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anakinskywalker97 · 3 months

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Trash Compactor

Anakin Skywalker X Padawan Reader

Summary: Your Anakin's Padawan and while stuck in a trash shoot the two of you get a little too close. Reader is legal but extremely innocent and inexperienced having been brought up in the Jedi Temple. Thinking about a super smutty part two.

Warnings: Fem Orgasm - not super detailed this is more fluff than smut.

Part Two - Smut

You knew he was having a rough time, through your force bond you had accidentally looked into his thoughts during force training. He was distracted so accidentally pushing into his mind was easy for you.

You were lying in bed staring up at the ceiling of your compartment. Your whole body felt raw and painful. Anakin had been pushing you harder and harder in training.

That’s where you found out his secret.

He and Padmae had been in love. That piece of information alone was enough to keep you up for the past three nights, but they had also broken up because she had cheated. You kept trying to work out the timeline and the age difference but you couldn't wrap your mind around it. Or figure out how no one noticed. The tabloids followed her every move, not to mention Obi-Wan was very protective of Anakin.

Anakin wasn’t happy that you had heard things in his mind, but that had also been the point of the task. He just didn’t think there was any way you would pick it up that fast. Normally force bonds like the one between the two of you took years to establish.

Since then it’s been all sparing. An all forms free for all against him for hours. You and him had a tense relationship at the best of times. Anakin and you both felt the world and echother deeply. It lead to a lot of shared frustration.

There was a whirring sound followed by a bunch of beeping. R2 had shot past your room at top speed by the sound of it. Your body jolted up thinking that maybe the ship was under attack. You grabbed your robe and ran out into the hallway.

You chased after the little droid till you heard Anakin in your mind.

What are you two doing?

I don’t know I thought we were under attack.

Why would we be under attack?

Why else would R2 be freaking out?

I told you to go to bed.

Well, I thought we were in danger

The door in front of the droid opened and he moved into the darkness. Before you heard Anakins mental arguing you felt him crash into the back of you sending you both falling into the darkness.

You used your training to cushion your blow. Not as well as Anakin, but still you were unscathed in the dim light of the… trash compactor.

“R2 I swear I’m going to kill you for this,” Anakin grumbled at his beloved droid, who let out a cooing sound in response. “Fuck” He ran his hands through his hair giving you a chance to admire his untied robe and black boxers. It smelled and it was gross, but you would do it a hundred more times if it ment you could see him in only his boxers.

You looked away quickly and began to try and find an escape latch.

That’s when you felt the walls begin to move.

“Master.” Your voice was shaky and you felt his large hand grip your shoulder.

“Don’t freak out.” He said calmly, you felt his peace wash over you. A lot of the time he was wrapped up in anger, but whenever you got scared he would find enough calm inside him for the two of you.

“There!” You pointed at a maintenance ladder with an emergency release lever. The only problem was it completely out of reach.

“Here just climb up on me.” The walls were now dangerously close and you couldnt think of a better option. You nervously let him pick you up. He pressed your back against one of the walls and moved your leg over his shoulder. Your chest became tight and you fought for every shallow breath. His hands were all over you. Grabbing your ass and on your thigh. The walls got stuck against R2 and stopped. You were stuck up against him.

“Use the force.” He said patiently. You took a breath and tried to stop feeling his hands on you. His fingers digging into your flesh, his face practically between your legs. You leveraged yourself up a bit and got your foot on his shoulder.

______________

Anakin had been in a lot of tense situations. Why his exceptionally capable Padawan was suddenly force resistant when stuck in the bottom of a trash compactor was beyond him. She should be able to lift herself up. But he was doing all of the heavy lifting while her whole body shook with tremors.

Sure it was gross, and it was a bit cold but not enough to make her shake this badly. He tried to reach out to her mind to calm her down further but it was shut down completely.

When her foot slipped on the silky fabric of his robe it all made sense. His cheek was pressed into her hot center, and he could tell just how wet you were by the way your pj shorts slid along your hot flesh.

You let out a hiss and he could feel you start to freak out.

“It’s okay. It’s just me.” He tried to still his own emotions but found it incredibly difficult. “I’m not going to let you fall. I’ve got you.” His voice was more certain and he heard you take a breath.

You tried to right yourself and push back up on one leg. His hands grabbed the flesh of your ass to steady you and he wanted to laugh at how much it impacted you. Touch-starved Padawan.

Well, technically he was still a touch-starved Padawan too. He cleared his mind and tried to focus on the task at hand. You got yourself into a standing position on his shoulders. He grabbed your calves feeling like it probably wasn't helping.

He looked up and saw your body elongated to it’s limits reaching for the bottom wrung of the ladder.

“Use the force to steady you and jump.”

“I can’t jump from on top of you!” You hissed. Your weight on his shoulders like this wasn't pleasant but it certainly wasn't unmanageable.

“You’re light enough.” He said easily. “Clear your mind.” He felt it was a bit mean, he could feel the stress his presence was putting on your body. Your legs were barely able to keep you upright let alone balanced on his shoulders.

He gave you a moment then he felt you bend your legs slightly. You pushed off and didn't come crashing down. Looking up you were dangling on the bottom wrung of the ladder. He felt you pull yourself up and then heard the bottom bar break.

He caught you, hating himself for liking the way you clung to him so tightly.

He had you balanced on his hips with your weight against the wall. With most of the space gone, he was fine keeping you like that till he figured out a plan. You on the other hand were as tense as possible with your legs still shaking. He decided that was enough fun for one night and was about to put you down when you shifted your hips against his. The friction was electric and the sound that got caught in the back of your throat was officially pushing things too far.

He should put you down or make you sit on top of R2.

He made a vow to protect you and that meant from everything, even himself.

With your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and your face pressed to his neck, you shifted again and he was questioning if it would be so bad just to let you continue.

You weren't a child, only a few years younger than him. An adult. His hands gripped your ass a little tighter and he loved the way your body shuddered for him.

I should put you down

Or?

He pressed his hips against yours and rubbed his length against your soft flesh. The noise you made was all he needed. He would do anything to hear that sound. Feel the way your body embraced him.

Your hips were uncoordinated and bucked against him, he found it endearing. There where clothes, not much, between you and yet Anakin had never felt so naked. Your mind was completley open to him, your pleasure running into the force bond around them like warm bath water.

He controlled the pace and felt your body get more and more strung out. Your hand curled into the hair on the back of his head. He moaned and it was enough to push you over the edge. Your body clamped shut around him, your legs like a vice. He held you there his hard cock pressing against your very wet core. He wanted nothing more than to rip off your shorts, press himself deep -

“Master.” Your voice was just above a whisper. “I don’t think that was a Jedi thing.”

He pulled his face away to look at you. Your eyes were bright and chest was heaving.

“You mean in 25 years, you never -” Ankin shrugged.

“Felt that?” You asked confused.

“Yeah.” He said already knowing the answer. No wonder you were so uptight. You shook your head and he moaned again.

__________________________________________________

“If what I think is happening down there is happening. It better not be.” Obi-Wan’s voice called out as the doors to the compactor were pried open. You pulled Anakin’s hair again as you jumped in surprise then started to panic at his words.

Calm down

I can’t

Yes you can, just follow my lead

He tried to put you on the ground but your legs were like shaking jello. Your whole body was an uncoordinated mess. The fuck did he do to you. And why did you want him to do it again so badly?

He picked you back up the usual way he carried you when injured. You kept your face tucked against him wishing you could melt away into the floor.

Obi-Wan hit the emergency button and the walls began to move apart and eventually, the floor rose up to the hallway. Anakin moved out into the light and you tried to keep yourself together.

“Two Padawans against a trash compactor.” He looked angry with Anakin. “The war is hopeless”

“R2 Ran into it, like there was something down there or - maybe he was running from something?” You tried to sound competent, hoping to take the attention off of your master.

“I have no idea what that droid -” Anakin caught his eye and he sighed. Anakin hated it when Obi-Wan went off about the little droid. “The ship has been scanned. No one on board to scare him.” Obi-wan answered.

“Well, if that’s the case I’ll look at him after I get you to the med bay.” He turned his attention back to Obi-Wan “Twisted ankle.”

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a strange look and then he was out of view as Anakin turned and started to carry you down the hall.

“I can still walk you know.” You said in your usual cool tone.

“Right, so we can stay up all night limping to the med bay. Excellent suggestion, Padawan.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

_________________________

Obi-Wan stood in the hallway watching his very flushed and awkward Padawans move down the hall. The force bond around them was unlike one he had ever seen before and now it was even more fierce. Their flushed faces and the fact that Anakin was walking in the opposite direction of the med bay made him feel obliged to chase after them to talk to them before they got themselves into real trouble.

He felt a strange feeling on his shoulder, he turned to see Qui-Gon’s spirit next to him.

“The force put them together. He needs her more than you understand. It will go above the Order.”

Obi-Wan only nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

Qui-Gon laughed then faded out. Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair wondering how his life got this complicated.

_______________________

Anakin carried you to his room, taking you directly into the bathroom. He placed you in the tub and grabbed the edges of your robe. He slowly pulled it from your shoulders. He wanted to undress you and wash you down, but your wide eyes made him hesitate. How you were so impossibly pure and innocent blew his mind.

You want me to go?

You shook your head and he moved to get the rest of your clothes off. Every brush of his fingers made your breath catch. He knew what the responsible thing to do was. Even if it felt like it would kill him. He got undressed and got you both cleaned up.

He watched you observe his naked form, and it felt nice to be admired. Scared from missions and this stupid war, none of it seemed to bother you. You looked at him with desire, but he could feel that steady bond between the two of you that made it so much more. He never felt this way with Padmae. He was a secret, something she was often ashamed of. Somewhere deep down inside he felt she only really enjoyed their time together because it was forbidden.

Thinking of her made his mood shift, something he only noticed when he looked at you. Something flared in your eyes and you crossed your arms over your chest. He hated how every one of his emotions was available to you and how every time you internalized them as a reflection of yourself.

You looked crumpled. He knew how that felt, especially when under the gaze of a lover.

He shut the shower off and grabbed a clean towel. He wrapped you up in it and picked you up. He threw you onto the bed and felt things between you lighten considerably as you let out a surprised laugh. He grabbed you a cotton sleep shirt from his closet and threw it at you. He put on a clean pair of boxers and followed you onto the bed.

So I’m staying the night then?

I’d like you to

The words were difficult. There was lust and attraction but something deeper inside Anakin. You were vulnerable, to vulnerable to be left in your room alone for the night. He wanted all of you, but the good in him just wanted to hold you. He tucked you into his side and felt both of you settle into a deep sense of comfort.

So is that what sex is like?

Anakin laughed and you smacked him playfully. He didn't particularly want to have this conversation, he wanted to sleep.

Have you really never had an orgasm?

No?

Why?

I thought you had to you know - You shrugged your shoulders.

I guess it’s not really taught as we are supposed to be free of attachment and all

Did you love her? - Anakin didnt want to answer. It was too much, too personal. But then again there was no one else to tell, all his secrets were yours at the end of the day anyway.

Yes, but not for a long time.

I’m sorry - He could feel your love surround him, he felt unworthy of it.

We should probably figure out whatever this is

Maybe it’s just what’s meant to be - Anakin could feel your meaning. Everything about them was abnormal, how they came to be paired, how they could fight side by side, how they were interconnected to such a high degree. He knew it scared the counsel, but if it came down to you or them he knew who he would pick.

I am your master though, it’s a position of trust and power. I -

I’m glad you have that power and I trust you - you yawned and tucked yourself against him. You make me feel safe

The urge to pin you down was overwhelming. He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted you in this moment. He worked hard to keep you safe. He trained you hard, he took every opportunity to explain things to you. He had good intentions for this partnership, he wanted you to survive this war, and thrive as a Jedi. Feeling you in his arms now, all he wanted was to hold you and never let go.

He kissed the top of your head. Fully relaxing into the feeling of being in another's company.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #clone wars #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x padawan #padawan #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker smut #star wars smut

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uyuartik · 3 months

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bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"

"I could never claim otherwise."

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there��s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan smut #star wars fanfiction #my pen #smut #fluff #fanfiction #fics #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan smut

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shootingstarpilot · 7 months

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I see a lot of posts expressing frustration with the fanon idea that certain highly competent characters (yes, this post is about Obi-Wan, but I've seen others) can't take care of themselves and need others to bully them into eating, sleeping, etc.. While I totally get that frustration, I personally very much enjoy that trope. I've been trying to dissect why I enjoyed it since I saw those critiques, and I think I finally managed to put it to words.

(Disclaimer: I live in the United States, so my discussion about healthcare is operating in the framework of the man-eating trash fire that is the American healthcare system.)

I am a busy person outside of fandom. I recently completed a cross-country move. I'm damn good at my job and I love what I do, but it's hard work and a lot of it is on call. I have bills to pay. I have paperwork to fill out. I have messages to send and more messages to reply to. I have a life that is full of things I don't want to do. We all do. It's part of existing in society.

I am also chronically ill.

We live in a system that is actively hostile to putting your own health first. The healthcare system is impossible to navigate even if you are feeling the very pinnacle of health and wellbeing, and good fucking luck trying to do so when you're sick. Good luck trying to go to work and pay your bills and fill your tank. Good luck trying to do your paperwork and cook your meals and clean your apartment. Good luck trying to muster up the energy to respond to the well-meaning communications of friends and family.

But here's the thing- you still have to.

The rest of the world doesn't stop when you're sick. The rest of your life doesn't pause when you need it to. Sometimes you have to sacrifice sleep to make it to a doctor's appointment, or skip breakfast to make it to work on time. Every one of us, to some extent or another, has had to sacrifice what would be best for our health in order to stay functional in this fucked-up, capitalistic, carnivorous society.

