jedi. It had been one thing to know, in theory, what he had gone through to bring Kai-Tal into the world. It is another thing entirely to actually watch him go through the process now and know that this time he’s doing it in a proper medical facility with the support of his partners and access to painkillers he hadn’t had then.

Their son comes into the world at seven pounds and eleven ounces just in time for latemeal at seven and a half months on the dot, screaming his fury at them all for the egregious crime of removing him from the quiet warmth of his father’s body and already looking…just like his buir’e. There’s a little bit of Obi-Wan in the shape of his eyes and chin, but other than that…

“You were right,” Helix tells his partner once they all finally have a moment to breathe, his voice unmistakably hoarse and wobbly as he stares down into their son’s perfect face. “Someone’s going to think you kidnapped him, one of these days.”

“It’ll serve me right, I suppose,” Obi-Wan snorts, looking tired but happy in the biobed he’d been helped into as he holds his arms out for the boy. Helix lays the baby on his chest—only a tiny bit hesitant to relinquish him—and Obi-Wan hums quietly as he smiles down at the boy before glancing back up at his partners, the five of them all crowded close. “We are still calling him Keeli, I presume?”All eyes go to Rex, who hasn’t bothered to wipe any of the moisture from his face as he stares down at their son. Keeli had been his batchmate, after all; Obi-Wan had insisted that they chose the child’s name this time since he’d chosen Kai-Tal’s, and they’d all been at a loss until Rex had quietly asked if they could name him after his vod that hadn’t lived to see the end of the war. None of them had had the heart to tell him ‘no’, and besides, there were much worse names in the galaxy than Keeli Kenobi. “Yeah,” Rex whispers, reaching down to stroke his thumb through the baby’s thatch of dark curls. “Keeli Kenobi.”

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