So I think my preference for reading and writing fics like the ones I mentioned at the beginning has a certain level of wish fulfillment to it. Someone who is competent and good at their job and has an extraordinary level of responsibility on their shoulders sacrifices their own well-being to keep the rest of the world going-

And someone else makes sure they eat. Someone else makes sure their health gets tended to. Someone else makes sure they sleep, and that the world doesn't fall apart while they do so.

A lot of times, we don't get to make those decisions, or we feel guilty when we do. In reading fics like these, I feel like I get to outsource those decisions- outsourcing self-care, if you will. You don't have to feel guilty about putting your own health first, because you're not making the choice to do so. Someone else is.

It's okay. Get some rest.

#my life is also full of things and people that i love don't worry #it's just interesting to think about this sort of wish fulfillment #if anyone else wants to contribute thoughts please do #i'm sure someone more eloquent than me could put this better #outsourcing self-care #fandom #obi-wan kenobi #ao3 #fanfiction

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antianakin · 6 months

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Didn’t get a picture but I saw someone on the internet claiming that

a. Ahsoka, unlike Obi-Wan, was actually good enough at combat to defeat Anakin properly at Mustafar and should have gone instead. (and just that she’s the best at combat out of all the Jedi or something along those lines) b. because of her training and goddess-ness it means she’s the Most Powerful Jedi now. I feel like your blog is a good safe space to express my complete annoyance with everything going on here. why. Why. I am so tired of this (and all the anti-Jedi people in the fandom as well.)

and also, I love all your analyses on Star Wars and they always brighten my day! Thank you!

Lollllll this is a VERY safe space to express annoyance at these takes.

For one, Ahsoka literally DOES go up against Anakin and she FAILS. Anakin punts her off the side of a cliff (it's technically a battlestation but they're very high up so whatever, I'm calling it a cliff) and she only manages to snag off a piece of his mask because she runs up behind him while he's distracted with Kanan and Ezra rather than because she's genuinely able to overpower him through skill alone. She gets LUCKY.

People seem to forget that Ahsoka does NOT recognize that he's Anakin for the beginning part of that fight on Malachor. Like technically, deep down, she probably DOES know, but she's convinced herself it isn't true and Anakin confirms that at the beginning by saying he's the one who destroyed Anakin, so Ahsoka can just... go at him with everything she's got with zero conflict at all. There is literally NOTHING holding her back here, this is Ahsoka at FULL FORCE and she fails pretty epically.

She doesn't really do any better once she DOES know it's Anakin because she's immediately refusing to go on the offensive at all, she's JUST defensive because she doesn't WANT to kill Anakin. And more than that, she REFUSES to kill Anakin. She feels guilty for what's happened to him because she's decided that it's her fault for having left him behind. That's the whole arc she's gone on in Rebels, it's why her line to him once she can't deny that it's Anakin anymore is "I won't leave you. Not this time." That's not the kind of thing you say to someone you're prepared to defeat and/or kill. Ahsoka is prepared to DIE here because she'd rather die than abandon Anakin a second time and killing him would ABSOLUTELY be counted in that category for Ahsoka.

So not only is she just not competent enough to have beaten Anakin, I don't think it's reasonable to argue she would've even WANTED to. If Ahsoka had been on Mustafar, Anakin probably would've killed her, and then he would've been able to capture Padme and the twins and who knows what he would've done if he'd been able to do that.

And even within the Ahsoka show, she goes up against Baylan more than once and loses EACH TIME. Baylan literally tells her that she CAN'T beat him. She just isn't good enough. And this is a FILONI-RUN SHOW, there are zero other writers on this show, so if Baylan is telling Ahsoka that she isn't good enough to beat him, then presumably Filoni himself believes that that's true, at least for now. I imagine that she WILL beat him eventually, but it may end up similar to her win in season 1 where she's relying on distractions from other people or assistance or something. Who knows. But either way, she can't even beat a regular Jedi like Baylan, so how the fuck is she supposed to have beaten a major powerhouse like ANAKIN when he would've been hell bent on her death and destruction?

Obi-Wan DOES defeat Anakin properly on Mustafar, he just can't full-on kill him because the narrative sort-of requires Anakin to survive. He does LEAVE Anakin to die, though, and if Yoda had succeeded against Palpatine, Anakin WOULD'VE died. Obi-Wan CHOPS OFF THREE OF ANAKIN'S LIMBS AND LEAVES ANAKIN TO BURN ALIVE, I'm not sure how much more properly defeated it is possible to get.

Also, the reason Obi-Wan defeats Anakin is almost never due to power levels. It's a combination of being centered/balanced in the Force and knowing Anakin so well that he can predict his moves extremely well. His win in ROTS on Mustafar isn't because Obi-Wan happened to be more powerful than Anakin, he's not. He just is aware enough of his surroundings to take advantage of an opportunity when he sees it and lasts long enough to be able to find it. The stunt choreographers also have explicitly stated that they intentionally choreographed this fight sequence with Obi-Wan consistently GIVING GROUND to Anakin in an attempt to give Anakin time to calm down and come to his senses. So not only is he just good enough to take advantage of an opportunity when he sees it, he's good enough to hold BACK for a while and still live through the fight. And if he's explicitly holding back in the fight, it means that there's even more power he could've been exerting and it's entirely possible that he might've been able to end the entire fight much earlier had he chosen to do so. There's never any kind of indication that that's true for Ahsoka during her one fight against him. She doesn't let herself get tossed off a cliff on purpose lol.

And of course in the Kenobi show, Obi-Wan wins in the flashback scene due to being SMARTER, not more powerful. In the final confrontation he wins because he's more BALANCED and is more willing to put everything he's got into his attacks and changes up his fighting style so he can take Anakin by surprise, so when he slashes off a piece of his helmet, it's not just because Anakin was distracted, it's because Obi-Wan genuinely fought Anakin down enough to make that hit.

Obi-Wan might genuinely be the ONLY person who could go up against Anakin and WIN by the time you get to the Rebellion era. And it isn't because he's more powerful than anybody else, he just happens to have an advantage against this particular opponent which means that the disparity in power-levels is canceled out by Obi-Wan's knowledge of Anakin and the fact that he is just straight up smarter in a fight than Anakin is.

Ahsoka, by contrast, was taught by a dude who tends to rely on brute force to win his fights, and so that's often ALSO how we see her win her own fights. Most of the fights we see her winning are against opponents who are far weaker than she is, like Inquisitors or Mandalorians. Occasionally she fights someone like Maul and has to be a little smarter about it, but most of her major victories are against weaker opponents. She's a brute force fighter, not a smart fighter most of the time, because she CAN be. But she's not more powerful than ANAKIN, and she'll never be able to brute force her way through a fight with him, and she's not smart enough to outwit him, even if she WAS willing to hurt/kill him.

I'm not sure what "training" this person might've been referring to, either, because Ahsoka gets 1.5-2 years of official Padawan training MAXIMUM and some of that would've been Anakin's bullshit blaster blocking training which isn't exactly going to help Ahsoka against ANAKIN HIMSELF. As for the goddess thing, while it's definitely sort-of in there and implied, it's not technically confirmed and so far nothing has really been shown about it that makes her exponentially more powerful than anyone else. She has to flee a fight against Baylan, she'd have died fighting Morgan and the zombies if Sabine hadn't stayed behind to help her, she'd have died on Malachor if Ezra hadn't jumped in to help her, etc. She doesn't seem to have any super special goddess powers that we've seen so far, so it seems a little early to be counting that in her power levels.

Not to mention that in the "Most Powerful Jedi Alive During the Mandoverse" competition, she doesn't have a shit load of competitors she's up against here. The only other options to compare her against that are currently confirmed to be alive post-ROTJ are Luke, Leia, and Grogu. All three of them are shown to be pretty powerful in the Force, but Leia likely isn't super well-trained and Grogu is still a child, and therefore it doesn't seem fair to compare them to Ahsoka at this point. But Luke? I have a hard time believing Ahsoka is MORE powerful than Luke. Close, perhaps, we know she IS supposed to be fairly powerful in general, it's why she was able to be a Padawan so early, but possibly not MORE powerful.

And power alone does not actually guarantee a victory. She could be more powerful than Baylan, but if he's a better fighter, he'll still beat her. As shown with Obi-Wan and Anakin, power alone won't win a battle if your opponent is smart enough to simply outwit you. Obi-Wan can beat Anakin, and Baylan can beat Ahsoka. Ahsoka can be an extremely powerful Force user and still not be able to beat someone with better training than her.

I'll also note at the end here that Ahsoka isn't even canonically a Jedi at this point. She's never once claimed to be in the Ahsoka show and she explicitly says she isn't one in Rebels. She makes comments about how there's more to being a Jedi than using a lightsaber, but that isn't confirmation that she CONSIDERS herself a Jedi or that she'd call herself a Jedi. So she can't be the most powerful Jedi if she's not a Jedi at all. Same goes for Baylan, Grogu, and Leia.

Which leaves us back at Luke as the most powerful Jedi in existence within the timeline of the Ahsoka show because out of all of our options, Luke is the single person alive willing to actually identify as a fucking Jedi.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka critical #ahsoka tano critical #obi-wan kenobi #luke skywalker #rebels #ahsoka show #star wars rebels #anakin skywalker

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phoeebsbuffay · 1 year

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Imagine Anakin Skywalker proposes you.

Warnings: smut and fluff in a very alternative universe. This means no Vader here. Light reading.

Warnings 2: no minors.

Recommendations: “Just Like Heaven” by The Cure; “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri.

***

When it all began…

It all starts with the day you find out you are having feelings for the great General Skywalker. To realize your attachment towards him crosses the field of a concern from one Jedi to another comes like a punch in your stomach.

In truth, the reason why such perception distresses you lies on your fear of feeling anything at all, particularly when he is nearby.

It takes every force of you to bury it. For your own sake—and because you know how besotted he is with that Senator whom you personally think unworthy of him, but oh well—you keep it to yourself.

So it’s Saturday and you have been released of your missions, though coming back from planet Y/C costed you good nights of sleep and a great deal of being scowled by Master Windu for your recklessness. Yet here you are, at the gardens, when you…feel him close.

Anakin has not been obnoxious to you, though. You ignore that his eyes have been following you more than often—-to the point where Ahsoka rolls her eyes everytime you are around and he is distracted—, that he’s been jealous of how you speak kindly to other men, or even so how annoying it is you cannot tell his fondness for you.

He is also a very observing man. That being said, he’s noticed your change of moods, he’s felt the nights you’ve been sleeping unwell, and what is more hurtful is that you don’t come for him to confide your fears like he does to you. Even though Anakin knows how you feel for him, he somewhat hopes you give the first steps.

So here he is. Leaning against the wall, his blue eyes are set on you, admiring the shades of y/c that color your hair, your y/c skin and the robes that reinforce your curves. Anakin holds back a sigh, and it is only when he comes closer that you joke:

“What’s up, Skywalker? What mischief are you up to today?”

“No big deal”, he lies down over the grass, not too far from where you are. Your eyes remain closed and he smirks at you. “Why are you assuming I am up to no good?”

You try to remain serious, but the moment he says that, your lips part in a smile.

“Because you are always annoying Obi-Wan. But since the corridors have been quiet, I’m assuming you are free today?”

Anakin rolls his eyes but he too smiles.

“Yes. For some odd reason everything is quiet. No trainings or missions. I came after you because for some reason that goes beyond my understanding you’ve been a little off these days.”

That observation makes you open your eyes and Anakin can tell that his remark is the reason why your heart starts beating faster. He tries to hold back a smile, even though presumption is behind his blue eyes.

So maybe there is hope.

“What are you talking about, Anakin? Don’t go assuming things.”

“Why, it’s true, though.” He shrugs his shoulders. “The other day when I asked you a favor regarding Senator Amidala, you told me you could not do it because you’ve been already assigned to another mission. And yet I found you playing cards with Fives. I mean… Really?”

For most things you have a sharp wit, but when it comes to Anakin or men in general, you are slow. You also take time to comprehend the meaning of their actions, once usually these can be ambiguous. Hence why you don’t understand why he’s acting so jealous.

“What? How one thing is related to the other? I did have another mission to which I was assigned, and, unlike you, I wasn’t flirting with Fives.”

“I wasn’t flirting with Fives either!”

You chew your bottom lip as he rolls in the grass laughing. And to worsen your case, you say:

“No, but you were flirting with Senator Amidala!”

Now rolling to your side, he is on his elbows staring at you with those bloody blue eyes and a damn smile that makes you melt inside.

“Was I?”

A faint shade of pink paints your cheeks, and however you try to look away from his intent stare, Maker knows you cannot.

“You know damn well that you were”, you narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you think this is so funny to you, Anakin Skywalker? If you want to break the rules and get yourself expelled, it is not my problem. As long as you don’t come lamenting after my ears how the Council never… Oh, please! Stop laughing!”

It is as if you are a teenager again, always being made fun of by him. Anakin had this terrible habit of teasing you until you got seriously irritated. Seeing he’s to the point where he’s about to succeed, Anakin softens and pulls you down back to the grass as you are about to stand and leave him there.

“What do you think you are doing?”, you ask in between giggles.

It’s when your gazes cross again.

“I was never smitten with Senator Amidala, silly head.” His smile spreads as your blush deepens. “It has always been about you. You, Y/N Y/LN. You alone.”

“Oh.”

He is now dangerously close to you. Part of him is over your body, transmitting you sensations before unknown. But you choose to ignore how his arms in each side of you ignore a spark in you.

“Oh indeed”, Anakin smiles warmly. “How could you think it was about her? She is married to Senator Clovis.”

“Is she?” You don’t dare to raise your eyes for fear they might give in too much.

But that’s what he wants. So he raises your chin and slowly moves his lips against yours.

“Yes. I fell in love with you, princess.”

Any resistance is inutile, so as your hands rest in his sides, dragging him over you, you smile as you correspond the kiss.

“As I did with you, Ani.”

***

‘A secret between us’

It’s been three months since Anakin last saw you. It drives him crazy how each has gone to a different mission. Because the relationship has been kept far from the Council’s knowledge, he couldn’t even ask for you.

And before he finds courage to ask Obi-Wan about your whereabouts, he is sent to planet Y/C to investigate the death of Master Dias. It takes further three months before you and him met again.

“You could have sent me a message, you know”, you tell him right as he comes for you. It’s late night and he is in your quarters. Both of you are exhausted, having arrived mere hours earlier. “I tried to send you, but I couldn’t.”

You barely finish with brushing your hair and you feel Anakin’s arms snaking behind you. You smile before turning around to hold him closer if possible. Your hands cup his cheeks, caressing each as you dive in those blue eyes.

“I know. God damn it, I was bloody preoccupied with you, my darling. Next time I will insist to go with you.”

“Yet Anakin, I detest to be the one to remind you that our relationship is a secret that must stay only between us”, you sigh. “They cannot raise any suspicious…”

“They will not. Leave this to me, all right?”

You rest your head against his chest, embraced by his arms before pulled to kiss his lips. Anakin’s fingers are tangled in your hair, his chin rested over your chin. You two stay like this for a while before going to bed.

“How did the mission go?”, you ask, cuddled against him, voice sleepy.

Anakin smiles at your efforts in struggling against exhaustion to hear about his mission.

“Sleep, angel. We will discuss this tomorrow.” Saying so, he presses a kiss over your forehead and you both fall asleep.

As the Jedis are closer to get to Count Dooku, eventually you and Anakin are assigned to a mission together. That is when you two cross the path of General Grievous.

“I will not let you expose yourself in danger, lass.” He tells you, rather baffled by the suggestions you are bringing to defeat the enemy.

“Oh, please Anakin. I’ve been doing that long way before we…”

“No, Y/N. I am not letting you…”

You smile now fades when seeing how serious. You narrow your eyes in turn.

“Oh yes, I am, Skyguy. I never asked you to be concerned about me in first place.”

And that is precisely the most inappropriate moment for you two get in your first argument.

***

Moonlight.

You miss him ardently. This time it burns your skin, it tortures your soul. You cannot simply accept to be by his side and sleep easily; it is not enough to wait every Friday and pray for the Jedi to be asleep as you tiptoe to his quarters and talk to him until sun rises—and you pay for it by drinking lots of coffee the day after.

He too hates how far away you are from him. He detests how paradise is unreachable for him every single time you are sent away, for it makes him feel an outcast. Anakin is anguished for not breathing your scent, not tasting your tongue pairing in so perfect a rhythm against his, not dwelling in your y/c eyes. His heart aches, his soul breaks when he doesn’t hear from you for weeks.

But today, the Jedi senses a strange urge from you before even landing to Coruscant. At first it distresses him—until he comes to discover the cause of it, he is genuinely concerned about you.

However, the moment he escapes to your quarters, every anxiety dies. Engulfed in your arms, Anakin relaxes and tightens his grip around you.

“Fuck, how I’ve missed you, princess”, he mumbles, kissing your cheek and your neck, there staying, breathing the smell of roses.

“Ani”, you sigh in deep content. “What took you so long?”

“I have great news to share”, he tells you, parting the embrace so he can look at you.

Your hair is lose and you are dressing a blue nightgown with white robes partly open. Anakin cannot help but notice the swell of your breasts, seeing your nipples through the silk. He swallows hard, forcing himself to concentrate as you wait with exciting eyes.

He takes your hand and locks with his before taking a seat at the edge of your bed.

“What is it?”, you ask him, sounding louder than you’d like.

“Good news await us. Count Dooku is defeated and so the plan to knock down the Republic has been discovered.”

You raise a hand over your mouth, shock stamped in your features.

“Holy Maker, Ani! So does this mean we found out who the Sith Lord is? And what his intentions are?”

Anakin flashes a smirk, but by this time his mind has already left the main point behind.

“Can we please discuss this later? I miss my girlfriend.”

You blush lightly.

“Why, please. I’ve missed you too, Anakin.” As you dwell in those blue eyes, you feel your heart lighter and every disturbance that sparks in your body disappears. “Maker knows how much.”

Before he reads well into you, you put your arms around his neck and lean to kiss his lips. What starts as a make up session begins to evolve to something more.

“I don’t think you know how much you mean to me”, you tell him, letting your hands play with his curls before slipping to his cheek.

As his hands move to your shoulders, promptly removing your robes before rubbing your arms delicately as if you are a fragile thing, Anakin bites your bottom lip and says:

“I cannot live apart of you, Y/N. You are mine.”

You shiver at how possessive his words sound to your ears, it turns you on.

“Please, show me how”, you beg him, sensing his smirk against yours.

“So this is what has been troubling my princess?”, he asks you, now parting the kiss to look into your eyes only to find out how needy you are by getting lost in them. Holding your chin, Anakin senses the power you delegate to him. “Tell me, love, you’ve been burning, haven’t you?”

Anakin moves further to your bed. He opens lightly the curtains of a widow so the moonlight helps illuminate your quarters in an old fashion way.

All the whilst, he makes you sit in his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist before he slowly rests his hands over your thighs, moving them to remove your nightgown and tossing aside.

“Fuck”, he curses lightly. Instead of feeling shy, you feel yourself wet under his intent gaze. “You are gorgeous, angel. So beautiful. So ethereal.”

Beneath his words, a spark that ignites a fire. You pursuit his lips, famine for his touch, starving for his affection. Anakin smiles when feeling all of the sentiments you’ve been trying to placate…rather unsuccessfully.

He then flips you carefully, going on top of you just after your desperate hands toss away his clothing.

“Looks like you got me on fire”, you whisper, parting your lips as you moan when he starts to get intimate with you.

“We are burning together tonight, my love. I promise you”, he kisses your neck, slipping his tongue in one trace to your full chests. Anakin devours each nipple, holding you against him in such a dominate manner that you can only plead for more.

And he slowly complies to your demands, though he tortures you with his fingers…and then with his mouth, eyeing you as he eats you out. Yet, when you are about to come undone, he goes back to you, shushing your protests with a fiery, passionate kiss.

“Love me”, you beg him.

Because he knows of your needs, tonight is your night—as much as you try to please him too, he wants to make this night a very special one.

“I love you”, he whispers as he locks hands with you.

When your eyes meet and your bodies lock, your souls speak. It’s all perfectly synced.

***

The proposal.

By waking up by your side is the moment Anakin realizes he is no longer content with this secretive relationship of yours. He wants more. It’s when he decides to make you the future Mrs Skywalker. One question remains, though: how?

As you open your eyes and find yourself cuddled against him, smelling his scent, a mix of sweat and his typical perfume, you know there is no better place to he than in his arms. Ignoring his thoughts, you are somewhat inspired when you lean into him and say:

“I would run away with you. Anywhere you want to go, I will be with you.”

When looking into your eyes, this inspiration finds home in his heart as well. But Anakin needs to hold back his impulsivity or he’d might be accused of lacking sensitivity.

“Maker knows I cannot love any other creature that is not you, Y/N.”

There is so much to be said, but for some reason there is no need to let unspoken words reach each other’s tongues. Not only because in one gaze they could see reflected in their eyes the love one feels for the other, but also the abrupt knock on the door that scares you both, a reminder that there is life beyond bed—and the kind that requests your relationship to remain a secret.

It is tiresome to hid. To pretend that neither is too intimate with the other, to ignore the sparks of jealousy that rises in both hearts and minds, to act cooly before certain situations.

As when for example the day you confronted Darth Maul, defeating him in the process and earning some battle scars that almost freaked Anakin out.

“Babe, I told you not to chase that vile being”, he scolded you then. “You could have contacted me.”

“What for? We’ve been there before, Anakin, and I told you a million times that I can do things by myself, thank you very much.”

But these arguments, endless and repetitive as they were, usually ended in bed so both of you knew how to amend it pretty well.

However, you stood in his shoes when Anakin faced the Sith Lord in person. Although this was an occasion that feared you more than you’d care to admit, you were baffled—as well as many others—that he proved to be the chosen one by defeating Chancellor Palpatine once and for all.

“And you call me stubborn”, you told him, shaking your head in disapproval.

Anakin chuckled as you glared at him. Kisses and sweet words were enough to knock your defenses down, although you were not entirely the one to blame for worrying too much.

So now here you are. Amidst celebrations, Anakin doesn’t appreciate the attention earned. For someone so proud, this only seems to separate him from you. Hence why he sees an opportunity—one he has been planning for a while—to elope with you.

You are in the middle of a conversation to Ahsoka—and today you are very elegant, dressing your best dress and wearing a good make up, wanting to feel beautiful for him—when Anakin shows up.

“Excuse me, ladies. General Y/LN, may I have a word with you?”

Although you try to disguise the amusement in your eyes, every effort you and Anakin pay in omitting the true nature of your relationship goes to nothing because Ahsoka, rolling her eyes and resting a hand in her waist, says:

“Really now? Are we all going to play pretend I’m dumb? Skyguy and Y/Nickname, I know that you are…”

“Shhhhh”, you and Anakin say at the same time, with you putting your hands over her mouth.

“Be discreet, Ahsoka”, you whisper, letting her go after ensuring she is not acting otherwise. “Please.”

“I should have not underestimated your observation”, Anakin sighs. “An adolescent like yourself should be paying attention to interests concerning your age, though.”

“Oh please, Skyguy. This is a huge insult to my intelligence. You are barely trying to be discreet. Anyone can tell you and Y/N are together, though judging by others faces in this room, they either pretend not to see what’s crystal clear or they are just blind.”

Anakin and you exchange disconcerted glances, but you try to intervene by appeasing the situation.

“Can we trust in you to keep this low for a while? Come now, Soka. You know how much you mean to us.”

It works. Ahsoka looks at you with other eyes: in fact, she’d always perceived you as a maternal figure, a role you’ve taken to yourself in the e years she’d been under Anakin’s wig knowing her difficulties with other aspects within the Order she struggled with.

“Very well”, she feels proud of herself for the responsibility delegate to her. “You will not be disappointed.”

Anakin rolls his eyes, but you smile at her and press her forehead a kiss.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

As you go after Anakin, you say:

“What’s with this rush to leave? I thought you’d enjoy to be in the center of attention.”

Once you are in the ship, Anakin flashes you a smirk and says:

“Oh, dear. I couldn’t care less about these boring ceremonies. Now, I think we should enjoy ourselves away from these pompous people. I have a better place to take you to, where I think you’ll love.” He smiles at you before turning the ship on: “Love, this is where the fun begins.”

And that is how he takes you to planet Y/C. Once getting there, you are perplexed by the landscape that draws right under your gaze: a mix of colors that brightens the horizon, brown hills peppered with pink trees—one of the kind you’ve never seen before—amidst small lakes that reinforce a delicately aesthetic.

“It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?”, Anakin tells you, eyes glued at the expressions your face transmits.

“It is, Ani. Where are you taking me? How’d you know this place?”, you ask him.

He leads you now to the beach. There, Anakin watches with a smile on his lips how you are charmed by the wild nature. That should be the nest of your love, that only grows each day, so he decides.

“I came here only once in that mission concerning Ventress. I always wanted an opportunity to come back, and looks like I have one.”

He pauses, waiting for you to absorb what he is telling you. You take a while to understand, your eyes focused in the purple that paints that ocean, making the scenario so unique and colorful. Never before you felt such a peace.

But when your fingers are locked with his, you slowly comprehend the reason of his subtle getaway from a prestigious ceremony that was praising his great deeds.

“Anakin… What are you saying?”

“For a very long time I’ve been silenced, but I will not tolerate this anymore”, he smiles at you, delighting at your slow discovery. “Allow me to tell you how much I love you, how I cannot spend any more time without you by my side. You are such a precious gift from heavens that I fear to waste away if I don’t…”

He chokes a little with words, thrilled as much as you are.

“Anakin… Ani! Oh, Ani!”, before you can help yourself, your eyes are blurried by tears and you start weeping.

On his knees, he takes a velvet box and opens it right before you.

“I hope these are tears of joy…”, Anakin starts nervously.

You giggle.

“Of course they are!”

“Good”, he clears his throat. “Y/N Y/LN, will you give me the honor of becoming Mrs Skywalker for the rest of your life…?”

He barely finishes the proposal when you throw your arms around his neck.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Anakin beams and so do you. Just after you share a kiss and he places a ring on your finger, he says:

“I’m very happy for choosing the perfect scenario, but can we go elsewhere? I hate sand.”

You laugh and so does he. Locking your arms with his, you say:

“Anywhere with you, Anakin, is going home to me.”

And that is the happiest day of your lives…

***

Epilogue.

…that is until the day you two get married, of course.

It happens in a private ceremony with only C3-P0 and R2-D2 as witnesses. Your hair drops loose in your waist and you wear a traditional white gown you’ve purchased of the planet you came from.

A priest awaits and in front of him, is Anakin. You admire him with eyes already puddled by tears. Your heart skips a bear when setting your gaze upon the man you love with your entire being. He is so handsome with those robes, curly hair dropping over his shoulder—certainly longer than last time—reinforcing an angelical physique that makes you swoon.

“Y/N”, he calls your name as he stands his hand to take yours. As you do so, Anakin, whose eyes are all over you, smiles excitedly. “We are starting a new life now.”

And by saying so, a hand rests upon your stomach.

“How’d you know…?”, you laugh quietly, surprised he noticed before you.

“I know my wife”, Anakin whispers into your ear, pleased to make you blush.

The priest clears his throat, it’s time. As he finally begins, you and him cannot look away from each other. Vows are professed and you are now Mrs Skywalker.

A brighter future awaits for you both, sealed in the form of a kiss…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #Hayden Christensen

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queenie-official · 5 months

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Chapter Three: ‘First Impressions’ Bridgerton au!Anakin

part 1, part 2

a/n: so the outfits that Obi-Wan and Ani are wearing are the ones in the photos ☝️🤭but guys tell me how i had more of chapter four planned out then i did this chapter 🤨 like i fr already had dialogue for chapter four before i even started this one 😀 anyway i hope you guys like this 🥰

Once more you find yourself pacing around in an endless circle. Today was the day you were to meet him. The wedding was already set to happen in a week. however invitations wouldn’t be handed out for another two days, the council told you it would be wise to get to know your future husband a bit first- but honestly how much could you really learn about a person in such a short amount of time. it’s not like you had a week to get to know each other, no you had the day to get to know him before he’d be back off to his own kingdom till the wedding.

“you need to calm down” Padme’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. you look over to where she’s sat on the settee, a concerned look on her face. you’d asked her to come over and help distract you. to her credit she did try at first but she quickly realized nothing she could say or do would occupy your mind from the days events. “i’m calm” you say trying to convince yourself that more then her. “if you can say that while standing still, i’ll believe you” she retorts whilst standing up and walking over to you forcing you to stop pacing as she places her hands on your shoulders.

“you can’t blame me for being nervous, i mean wether this goes well or not this is the man i am to spend the rest of my life with” you vent, feeling your anxiety swirl. you felt like this was an impossible situation, marrying someone you didn’t know. obviously it was a common thing but it didn’t make the reality of it any weirder to you. “what if he doesn’t want to marry me?” it was a stupid question, the better question would be why would he want to marry you. he was being moved away from his home to a foreign place with different traditions and cultures. not to mention an entirely different climate, you’d read up on Tatooine it was a Warm desert kingdom a direct contrast to Alderaan.

“that’s a possibility” Padme answers, not the reassurance you wanted but you didn’t call padme here because she would lie to make you feel better. you called her here because she would give it to you straight but also support you the best way she could. “so then i’ve forced a man into a loveless marriage” you huff, feeling anger course through you as your once again reminded of the councils rash decision that got you into this.

“most people these days end up in loveless marriages y/n. most women at least, we have no say in who we marry it’s all decided by our fathers.” that once again didn’t make you feel any better but it was the hard truth. “this is going to be a long day” you’d slump over if you could but the corset you had on prevented you from most movement that involved bending of any form. “maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised” you could only hope she was right.

“i know it’s silly but growing up i always imagined marrying someone i fell in love with. my mom and dad where in love when they got married, a rare occurrence for monarchs. i always pictured having what they did.” you say sadly, it may not be the end of the world that your marrying a stranger but it was the end of that dream. a cruel awakening to your inner child. “it’s not silly, most little girls wish that” Padme says sympathetically.

“if my dad where still alive he’d have ensured it a reality” you say solemnly, feeling your heart tug at the thought. “Bail was a good man, a good king and a good father” you feel your eyes gloss over at her words, it was times like this you really missed him. your father was everything to you, he was all you had when your mother passed and vice versa. losing him felt like mourning two people at once, learning how to cope without your mother all over again in addition to coping without him.

“i miss him” it came out more as a whisper, you felt that if you spoke any louder the dam would break and tears would spill. Padme was quick to pull you into a tight hug. she was a big help when you lost him, a loyal friend who you knew would always be on your side. “i can’t help but feel i’m failing him” you let out the thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind throughout this whole ordeal. “he was and always will be proud of you” she said firmly, rubbing your back gently.

“would he be proud of me for this though?” you couldn’t help but ask. “circumstances changed y/n, you’ve done what you could. besides it’s not as if this was entirely your decision” she reassured you. you take a deep breath, indulging in the hug you both shared a moment longer before pulling away. “speaking of i really need to do something about the council before another reckless decision is made.”

“the sooner you’re crowned the Queen the better” she says with a laugh trying to lighten the mood, though she was being completely serious. right as you where about to respond your conversation was interrupted by Barclay barging in, an occurrence that was becoming more and more frequent with him.

“your majesty they’re here” he said and you stiffened, the reality of the situation crashing down onto you. you knew this was coming but it hadn’t truly felt real til now.

“oh i’m going to be sick” you mumble just loud enough for padme to hear, she gives you a gentle pat on the back a silent way of saying you’ve got this. as if suddenly reminded of her existence Barclay acknowledges her “Lady Amidala pleasure to see you” it surprisingly sounded genuine, though to be fair he had been sucking up to you the last couple days clearly something clicked in his mind that you where the one who controlled wether he actually had a job or not. that or there was something else motivating him either way his change in attitude didn’t sit right with you, something was off and you could sense it.

“Barclay” was all padme said to greet him not even bothering to turn in his direction to acknowledge him properly. you had to stifle a laugh, god you loved her. she kept her head high and walked right past him, she would be leaving through the gardens so no one knew she was there. the meeting was to be kept secret from everyone aside from the respective royal families.

with a sigh you nodded towards Barclay to signify you where ready. you both walked down the hallways heading to the main foyer, with each step you took you felt as if you where being pulled down. finding it harder and harder to move forward the closer you got. these where your last moments to breath without someone beside you- metaphorically of course, after all as a royal there’s always someone at least five steps from you which was tiring to say the least.

you could swear time was simultaneously moving faster then light and slower then molasses as you watched Barclay nod to the guards to open the doors that stand as the only barrier between you and the one you are to wed. it was hard to breath? but just as quick as the breath got stuck in you it was knocked right out as one of the guards rose there voice impossibly loud to announce your arrival.

“now presenting her Majesty, the Crown Princess Y/n Organa” it honestly made your ears ring but at the very least it served as a nice reminder of where you are and pulled you back down to earth. still it all felt a bit excessive to you considering there was only four people here excluding the guards.

Walking further in so that you and Barclay where now face to face with the two men, you scanned over them quickly. they both where good looking you had to admit, what threw you off though was how drastically different they where dressed from each other. for a moment you almost thought they came from two different places but quickly brushed that off knowing good and well that wasn’t the case.

“hel-“ just as you began to greet the two men you are quickly cut off by a third party you hadn’t even noticed was there. Chancellor Valorum. “greetings you are?” he said and you paused turning to see him standing behind you, how long had he been there? no one else seemed shocked so he must of been there for quite some time you concluded. but why was he there? deciding to act like you had known he was there you turn back to the two men. to your surprise the older looking one of the two directed his attention to you and not Valorum. it brought a small smile to your face, feeling like it was a nice change of pace finally be acknowledged instead of looked over.

“I am Prince Obi-Wan first born son of the Kingdom Tatooine. and this” he gestured to the pretty blonde beside him who could easily tower over you if he was close enough. “is my brother Anakin” he finished and you felt a little giddy, so far so good right? he was tall and handsome you could only hope he was kind and had a personality as good as he looked. though to your dismay the aforementioned man hadn’t even spared you a glance, thinking on it he hadn’t looked at you even when you first entered the room. that fact made your stomach twist.

“neither of your parents are joining us?” the chancellor spoke again before you could get a word in, honestly he was one more sentence away from you clocking him in the face. but you hold your breath and maintain your composure. this time Obi-Wan does acknowledge him but only to answer his question and you were guessing to not seem rude. “unfortunately our mother and father are quite busy but as the future king they deemed it enough for me to go with my brother for this” you felt like a child who could do nothing but watch as the grown ups speak as you look back and forth from the chancellor and him.

Thankfully Obi-Wan was quick to redirect his attention to you. “your highness shall we discuss matters more privately?” why couldn’t conversation with people of power always go this way, taking to you instead of over you. you give him a polite smile before answering. “yes let’s move this elsewhere” you say with a nod. “lead the way.” was all he said in turn.

as you all walk down the halls of the castle you can’t help but notice how quiet prince Anakin was. it worried you, was he always this quiet or was he choosing not to say anything. did he already hate you- to be fair if he did you wouldn’t blame him. if the roles where reversed and your kingdom had been basically black mailed into giving you up as marriage you’d probably hate the person you thought responsable as well. you found yourself actually wishing you two where alone so you could explain yourself and hope he could understand. Then again who’d say he’d believe you, it was worth a try though wasn’t it?

unsurprisingly throughout most of the meeting chancellor Valorum spoke for you any chance he could. and just as in the foyer Obi-Wan directed his answers to you. time dragged as you guys finished up flushing out the details of the agreement more thoroughly. it was all so casual and you couldn’t help but feel sick especially with Anakin sitting right there not saying a word. you couldn’t even get a read on his emotions his face was a blank slate. it made you anxious and you weren’t sure if you wanted to just hurry up and get all of this over already or drag it out longer so you could procrastinate the inevitable.

it was evident just how long the meeting had taken when you were met with the setting sun as you looked out the window. a panic ran through you when you realized you had no time at all to talk Anakin now and the next time you’d see him would be the day of the wedding. you where now truly going into this marriage blind- not that you would of learned much about him today regardless but anything would be better than nothing.

closing up the meeting with a handshake between the chancellor and Obi-Wan, even though he had clearly held his hand out for you- you all stand up and head out of the meeting room.

Anakin had still yet to say a word, Obi-Wan being the one to speak on both there behalf’s when saying goodbye. even as they walked away you watched as he didn’t even speak to his brother, maybe he was mad and his silence was the politest protest he could do. you could only hope your whole marriage wouldn’t be like this, what an awkward life that would be. though maybe you’d get used to it at some point.

all of these thoughts swimming in your head stopped as a pair of blue eyes met yours, it was brief and for a second you thought you’d imagined it. he had look back at you right before the castle doors closed.

that’s all you had to go off of until you would meet again for the wedding day.

part 4

okay guys the next chapter will feature a lot more Anakin and yes the pretty boy will speak 🥰 this took me forever to finish 😀 mainly because i’ve been writing this in between doing work 👩‍🦯👩‍🦯 anyways i hope you all like this chapter i know it was a lot more emotional then the others but reader is going through a lot at once 😭 side note i love reading your reply’s you guys are funny and real asf🤭 that’s all i have to say for now enjoy huns Xx<3

tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

#hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #atoc anakin #rots anakin #anakin x you #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader fluff #anakin x reader fluff #anakin x reader oneshots #bridgerton au!anakin #bridgerton au!anakin x reader #bridgerton au #bridgerton #queenie’s thoughts xx<3

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countessofravenclaw · 1 year

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I wonder how many times Luke had to hear: "If only Bridger was here" during the preparations for the death star assault. Because like, Ezra and Kanan were the Jedi of the rebellion before Luke was. Did anyone even know that Luke had the force in the New Hope, because he barely knew himself.

Surely the rest of the rebellion wished that Ezra was still there, because he would have extremely valuable asset for the in the battle of Yavin, because he was a Jedi.

If he would have been there, he would have been one of the most vocal points of the plan. Luke succeeded because ghost Obi Wan told him to use the force, if Ezra would have been there, the plan would have been using the force in the first place. Just like during Secret Cargo, where Ezra used the force to defeat the tie defender, or during the battle Atollon when it had to be Ezra to be the one to find the way to escape to get help, because he was a jedi and had the best chance.

Luka obviously would have been the better pilot, since he has the genes, but Ezra was part of one of the founding cells of the rebellion. He had close relatioships with both Mom Mothma and Leia.

Like it or not, he also was the more advanced Jedi at the time. Ezra was finding news aspects of the force, getting rid of the one the most dangerous imperial officers and resisting Palpatines tenptation while Luke was farming moisture and wanting to join the imperial army.

Luka was Rebellion's jedi savior only because Ezra wasn't around and Kanan was dead. This is a hot take, but true if you search your feelings.

I wonder how much Luke knew about Ezra. Through some book, we know that he something of Kanan, probably from Hera, but what about Ezra and why he wasn't with the rebellion anymore.

I am honestly hoping so much that they meet in the Ahsoka show

#star wars rebels #star wars #Ezra Bridger #Luka Skywalker #This in no way was supposed to be Luke slande4 #more like Ezra aknowledginh #and like I said: A hot take

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this-is-gonna-hurt-me-inside · 4 months

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Codywan POTC AU ideas

Ok so people seemed to like the idea (and my lack of experience in actually making posts that reach people showed when I tried to make this post through reblogging and it didn't appear anywhere :') ) so here's what I currently have with some rough drawings!

Here's the original post I made about it

Ideas and drawings for AU below, please feel free to use!! No idea if I'll actually write something for it, the creature in charge of driving my brain will decide I guess.

Ok so, Obi-Wan fills the role of Elizabeth and Cody is Will in terms of who’s the governor’s child (or grandchild/ward here) and who is found floating at sea with a mysterious medallion and becomes a blacksmith. Going to deviate from the story a lot but needed Cody to have that blood importance link - you will see why later.

Dooku is governor who takes in his grandson Obi Wan as his ward after Qui-Gon’s death, then brings him with him to port royal (feel like Dooku is a good fit for all the colonisation/sugar plantations/definitely not the good guy the films presented him as considering Caribbean in the 1770s.) Obi-wan and Cody grow up keeping in contact and obliviously infatuated with each other as per films.

Not sure if there’s a Norrington equivalent here. Satine would probably be the easiest fit in terms of romantic triangle but couldn’t be an exact match as she’d never be a soldier even if we ignored period accuracy (no idea if I will or not) and a lot of his actions would be an insult to her as a character. Think it would probably be that Satine and Obi-Wan are dear friends who aren’t interested in each other romantically but are being pressured to marry because advantageous match etc. (Possibility of both getting into Methodism and abolitionism through that and that being their points of discussion, and the clash occurs when from start of events of second film Obi-Wan goes and begins to take a much more active route to abolition eg. Killing slavers and boarding their ships to liberate those inside. Satine being against the killing and violence etc but thats later on!)

For Captain Jack Sparrow, who better than the greatest space pirate of them all, Hondo Ohnaka! (Was considering having Quinlan Vos for it but feel like his moral compass is too strong honestly)

As in the films, black pearl (possibly renamed) attacks the port and Obi-Wan is taken aboard with medallion when he invokes parley and, when he gives his surname as Fett, is taken away as they leave. Barbossa I’m currently thinking is Maul (which ties in beautifully and absolutely not completely accidentally with the clone wars episode where Hondo’s crew mutiny him to join Maul) who is going to manage to get singularly obsessed with Obi-Wan by the end of the events of the first film where he is not actually dead/possibly reincarnated like Barbossa in the films but blames Obi-Wan for everything (which would honestly be more justified than the root of Mauls obsession in canon).

Cody breaks Hondo out to help him rescue Obi Wan, they assemble a crew on Tortuga. Various Jedi characters will be appearing as part of a large network of escaped slaves and outlaws (for various reasons) who want to help people in similarly difficult and/or dangerous situations. The Jedi have had dealings with Hondo before and essentially have a similar reaction to him as ghost crew in rebels - don’t trust him as far as they can throw him but often forced to work with him against their better judgement.

Plot progresses as first film but more oh the real villains are the colonisers (though Maul and his crew are giving them a run for their money). Find out that not only is Fett blood needed to break the curse since Jango was involved with initial treasure taking, but there’s a mysterious extra reason why people are wanting to get their hands on a son of Fett. Murmurs of gaining favours with others saying it’s bad luck to have one on the same ship as them. Jedi and Hondo who have known Fett are also reluctant to give their opinion when Cody asks what Jango was like.

Movie accurate romantic and sexual tension between obi-wan and cody, gonna say period accurate homophobia also playing its part in stopping them acting on it.

After being rescued from being marooned Obi-Wan promises Dooku he will marry Satine if they rescue Cody, then sneaks out of ship to help take the Pearl and then on to rescue Cody. If it is Jedi in the crew they may well go with him but otherwise same as film. Hondo persuades Maul that he should become a commodore and Mauls crew “take a walk”. Then events as film but Obi wan kills Maul.

When they’re back at port royal, Cody saves Hondo from execution and Obi Wan saves them both either through really banking on his power as Dooku’s ward/heir or sneaking them away with distraction (possibly even before execution date). I quite like the second option as there’s an opportunity for using smugglers tunnels and a first, desperate kiss as Cody escapes with Hondo to join the crew on the Pearl.

So ends first film as it were. Here’s some more rough drawings of Cody and Obi-Wan start of first film vs third film. I absolutely used a reference for that first drawing of Cody and I nabbed the obi wan base for the drawings from another piece I’m working on so sorry about style discrepancies!

Second film! Satine and Obi-Wan’s wedding is taking place the next day and Cody, who has been writing letters back and forth with Obi-Wan , is waiting in the smugglers cave for him so they can run away together. But Obi-Wan never shows. Cody either hears at port or through Satine directly (who knew the plan to run away and was banking on the scandal meaning she could avoid marriage for a good while afterwards) that Obi-Wan has been taken into captivity by a Lord Palpatine/Sidious working for the interests of the East India Trading Company. The charges are for aiding and abetting pirates, his role in helping Hondo and Cody escape has been discovered apparently (maybe yes maybe no, Palpatine doesn’t give a fuck he just wants the compass). Cody somehow finds out about the compass being the wanted trade (Satine as a go between perhaps? Saying she’ll send hired men to get the thing that will save her fiancé?) and heads off in search of Hondo.

Hondo’s meanwhile been visited by an old friend to tell him it’s time to pay his debt, and the black spot appears in his hand. Surprise it’s not Jango! It’s Either Fox or Rex! Hondo scared shitless and runs ship aground on an island which is where Cody finds him and his crew at that time. (Do the Jedi help him get there??) Anyway think the island scenes will be more OFMD vibes than actual events of dead man’s chest.

Hondo tricks Cody into going onto shipwreck to search for key he’ll trade in return for compass. Flying Dutchman arrives and with it it’s captain, Darth Vader.

Another very rough drawing I added extremely rough shading to! Vader is combined Davy jones style with a vampire squid because 1) on brand 2) the membrane sections reminded me of the his mask. He’s wearing a bicorn hat which wouldn’t actually be the trend for another couple of decades but let’s just pretend Vader is incredibly fashion forward.

Cody is alive and so not of interest to Vader, until Hondo, who Vader has sensed and has appeared in front of on the Pearl, tells Vader that he’s a Fett and so part of his payment of 100 souls. Vader scoffs that a Fett son is payment of another’s debt and can’t be used by Hondo, but Hondo replies that Jango Fett died on land and so has no need to settle his debt anymore. Vader finally accepts when Hondo tells him Cody is in love, giving him a fortnight to find the other 99 souls.

Cody hasn’t heard this on the other ship so first he hears of it is Vader basically telling him and welcoming him as another son of Fett. Cody is confused when Vader tells him he can join his brothers on deck, figures he means crew mates, but instead comes face to face with dozens of men who look near identical to him in various states of ‘fishification’.

More rough drawings! I spent too much time on these but they’re still rough so heck it. Only did Alpha 17, Rex and Fox for these ones.

Alpha has been part of the crew for the longest time, as the first son that Jango Fett ‘paid his debt’ with. Torn between hair styles, but he’s turning into a great white shark. Alpha hasn’t known any life outside of the ship as he was barely walking when Jango took him to Vader. Jango essentially decided to settle his debt with Vader by making the souls to give himself because he’s a full out bastard. Mostly this meant one night stands and then showing up a few years down the line and promising to the mother he’d take care of the child.

Fox actually managed to live his life without Jango taking him as a child but it was still a hard life and he’s actually encountered Lord Palpatine/Sidious before. He doesn’t talk of that time but he has the brand on his neck from it (the pirate P). Either Palpatine killed him or eventually he either ran into Jango or those who knew of sons of Fett and believed that sending one to Vader would grant you favour from him/gain you a wish or something. It doesn’t, Vader just subtracts one from Fett’s debt. (Possibility of Palpatine killing Fox hoping to gain communication/favour with Vader?)

Rex is the most recent addition to the brothers in the crew aside from Cody. He’s only a couple of years younger and only a bit of fishification has started. He’s the most hopeful still of the brothers. He’s the one Cody trusts most and has as a confidant for his plan to steal the key.

Meanwhile Obi-Wan has escaped and disguised himself as a pirate. Manages to find Hondo and various Jedi. They may their way to island with the chest on it and Cody, who has managed to escape the Dutchman (name change pending) appears and fights Hondo.

Feel it would be kind of funny if Maul were to appear at this point and go all KENOBI, just to add to the chaos.

Vader is Anakin and fulfils the role of Davy Jones with Calypso being Padme (fun bit when they go to see her in her human form and they’re met by the handmaidens). Not a perfect fit as padme isn’t flighty and wild like the sea but hey ho. So Vader locked away his heart and trapped Padme in human form.

I honestly have no idea if the twins are running around somewhere or not and what they’re doing. Ashoka is definitely around somewhere as is Ezra and other rebels.

Had an idea of reincarnation or believed to be of Obi-Wan as someone Vader viewed as his in some way. Can either actually be reincarnation of just that they look similar/obi-wan is a descendant but Vader ends up obsessed with him which helps add validity when they pretend he’s Calypso/Padme.

Satine has been facing off with Palpatine and his cronies from a legal stand point but Palpatine isn’t playing fair or legal (particularly when he gets Vader’s heart (possibly delivered by Maul?)). Bo Katan would be sick to turn up and fight anyone and everyone.

Not sure if Jango is actually dead or not, but he had Boba and since he stuck around and loved his mother he thinks of him as his true child and has amazing cognitive dissonance to not be horrified and trying to rescue the others. But think he’s probably dead and boba’s running around somewhere not even aware how much danger he’s in (but possibly told by Jango not to tell people his real surname).

Oh also! Note on initial drawing - so I imagine that occurring with Mace Windu filling the role of Barbossa in the wedding scene!

Anyway hope there’s something in here that intrigues people!

#codywan #commander cody #my art #obi wan kenobi #alpha 17 #captain rex #commander fox #obi wan x cody #codywan au #star wars #star wars au #potc au #Hope I'll actually be able to find it this time in the tag!#codywan art

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r-2-peepoo · 1 year

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BAD BATCH SPOILERS

Now that the episode is out, let’s talk about Cody’s personality.

Yes he has one. Yes he has always had one. You can argue that he is underdeveloped (and I will agree with you, he hasn’t had nearly as much screen time as he deserves) but he isn’t a blank slate. He has always had a personality and here is a core part of it:

Cody is fundamentally good. That is who he has always been. He is a very obedient soldier but he is similar to Obi Wan in that he is a good person who is just very strongly bound by his duties, hence why they were so close and presumably why they were assigned to work together so often. Obi Wan Kenobi would not trust, let alone be close with someone and have him as his second in command if Cody was not a good person. People forget that Cody was probably the person Obi Wan saw the most throughout the entire war, they were together so often. Obi Wan would not proclaim Cody as a good man who he remembers fondly years into the future, even after he ‘betrays’ if he didn’t think incredibly highly of him and if the Kenobi stamp of approval isn’t enough to convince you then I don’t know what is.

There’s a reason Cody has the rank he has but also that all of the clones trust him, including TBB who generally do not like regs. It’s one of the first things we learn about them as a group actually. The fans have done an insane amount of work in Cody’s personality but it is based on what was already there. You can easily believe Cody is a somewhat stern yet very compassionate person when you read fics about him because that is who he’s been from the beginning.

Absolutely no part of me ever believed that Cody would work for the Empire willingly or that Rex would have to fight/kill him. If that had happened, as much as I love how angsty and dramatic it is as a concept, it would’ve been a complete betrayal of Cody’s character and wouldn’t be a fitting ending for him. The fan theories did get to a lot of us and honestly I thought they were plausible only because a misrepresentation of a fairly minor character is always possible in media, however that is exactly what it would have been had that been the plot. A misrepresentation.

Character arcs need to have structure and Cody turning fascist out of absolutely nowhere would not have fit in with his character arc. The inhibitor chip would be the only way for it to work and even then it wouldn’t be fulfilling at all. It could happen, but it wouldn’t feel right if that makes sense. A death is also a huge mistake, at least in my opinion. He is such a vital character for exploring who the clones are after the war. We still have the rest of the season so maybe he will still die but I truly do not believe it anymore. If he does, I firmly think it will be the wrong creative decision and would waste his character.

TL/DR: Cody has always been a sweet boy and I’m never letting people make me think he isn’t ever again ;-;

#leave my boy ALONE. HE IS NICE.#commander cody #the bad batch #obi wan kenobi #I’m not mad but it has been a little frustrating to see all the discourse.#anyway cody is a sweetheart and I adore him.

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gffa · 1 year

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HERE’S WHY I LOVE DARTH VADER THE WAY I DO. These two scenes are the last times we see Vader in the show, that we leave him on the barren moon where he’s screaming Obi-Wan’s name, cut open and exposed, wheezing and desperate for Obi-Wan to come back, all the vulnerable parts of him have been flayed open by Obi-Wan’s confrontation and Anakin’s feelings for Obi-Wan. Then we see him put back together, his armored shell around him intact once more, talking to Sidious, and this is why names are so important and why I talk so much about how Vader never uses anything but “Obi-Wan” unless he’s deliberately trying to hide the feelings that make him vulnerable. Sidious sees right through him, of course, that’s the whole point of yanking Vader’s leash, and that we’re seeing what an absolute projection that last scene is. The juxtaposition of those two things is what Darth Vader is to me. It’s also illustrated through the juxtaposition of the prequels and the originals, that the Vader of the OT is only ever once seen without his mask, but in the prequels we get to know Anakin Skywalker as a desperately feelings-laden, clingy, needy, hot mess who cries and screams and rages and loves and smiles and laughs all the time. But Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader. That’s a huge point of the Obi-Wan Kenobi show, that he is still that needy, clingy, angry hot mess of a character. That when you see him sitting on his throne, looking like the top dog of the GFFA, it’s a lie. It’s a projection. It’s the same as the armored shell of the suit around him, it’s there to protect the soft belly of Anakin Skywalker that can be cut open with the right dagger. To many in the galaxy, they’ll never see beyond that lie of a projection, they never knew the man under that mask, the fearful person who drives everything Darth Vader does, they don’t mean anything to him, so he is that powerful walking nightmare. But to those that know him, those that remember the beautiful young man he once was, the way he was so sensitive to everything around him, that he was a giant ball of feelings, the way he was so afraid of losing those he loved, they know that that mask and that pose are nothing but an attempt to convince others of something that Anakin Skywalker never really is. That’s what I love about Darth Vader. One of the scariest villains in film history, one of the most nightmare-inducting monsters, is a lie. Darth Vader is a defensive armor because the core of who he really is is the soft, vulnerable person who desperately wants someone to tell him he’s doing good, tell him that they love him, tell him that he’s perfect, tell him what to do, and he wants to follow them to the ends of the galaxy. He’ll do monstrous things to get even a sliver of all of that, he’ll make terrible choices and get on his knees for anyone he thinks can deliver what he’s so desperate for, because he so desperately yearns for someone to lead him, to love him, to praise him. Because Darth Vader is just a projection to protect the open book that is Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader is a fixed mask to hide the way Anakin Skywalker rolls his eyes or tears well up in him or he scrunches up his face in distaste.

#anakin skywalker #meta

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bibiwrld · 6 months

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Nerdy loser Anakin Skywalker!— Turned Bad Boy!

Pairing: Nerdy loser Anakin! x Black fem oc!

Author’s note: I honestly thought this was a cute and funny idea. Kinda short, but I’m thinking of a part 2, idk.

Bad boy! Bad boy!

Whatcha gonna do?

Can’t run away from ‘em

💋!

They weren’t girlfriend and boyfriend, that’s what they agreed on until Sydnee was ready and he was fine with that. Anakin thought what they had was special and he wouldn’t want to ruin it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous when he’d see Sydnee talking to other guys around campus. They didn’t look like Anakin, they looked cooler— wearing fashionable and darker clothes, messy dark hair, piercings, always had a cigarette between their lips and they spoke with such vulgars words.

Was that allowed? Talking to other people?

Even if he wanted to, Anakin couldn’t, no other girl caught his eyes quite like Sydnee did. She was the only one for him.

He paced his living room with his phone to his ear, listening to it ring. “Pick up, pick up—”

“Anakin, it’s late, this better be some type of emergency.” Obi-Wan, his older brother, groaned.

“I-it is!” Anakin interjected, standing in place. “I met a girl.” His voice now a little more hushed.

Obi-Wan almost choked. “A girl?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” He said with rolled eyes. “I just need..a–a little advice.”

“I’m your older brother, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Do you think girls like edgy bad boys?” He plopped down on his couch.

“Some girls do, yeah. Girls think they’re cooler, more attractive, assertive. They like laid back guys, very nonchalant, guys who just don’t give a shit, y’know?”

Anakin was none of those things.

“I should just fake it, huh?” He adjusted his glasses.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Little did Obi-Wan know what he told his younger brother, was the worst advice ever.

Right after that phone call, Anakin went on a shopping spree. Buying a new wardrobe that consisted of dark tees with cool graphics, dark long sleeved shirts and baggy jeans. He also stopped at Target and bought black and blue hair dye, fake piercings and contact lenses.

He stood in front of his mirror, listening to the audiobook of The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath, with a patch of blue in his hair.

He couldn’t believe he was going through with this. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling.

His arms grew tired as he dabbed a section of his hair with a hair dye brush coated in black hair dye. He prayed this came out good, finally putting a clear plastic cap on his head.

💋

“I was thinking of hitting up this club tomorrow night, I heard they got male strippers.” Lilian slowly scrolled on her phone giggling.

“Wait for real?” Chloe leaned all the way into Lilian trying to look at her phone. “Oh my God, they’re hot.”

Sydnee didn’t really care to look, she had other things to worry about, like where Anakin was. He didn’t send a good morning text like he usually does every morning, as he’s always up before her, she hasn’t seen him around campus and it usually doesn’t take long for her to see him walking around.

“What’s your problem, Sydnee?” June asked with obvious attitude, chewing her gum obnoxiously as her nails clicked against her phone.

Sydnee doesn’t know why she still hung around this girl, she was so rude and annoying. “I’m just wondering where Anakin is, that’s all.”

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t see him in Physics today.” Chloe rested her chin into her palm, suddenly thinking about Anakin.

“Seriously girl?” June scoffed. “You’re still hung up on that guy? It was one thing to fuck him, but to actually give a shit about him is crazy.”

Sydnee’s fist balled up, slowly turning her head towards the obnoxious snob. Before Sydnee or Chloe could say something in defense of Anakin, Lilian cut them off.

“Is that..is that Anakin?” Her tone was a mix of surprised and a bit of disbelief.

Sydnee quickly turned around, searching the busy cafeteria for the boy with glasses, but she didn’t see him at all. She squinted, then noticed a tall guy in an army green tee, baggy ash jeans, grey converse and black, messy hair, sluggishly walking over to them.

She could only stare in awe, her eyes just following him as he got closer. She noticed he had on black eye shadow, messily smeared on his lids.

He dropped his bag on the floor, sitting beside Sydnee. “Hey doll face.” He removed the cigarette from his lips, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Doll face?” Sydnee silently muttered to herself. He’s never talked like that, ever.

“Sup girls?” He nodded to the 3 girls.

“Uh..hey?” Lilian rose a brow.

“What’s with the look?” Chloe asked.

He focused hard on every word, trying not to stutter.

“Can’t a guy express himself?” He snapped, slouching and spreading his legs.

“I think he looks better this way.” June gave small nods.

Of course she did.

Sydnee rolled her eyes at June, then brought her attention back to Anakin. She reached her hand out to fix his hair . “You have bed head, Ani—”

He corrected her, moving his head so she couldn’t touch it. “Anakin and that’s just how my hair is.”

“Well Anakin, you missed Physics class.” She narrowed her eyes at him, taken back by his actions. “And you didn’t text me, I was worried.” Her voice softened, a pout on her lips.

He took a small drag from his cigarette. “Woke up late.” It took everything in him not to choke.

“You never wake up late.” Her brows furrowed.

“Are you wearing eye makeup?” Chloe leaned over, examining him.

His voice was a bit shaky, trying to maintain that dominant tone. “No…?”

“Okay, liar.” Lilian chuckled.

Sydnee looked him over and over again, noticing every detail about him. She didn’t hate the look, but she was a bit confused.

“What’s with the cigarette? You don’t even smoke cigarettes.” Sydnee felt like she was losing her mind. “And your hair…did you dye this yourself? And when did you get all these piercings?”

Anakin shrugged. “I’ve found myself, y’know?”

Sydnee knew something was up, but she didn’t know what. “Where are your glasses?”

“Don’t need em.” Smoke escaped his pink lips.

“Can you stop with the smoking? We’re indoors.” She screwed up her face.

“Whatever.” He took the cigarette from his lips, smushing it at the heel of shoe, then flicked it off somewhere.

June then jumped in. “Why don’t you stop complaining and appreciate that your boy toy looks hot?”

That was it.

Sydnee grabbed her bag and abruptly stood up. “Go fuck each other.” Looking June and Anakin in the eyes before storming off.

Anakin internally panicked, this wasn’t going how he planned it was.

“What’s her deal?” June screwed up her face.

“You obviously don’t know what the deal is because there is no fucking deal.” He spat before grabbing his bag to chase after Sydnee.

Sydnee hustled down the hall, stepping harshly with arched brows.

“Sydnee!” His voice called out. “Sydnee!”

She rolled her eyes and stopped walking, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “What is it, Anakin?”

“Y-you’re mad.” He frowned, standing in front of her.

“Well duh.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He breathed out. “I thought you’d like m-me..like this.”

“I don’t hate how you look, but the way you’re acting, why would I like that?” She looked away.

“B-Because I saw you talking t-to guys…that l-looked like this.” He breathed out. “I-I thought i-if I–uh— if I looked and acted like them, maybe you’d l-like me more.” He hung his head low.

Her arms gradually unfolded at his confession. “Anakin, what?”

“I-I know, it’s sooo em-embarrassing.” He groaned. “I-I hate cigarettes!” He then tugged off one of the fake earrings. “Th-these aren’t even real!”

Sydnee couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re too cute, Anakin.” She cupped his face, bringing it down to hers.

“Call me Ani, plea-please, I like it when you call m-me that.” He nuzzled his face into her hands.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t ever change yourself, I like you just as you are.” She brought her lips to his, tasting the cigarette he smoked, but she didn’t care.

His hands found her waist, bringing her in closer.

The smacking of their lips were the only things heard in the empty halls. She softly tugged on his bottom lip, making him moan out.

“So cute.” She muttered before pulling away. “You do look really hot though.”

“Really?” He beamed.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “How about we go back to your place and fuck with your little bad boy cosplay on, hm?”

He covered his mouth in excitement. “Oh my God, y-you’re so insanely a-attractive.”

She giggled, holding his hand. “Come on, bad boy Anakin.”

💋

#my works💌🌷#anakin the nerd💋!#college anakin skywalker #nerdy anakin skywalker #sw anakin #college anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #nerdy anakin #soft Anakin Skywalker #star wars anakin #modern anakin #bad boy anakin skywalker #hayden christensen

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writergeekrhw · 1 year

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HOW TO KILL A CHARACTER

(A Writing Spew)

I'm trying to archive some of my old Twitter writing spews on Tumblr. You know, because of things. So here's a rather big one. HOW TO KILL A CHARACTER.

/BeginSpew

Okay, you’re a writer. You’ve got a mess of characters. You want to move your audience. So, it’s time to take out the old writer’s ax and chop chop chop! But how do you do it with maximum impact without your audience turning against you forever?

Pull up a chair and Uncle Robert will explain it to you!

(Warning, there may be spoilers ahead for stuff that if you haven't seen it by now it's your own damn fault.)

Luckily, there are a lot of reliable tricks to kill that character. Any of them can work for both #TVWriting and #Novels. Some of them can backfire. Here are some proven approaches…

Death #1: The Intro Death!

Want to set the stakes for your world? Introduce a character or characters and fool the audience into thinking they will be a big part of the story. Then… CHOP! OMG THEY’RE DEAD! SHIT JUST GOT REAL! AKA the Hello-Die.

The Hello-Die pretty much always works because the audience hasn’t had time to really get invested, but they’re invested enough to feel the sudden shock.

Examples: Psycho. Buffy (S1E1). GOT Teaser. #DS9 pilot. Hill Street Blues (averted).

The Hello-Die is often used by shows to shake up your expectations in what has usually been a fairly safe genre. And yes, I did this in #Andromeda. You think this is a nice safe Fantasy/SpaceOpera/CopShow/FamilyDrama? NOPE! Hello-Die! Watch out for exploding Helmsbugs.

Death #2: The Mentor Death

Your character learns cool stuff from the smart old person. Then the smart old person dies! OMG! “But I had so much more to learn!” “True, but don’t you see? This was the real lesson.” AKA The Obi-wan.

The Mentor Death is pretty safe too. We all know the old people we learn from are going to kick it soon, right? But that’s okay, because WE GOT THIS! Circle of Life, ya’ll!

Examples: Star Wars. Star Wars again. Star Wars that other time too. Harry Potter.

Death #3: The Hero’s First Kill.

Your hero lives in a violent world, but they’re a good person. They don’t want to be a killer. Alas, the world needs them to kill. And you want to portray how that impacts your hero. And so that minor villain must die!

The HFK can be tricky. For best results, the victim should need killin’. Because you want the audience to still like your hero. Plus it’s your hero’s first kill, so you need to overcome their reluctance. Or maybe it’s an accident? (OR IS IT?)

Either way, now your hero is transformed and all it took was offing a minor character. WARNING: Often involves hero puke!

An excellent example of the HFK is the Stable Boy in GoT. Arya asked him to let her go. He wouldn’t. She insisted. He said the Queen would pay her handsomely for her. She lashes out with Needle and… OOOPS! Or was it an oops? Well now he’s dead & Arya’s on her way.

Death #4: The Villain’s First Kill

The opposite of the HFK. The villain is bad, but he hasn’t killed… yet. Then he takes his first victim (usually someone either plucky or gross) and he just can’t help himself! Afterward, unlike the hero, the villain feels good.

He’s got a taste for this now. It’s going to happen again. Cue dramatic (or ironic) music!

The VFK can also sometimes be the Intro Death. Maybe it’s not the villain’s 1st kill, but it’s the first we see. Either way, the VFK is relatively safe, though there's a risk that if the victim is too likable, the audience won’t just hate the villain, they’ll hate the author.

Which is why the VFK is often someone gross or “disposable” or even theoretically somewhat deserving. In American Psycho, the first kill is a homeless man, the second is a Wall Street asshole.

Another VFK example: In the Bone Collector, the first death is a man no one cares about, and he dies off-screen, but the next is a plucky woman who dies horribly onscreen. The story eases you into it.

Still, the VFK is fairly safe. It needs to be just bad enough to shock, but no so awful that you completely lose the audience. You can get awful later once you've built up good will.

Now come some of the tougher deaths to pull off, starting with...

Death #5: The Season One/Book One Death

An important character dies relatively early in your tale. This is usually done because you want to drive home the stakes even more. Also the death launches/twists the story. AKA The Boromir AKA The Ned AKA The Sean Bean.

The Sean Bean is tricky because you’ve spent a fair amount of time getting the audience invested. You may have even tricked them into thinking the Sean Bean is a major hero. The more invested they are in TSB, the higher the risk you might lose your audience.

To minimize audience hate, make sure they understand it’s kind of Sean Bean’s fault. Or a noble sacrifice. Or if the character is minor enough (Hi Tasha Yar) it's a way to show the random awfulness of the universe. The important part is your real heroes will learn from this.

There will be crying and anger and thirst for revenge (or Data will struggle to understand death and we’ll all love him for it.)

The Purpose of the Ceremony - YouTube

Now part of why the Sean Bean works is its earliness. The later in a story a character is killed, the more their death needs to have meaning. You can kill Tasha randomly in Season One but you would never do that in Season Six.

In Season Six, if a regular dies, it better not be random or the audience will feel angry and… Oh. Yeah. Her. I wasn’t on staff then. IT’S NOT MY FAULT!

Anyway, the later you get, the more meaning a death needs to have, ideally.

Now we’re getting into the Big Earned Deaths. So let’s talk about them.

Death #6: The Big Bad Death

This is pretty easy, honestly. The easiest. The audience has been waiting for this bastard to die for years! They will cheer. Even if you’ve run this asshole through the Face/Heel Revolving Door a few times (Hi Gul Dukat), by now, they’re past redemption.

The Big Bad needs killing. KILLING THEM IS KINDA THE POINT. Go for it. Make it as horrific and painful as you’d like. Make them fall a LOOOOOOONG way before they hit something. Make them bounce a bit. The audience will love you for it.

Death #7: The Sacrificial Hero Death

Solid option. You might want to foreshadow the heck out of this. Maybe even near-death your hero a few times. But still, the audience usually gets this one. After all, messiahs die. It is known.

There will be tears, but we all know sometimes the only way to save the world is to die. If the good done by the hero’s death outweighs the sadness the audience feels, this can even be uplifting. Bittersweet chocolate is the best, right?

The SHD is a perfect way to kill a beloved character late in a novel or show. They died for our sins! If not for them, we’d be toast. Very satisfying when done correctly. I mean, there are entire religions based on this. Do it right and it packs an immortal punch.

Death #8: The Shakespearean Tragedy

Your hero isn’t really a hero. They might’ve started that way and/or had good intentions, but they’ve slippery-sloped themselves into full blown villainy… and they know it.

They’ve had their moment of tragic awareness. They realize theirs is a tale told by an idiot. Time to go out in the blaze of glory/late heel-face-turn sacrifice/by their own hand. My kingdom for a horse! Lay on Macduff! Good night sweet prince!

The classic ST is incredibly satisfying for the audience. They’ve enjoyed watching a good person descend into villainy, living vicariously through his/her badassery. They felt bad when the badassery turned to madness. SO MUCH METH!

Now the villain realizes how wrong it all was, and how flawed they are, they deliver a final moral lesson, then CHOP! And... cue Baby Blue, maybe some passing prince gives speech... then... curtain.

Death #9: The Final Wrong

Remember how bad that bad guy is? Gee, when’s the last time they were really, really bad? Time for them to shockingly kill a beloved character right before the final confrontation with the hero! I know you traveled a long way to help, but die Scatman Crothers!

Now there’s no going back. Now the villain can’t be redeemed. They must die. Cue the final chapter/episode/season/third act.

This one is risky as hell and maybe don't kill one of your few/only female POC protagonists this way but hey, you be you.

Death #10: The Sidekick Sacrifice.

Your hero can’t just win clean, right? That’s boring. There has to be a cost. And sometimes that cost is Robin’s life. Often this is a minor heroic sacrifice in its own right, but by someone other than the hero.

The sidekick takes the bullet, goes into the warp core, etc. Can be combined with the Final Wrong. Either way, "I have been... and always shall be... your friend." Cue tears.

Death #11: The War is Hell

A variation on the Sidekick Sacrifice. Beloved character dies randomly in a final great battle because War is Hell.

Sometimes the WiH is just A Bad Break. The bullet came from nowhere. WTF?!? Sometimes this happens in the Fog of War. No one saw it. The hero finds the body afterwards and feels the cost of victory. It’s high, man. So very high.

And yes, I used this one in #TheGoblinCrown. War is Hell even in YA fantasy novels.

Death #13: I Couldn’t Save Her

The riskiest variation on the late character death. The kid your hero has been protecting all along dies. The hero tries to save her/him but fails. Generally, only done in the Darkest Timelines. Or at the start of Alien 3. Fuck Alien 3.

The ICSH tells your audience this is not a hero’s story. This is a brutal examination of the inherent unfairness of life. Surprise!

WORDS OF CAUTION!

WARNING: Beloved Characrer Deaths often do not go over well. Use with caution.

The Final Wrong, the Sidekick Sacrifice, the War is Hell, and the I Couldn’t Save Her/Him are all somewhat risky. Sometimes you kill the very character that the audience most cares about. You know, like Glen. Or Lexa. OMG Lexa!? You can lose big chunks of your audience this way.

Still all four can be effective ways of turning on the feels late in a story. If you use them, make sure they either feel super well-earned or that they fit your theme so well that the audience will accept it.

But be careful. The biggest danger here is when the audience doesn’t realize you’re going to go this bleak and then you do and they feel betrayed. Can be a deal-breaker.

The more innocent the victim, the more horribly they die, and the more pointless the death, the bigger the risk you run of turning off your audience completely. And if it's an underrepresented character that a percentage of your audience deeply identifies with? Oh boy. Run.

Death #14: The Glorious Last Stand

This character was a prick all along, really. No one liked them. But when the chips were down, when our backs were against the wall, the they pulled the pin in their grenade and blew up a crapton of Aliens. Hurray!

The GLS can be supercool. The GLSer wasn’t the hero or the villain. Somewhere in the middle really. But we admire the way they went out. Their death redeemed them. If done right, audience will cheer for their bravery, finally loving them just as they die.

Death #15: The Everybody Dies

Rare. Tricky. Deeply powerful when done right. The time for characters like these is done. Their world is over. Their final great sacrifice, or noble last stand, or tragic Bolivian gunfight was inevitable. But oh how brightly they burned in the end.

Look at how badass they were. Look how bravely they faced death. And remember what it meant! Perhaps we would not be alive today if not for their transformative deaths. We will never forget them. Also their death may spur us all on to victory/change/redemption.

Or maybe the Western is just over. We're gonna miss you, Butch and Sundance! Cue montage!

Death #16 (but not really): Apotheosis

Your character dies technically, but really they become one with the Prophets, God of Light, Force. AKA The Sisko. You can only really pull this off in genre or stuff that pretends not to be genre but really is. Modern variation: Uploaded into the A.I.

Apotheosis can work extremely well if done right. Star Wars does it a lot and it works pretty much every time. You get the OOMF of killing a major character, but you reassure the audience that "They will always be with us."

If handled poorly, it can feel like a huge cheat, but when done well, can be a very satisfying way to kill off your awesome main character at the end of a long series without totally pissing off your audience. Like I said... The Sisko.

FINAL WORDS!

There are lots more ways to kill characters, of course. Including the bad ways to kill.

The It Was Supposed to be a Cliffhanger &Then We Got Cancelled and Now They’re All Dead I Guess.

The That Actor Was a Prick So We Offed His Character and Didn’t Care How We Did It.

The Oh, I Realized I Didn’t Need That Character So Gave Them a Perfunctory Death.

But I think I’ve covered the major and better ways to handle offing a character.

So yeah. Sometimes characters need killing. Just remember, you need to make their deaths satisfying in terms of plot, character, and/or theme or you risk losing your audience.

There are no small deaths. Every character is some off-screen mother’s child. Make it count. Make it matter. Make it worth the pages/screen time.

But think about your favorite movies/books/tv show. I bet they all had memorable deaths. I bet you cried. ADMIT IT, YOU CRIED! Look, I cried when Mike died in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. I CRY EVERY TIME I READ IT.

(Mike = War is Hell/Sidekick Sacrifice/Fog of War)

Character Death is one of the most powerful tools in a writer's arsenal. Like all powerful tools, it should be used sparingly, thoughtfully, and for maximum impact. Give them the deaths they deserve!

And with that, I officially pronounce this spew dead. But don't feel bad. This spew will always be with us.

/endspew.

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cactuswaterscactusfields · 6 months

Text

How Many Moments Are In Forever?

I went to Galaxy’s Edge at DisneyWorld recently and got to meet Vader, and he was so scary and intimidating that I just had to put it down into words. But also spice because of Helmets. This is kind of a continuation of Him., but it’s not reliant on Him., so you don’t need to read it to read this. Also, Anakin’s face doesn’t get Mustafar’d, but he wears the helmet to help him breathe, just so that the reader recognizes him. Bless his heart.

After the Chancellor commanded the clones to execute the Jedi, your master, Anakin, sent you away in an escape pod, bound for Mustafar. He told you he’d come to you, but when you witness him and Obi-Wan duking it out, you’re forced to escape. Will this new Lord Vader show you mercy? Or will he break his promise to you and execute you like the younglings?

Warnings: Angst, Smut, trauma, Order 66, peril, a short bit of a happy ending. Is Anakin still having a face/hair canon compliant? I don’t know. No beta we die like the younglings.

crossposted here on ao3 All characters depicted are 18+.

So sorry it took me so long to get out. Hope you guys enjoy, and once again thank you to Cilantro and Rio for peer pressuring me into finishing it.

There’s blood on your skin, ashes on your hands, your forehead, staining your vision and future. Where is he? He said he’d be here. He’s never lied to you before. He’s always been there. He sent you to this hell, this planet, and told you you’d be safe there. Just wait for me , he whispered into your ear, placing a warm kiss on your lips.

You can still feel it. His soft, chapped, gunsmoke lips, carrying the weight of the world, pressing against yours, worried, gentle, loving. He had looked down at you with those ocean-blue eyes, filled with worry, and gently buckled the strap of your seat, tight around your torso. You had stared at him, silently begging him not to send you away, but he stepped back and shook his head, smoke rising from the temple behind him.

Your head hurts, so, so badly. It’s throbbing, sharp, like a part of you has been ripped out and stomped on. What is this feeling? Where is he? Where is your master? Maybe it’d be best if you just slept, if you just went away, if you just…

Two black durasteel boots step over the forgotten, discarded plates of a destroyed door. Soldiers without names in white armor step aside, as the black fluttering cape brushes past their bowed heads. Those in his wake look up, seeing shining black plates in place of eyes, a mouthpiece sounding out the last song they'll ever hear--a song of pain, of death, of violence, of labored breathing, and ashen lungs. You can’t tell who it is. Are you one of his victims? One of his soldiers? You’re staring up at him, impossibly tall, impossibly strong. You can sense his signature, but it feels..wrong. Artificial, like someone took a once healthy signature and slashed and cut and slashed and cut until it was nothing but ribbons, and then stitched and stapled it together, a horrific chimeral amalgamation of what it was.

He turns to look at you, those eye plates staring right into your soul, and you know who it is, oh maker, what happened to him? He raises that scarlet blade, humming with energy, and raises it to slice at you, the red glinting off his helmet, you can see his eyes, yellow and red, oh maker he’s swinging, so quickly, so painfully, and—

You snap awake, the molten and ashen air greeting your abused throat and lungs. How long were you asleep? How long were you unconscious, unaware of where he could be? Is he here? Did he leave you? Is he gone? Who was that man, with the massive scarlet blade, why did he feel like your master? What happened to him? Where is Anakin?

You finally look around at your surroundings, the landing space having been cleared due to the powerful downward-facing thrusters of your ship. There are what look like lava falls flowing down distant spires and mountains of charred rock, and the black sand on the lava bank next to you is being lapped at gently by a flowing molten river. The atmosphere here is thick, angry, with..you can feel it in the air, burning hatred and sulfuric power, as if darkness has festered in this place for millennia, for longer than you could imagine.

Mustafar.

You’ve heard of this little moon, once lush and vibrant, like Naboo or Alderaan, but the Sith (or something, Master Kenobi wouldn’t tell you when you inquired further) corrupted it, leaving it charred and hellish.

You can see glowing blue blades in the distance, dancing across a thin beam of metal in front of massive waterfalls, and you immediately know from that aggression who it is.

Ani.

You stand quickly, before watching as he leaps toward the shore of a riverbank, and the other blue blade slices up, impacting and cutting through his legs—

You have to go. You have to go. Something is very wrong and you need to leave right now. You can’t tell what it is, can’t tell who is forcing you to leave, can’t tell if the force or your own gut is telling you, but you need to escape right knifing now . You smash your hands into the buttons, desperately trying to get the small ship to activate, and it slowly lifts into the air as the overhead cover closes. You feel the engines roar as it begins to send power to the hyperdrive, and you’re pushed back, further, further, and you leap. The bright whistling lights of the stars racing past greet your eyes, and then it hits you, like a ton of bricks.

Maker, he’s dead. And you left him to die. You didn’t save him.

What have you done?

When he needed you most, you left him. This man who has given you everything, gave you a home, gave you knowledge and instinct and love and pleasure, gave you happiness and a place to stay when you had nowhere else to go, the man who saved your life from certain death, was left to die on a shore of fire and lava by the woman who should have loved him more than anyone else.

Wait.

That vision, that dream you had. What did it mean? What could it possibly have meant? That man, maker you hope was a man, felt so much like him, so much like the one you love, does that mean he survives? You don’t know. You hope so, but that red blade…

Does Anakin become a Sith?

The drunk man crashes down next to you, thrown by his partner. You look over at him, taking another sip of the disgusting pisswater they have the nerve call spotchka. At least it’s liquid. You take a deep breath, before looking back at the current bar fight going on over, what you’re pretty sure, was a game of sabacc gone wrong. Your mind wanders back to that day on Mustafar, the last time you saw him. How did you even find yourself here, this shithole known as Tatooine, a worker in a bar, cleaning after hours and giving your…unique clientele their drinks. At least it’s out of the way.

The empire has been hunting Jedi, with Darth Vader at its helm, and you’re at the top of the list of bounties they’ve got. You don’t even know how many credits you’d fetch now, but it’s got to be enough to buy a waterfront property on Naboo and never have to worry about working again.

Not that anyone has the balls to take on a former Jedi. You’re fully aware of what your people can do, and bounty hunters usually leave the Jedi hunting to inquisitors. Sometimes you catch eyes, though. Through the crowd, brown-robed men with vibrant blue eyes that you swear you’ve seen before, with familiar tired lines and sandy brown beards, before they disappear through the crowd. It’s better not to gather. Better to stay separate, silent, and alone. If you’re caught, you at least won’t know the location of any other Jedi.

Almost as if on cue, you can hear the stomping of stormtrooper boots, as they flood in to break up the fight. Your hand immediately tenses to your side, before lowering. Of course, your lightsaber is hidden. You don’t have it out anymore. It’s still on you, but if someone were to see it, you’d be arrested and sent to… indoctrination before you could even blink. They pull the two men who started it apart, both soaked in their and the other’s blood, and other patrons immediately back up to their seats, avoiding the troopers. Everyone here has bad blood with the empire. It’s part of living here, in the outer rim, staying well away from their gaze.

Something’s wrong. Of course, it is. Your mind immediately goes to finding an escape route, finding some way to get out of here, but the black fluttering of capes freezes your train of thought. You’ve done this before, you can do this, you can get out of here. It’s just like the last few times, you’ll be able to get out, right? You’ve smelled this stench before, this stench of death, of hate, of malice, of eradicating the only life you ever knew.

Inquisitors. Looking for you. You step back from the bar, and their heads jerk toward you, quickly vaulting over the counter, spilling your spotchka. You narrowly duck under their arms, before slamming the back door of the bar open. You dodge around stacks of supplies and long-expired bills and spotchka, dodging around your now very confused boss, and you finally see it, the exit door, the door to freedom, the door that will let you escape from them, and you shove it open—

Black, dark black boots. A red and black cape, with a glinting dark helmet blinding you in the desert sun. Three inquisitors? You’re important. You draw your blade, its color gleaming off their armor, and you slash at them in a wide circle, blasting them back with a quick wave of your hand, before shoving past the one in the doorway, praying you stunned him, praying to the maker you successfully escape—

A hand wraps around your tunic, yanking you back, and a needle jams itself into your stomach. A strong, black leather glove holds you tight, pulling you back, and pushing you down, further, further, until you’re crushed against the ground, like a stone under thousands of tons of pressure at the core of some far-off planet.

As your vision fades, you see the helmets glinting down at you, dangerous, nightmare incarnate. Shouting around you becomes muddled, indistinguishable, a hundred or a thousand voices speaking, screaming, yelling, it’s all the same, what are they saying…? Everything’s fading, you can’t see, can’t think…

Kriff.

His hand wraps tight around your throat, pulling you back into him, his strong, sweaty, muscular chest pressing itself into your shoulder blades. He pulls you back further, panting hot breath against your ear, and he slams himself deep into you. How long have you been at this? How impossibly long have you been like this, being ruined by your–

Your mind freezes as his free hand travels from somewhere near your head, gripping the sheets, down your body, down, further, further, before gently touching your nub and rubbing sweet, sweet, nuclear circles into it, freezing your mind every time he slams his cock into you again and again and again.

His stamina is infinite. How many times have you already come? How many times has he brought you over the edge of that divine cliff, tossed you off, and he hasn’t leapt once? Your wandering mind rips back to reality once again as he pounds once, twice, three times, you’re so close, running, sprinting, a blur of light against an impossible sky, before you take that olympic leap.

You’re frozen. His hands, paused, his cock, an immovable force against an unstoppable orgasm. And then he–

You’re thrown from your dreams as your head collides with the metal plating of what your drug-addled brain assumes is a cell, and you’re left alone for a moment. You were just in his arms, just with him, just curled soft and warm underneath him, protected, why are you here?

Where are you? How long were you asleep? Why..why is there so much noise? It hurts your ears, so loud, so sudden, so angry, like metal ripping and tearing and cracking and shattering, breaking as if the world is made of glass and your ears are hammers. From the indiscernible noise, you can almost hear alarms, something akin to an emergency..why is there an emergency? It’s shaking your skull, shattering your bones, making your brain feel too big for your skull, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, maker it hurts,

And it stops.

Silent. You can hear nothing except his voice. His. Voice.

It’s Him.

Standing in front of you, staring down at you, his black durasteel eyes reflecting hell on earth, reflecting a person you don’t recognize, is that you? How could that be you? When were you covered in blood? When did you have such scars, such exhaustion painting circles under your eyes, thinning your cheeks, hollowing your sockets? What have you become?

“....Padawan.”

He was thinking the same thing. The world is frozen around you, and for once, nothing else matters. Nothing except him. He runs his black-gloved thumb across your cheek, but it’s cold. Artificial. Alone. Where did the warmth go that he had? Where is the comforting star within your void of life?

Where did the man who would do anything for you go?

“...Ani?” Your voice sounds hollow, far away, like you’re hearing it through a window.

Awful, artificial breathing greets your ears. Plastic, metal, durasteel, and bacta tubes scrape across your eardrums, like nails on the chalkboard of your soul. He stares down at you, his breath almost catching in his throat. Does he even have a throat anymore? Is he the man you fell for, the man you adore?

He lowers his hand slowly, before tilting his head and murmuring a short, simple command in a voice you’ve never known yet always loved.

“Follow.” And with a whisk of a cape, he’s walking away, leather boots thumping against the metal grate flooring. You quickly stand to follow him, and stormtroopers flank you on either side, their rifles held to attack at any moment, to gun you down like the thousands of innocents they’ve killed.

You follow your former lover down hallway after hallway, a maze of industrial lights and alarms and troopers sprinting past as the floor, walls, and ceiling quietly shake. You try to run to catch up with him, but his strides are so impossibly long, he’s so impossibly tall, that you’re cursed to inevitably follow behind him, never able to get to him. Just like Mustafar.

He finally turns what feels like the tenth corner, and you see a massive hangar with ships, pods, and craft of all kinds whirring about like some kind of dock hell. He walks over to a sleek, black ship, where troopers in strange black durasteel uniforms salute quickly, and climbs up the ramp. You lower your head as a rifle presses into your back, and a trooper’s voice sounds out behind you.

“Follow Lord Vader.”

Lord Vader? Is that what they call him? Is that what he calls himself? Is that who he has become? Some…lord of evil? Some lord of darkness, like a Sith? You’ve never heard of anyone besides the most powerful Sith being called Lords, is he that twisted, that corrupted?

Your mind snaps to reality as your legs quickly hurry up the ramp, and it closes once you’ve made your way into the small ship. There’s a simple cot against the wall, a few simple crates with various articles of clothing, and then there’s Him. Leaning against one of two cockpit chairs, he stands there staring at you, before reaching up towards that horrible, horrible black helmet, and pulling.

Anakin.

His fluffy blonde hair, now with a few silver streaks through it, is slightly pressed to his forehead above two… yellow…? eyes, his familiar scar across his eye drowned out by the massive burn across his cheek. Dark circles line his undereyes and his face..it’s so, so tired, so weary…

“I..thought you left me..I…” You stammer, the correct words hiding from you like flitting ghosts in a swirl of blazing, burning fire. How is he here? How is he alive? He sets the helmet down on the seat behind him, before stepping toward you, striding closer, closer, he’s so big, so intimidating, so tall, you step back, further, further, your back is pressed against the wall, he’s so close, right up against you, and…

He kisses you. But to say that would be disrespectful to the love, to the passion you feel. His lips press against yours, like two halves of a whole finally reuniting and sealing, bonding together as if telling each other that they will never, never separate again. His hands wrap around your face, holding you, his thumb rubbing your cheek, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, so small against him. He presses further against you, one hand sliding down to your shoulder and pulling your neckline down, and his lips trail slowly down your neck, before he latches onto the muscle, and he bites.

You squeak in pain as he removes the hand on your face and begins to shed his armor, dropping plate after plate after durasteel plate onto the ground with clangs. He’s left in nothing but a tank top and simple cloth pants, and the full extent of the pain he went through is revealed, missing both arms and both legs up to the thighs. You push him back for a moment, and he stares down at you, silently questioning.

“What happened?” Your eyes fill with tears as you scan the damage, gently running your hand along the seam of his larger prosthetic arm. You always knew he was missing one hand, but never his full arm. Never..this. Maker, how much can this cruel universe take, and take, and take, and take, and expect him to live as he has been?

What kind of life is this, to live for nothing at all?

“....I’m not living for nothing, padawan. I have you.” He gently takes your chin, letting out a small cough, and tilts it up to face him, the skin around his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiles softly. Right, he can do that. He can read your mind. You smile weakly up at him and–

You’re thrown into each other as the ship rocks violently, and more alarms blare outside as you’re reminded of the predicament you’re in. Immediately, he focuses while holding his arm out and your fall is slowed down as you land on his chest. He stands quickly, his arm holding you tight against his chest, and he takes your face in his hands again, coughing again harder.

“Hold onto something.”

He turns to the cockpit and quickly throws himself into the pilot seat, before flipping switches and levers and knobs as if he’s done this a thousand times before. You quickly hurry to the front of the ship, sitting down in the other seat and strapping yourself in, and his hand gently lands on your thigh, holding you as he presses the throttle forward, the ship lifting slowly before leaning and soaring out of the collapsing imperial star destroyer. He presses a few more buttons, and the ship shudders slightly before launching into hyperspace.

“Aren’t you a servant of the emperor?” Your voice wobbles slightly, and he sighs softly.

“I’m done. With it. With everything, padawan.” He coughs, his shoulders shaking slightly, and he groans in slight pain before looking over at you.

“The emperor would have you killed or tortured. I’m not letting him ever get to you again.” He says your name, soft, warm, whispered through a broken man’s voice, whispered through years of suffering and longing, loneliness and pain. He smiles weakly, and gets up slowly, holding his hand out as the buckles of your seatbelt undo themselves.

“I have missed you, so, so dearly. Ever since that day.” You stand slowly as he speaks, and he looks around.

“And I have not forgotten what we started earlier.” His nostrils flare with desire, before he pushes you back, back, back, until you’re against the ship wall once again, and he growls as he clenches his fist into your tunic, before pulling his hand back and tearing. He looks down at your bare chest with adoration, before grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the cot, bouncing slightly as he lifts his own shirt off, revealing burn after burn after burn across his still well-muscled chest, and he walks toward you.

Your whole life, you’ve felt at least somewhat strong. You may not be the biggest, the tallest, or the strongest, but you’ve been capable. You’ve never felt true fear for your life…until now. As this predator, this chosen one, this Sith draws closer, you feel like a dewback being stared down by a massive Krayt Dragon, with rabid hunger and malice in its eyes. He smiles that familiar fanged smile, before leaping onto you, and you can’t help but let out a squeak as he grabs and squeezes everything he can get his hands on.

He grinds against your still-covered core, and his hand finds your waistband before pulling and pulling until you’re bare before him, an art piece before a destroyer.

He leans back for a moment to admire you, before climbing down slowly, staring up at you as he comes closer, closer, closer, kissing his way down your stomach, running his hands along your soft inner thigh, and he stares at your entrance before leaning down and kissing your clit.

Maker, it’s like you’re being touched by a god, like your very self is being held by divinity. He begins to rub sweet, sweet, beautiful tight little circles into your nub with his tongue, and his fingers trail along your inner thigh before finding your entrance and pressing.

Oh maker he’s thick, stretching you out so perfectly that you can’t help but cry out and cover his fingers with your sticky sweet nectar. He begins to slowly rub into your core, his fingers fluttering gently, and you let out gorgeous little whimpers, whining as he kisses your clit again, and again, pulling back for a moment as his fingers begin to speed up.

You haven’t felt this good in years. You never could find it in yourself to try to pleasure yourself, your mind too preoccupied with thoughts of stress, fear, worry, losing the tight grip you have on your force signature to remain undetected, the pain of losing the people you love and grew up with, and the pain of not being able to find Ani.

But here, but now, his fingers pressing further, further into you, pressing against the spot that makes you squeal, you’re finding it so hard to think.

Maker, he’s so big, too big, you’re practically soaking his fingers, you can feel the band begin to tighten as he licks, and licks, and licks, tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter, so much impossibly tighter, the pressure building,

He stops, pulling his fingers back. Silent. Empty. Empty. Empty. His face pulled back from you. It’s agony, pure, unfiltered, suffering, your body desperately clenching around emptiness, searching for the pleasure it had, searching for the beautiful full feeling, and as he stares down at you, that malicious smile so carved into his face, you can’t help but cry slightly, welling salty tears filling your eyes.

“Oh, don’t cry, beautiful. I’m not done with you yet.” He crawls over you, his massive chest dwarfing your body, and he plants his elbow above your head before pressing his mouth against yours, so warm and soft and wet and inviting, with the softest hint of salt on his tongue.

He reaches down with his free hand and slowly unzips his pants, before pulling his cock out, and the sight of it just about makes you cry. It’s so big..so perfect, so adored, so… and he pushes.

Maker, if you thought his fingers were big, this is going to break you in half. He presses further, stretching your tight walls apart, before his cock kisses your core gently, and you gasp softly, grasping onto his hand as your chest begins to heave up and down. He pulls back out slowly, his cock rubbing against the soft walls of your center, and then he slams.

Maker, it’s like you’re being smashed by a jackhammer. He pulls and pushes and pulls and pushes, the most beautiful grunts dropping from his breath like flower petals, and you can’t help but sob his name like it’s a prayer like it’s the only word you’ve ever known. He grasps the sheet above your head, growling, and continues slamming himself into you, your bodies rubbing against each other like beautiful friction defining the universe. He forces your mouth open with his tongue, fighting yours for control over your very soul .

Maker, how is he speeding up? How is he so strong, so good, so fast, so hard, the pressure is building like explosions you can hear noise, whose voice is that, is that you? You can’t even tell, you’re so close to that explosion, the pressure is so bright, so tight, so fiery, you’re so overwhelmed, you’re so close, and then it snaps.

You’re like a star, with planets circling you, and you supernova. An explosion sending out across the universe, your force signature flaring bright with a rainbow of colors you couldn’t hope to comprehend, could never hope to understand. Wave after wave after wave after perfect, indescribable wave rush through you like oceans upon oceans upon oceans of desire, your mind’s so gone it’s like it was never there in the first place, you couldn’t even give your name if you tried. There’s a ringing in your ears, your fingers feel so foreign, so tight, they feel androidish.

He’s still pounding, still going in and out and in and out, you can hear words like Padawan and Love, and without knowing what they mean, you know that you’re loved, for the first time in so, so damn long. He’s sliding in and out with far more ease than before, like your body is expecting, needing him and his warmth.

Padawan, I’m close. Is that his voice, is he speaking? He’s so fast, so deep, so perfectly inside you, so perfectly yours, that the answers to the questions never mattered in the first place.

He jerks a few more times, shaking, and from somewhere far away, you can feel something warm, something hot, something blazing like fiery liquid fill you. He slowly pulls out, smiling, and flops down next to you, panting slightly, and he coughs again. He slowly throws his arms around you, lazy and exhausted, and pulls you tight against him, your legs still numb, core still shaking. How many seconds are in eternity? How many moments measure forever? You don’t know, you’ve never known, you could never know in the first place. But whatever the answer is, you’d be willing to spend the rest of your feeble little life with him, seeing him, knowing him, loving him. Maker, you missed his face, his voice, his smile, everything about you. He watches you, those unfamiliar yellow eyes boring into yours, and for a moment, it’s like there’s streaks of blue, blazoned deep into them, like cracks in a dam about to break open.

“I missed you, Padawan.” He gently runs his thumb along your cheek, the mechanics of the arm creaking and clicking.

“I know.”

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