#saber-crossed lovers

[whump-adjacent]

Cont. random omegaverse Obikin/Vaderwan

Re-posting this reblog of X separately because it deserves more eyes lol (and hopefully someone to someday write it properlyyy) 👀

After reading himboskywalker​‘s masterpiece Let me be that I am I’m now thinking of fitting my high stakes, ansgty mpreg Vaderwan reunion ✨imagine✨ into their universe somehow (with some huge liberties & way less professionalism oops) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

E.g.,

Omega Anakin and and Alfa Obiwan are partnered and very much in love, and Anakin has recently begun having heats again - although he knows he cannot conceive (due to damage from his suppressor implant).

However political tensions are brewing and Palpatine is quickly working on brainwashing Anakin to turn to the dark side, fostering deep mistrust between him and Obiwan. This even includes convincing him that Obiwan is repulsed by him because he cannot provide children & is having affairs with other Omegas.

Anakin and Obiwan become estranged as Anakin pledges himself to the Sith, and Palpatine knights him Darth Vader.

Then this happens (thanks to Wikipedia): Vader assassinates the Separatist leaders on Mustafar, while Palpatine/Sidious declares himself Emperor before the Galactic Senate, transforming the Republic into the Galactic Empire, and denounces the Jedi as traitors.

NOTE: Vadar doesn’t kill any younglings in this universe, but he does become completely ruthless and unbeatable in battle, and is very mean and nasty to everyone 🤫

The Jedi flee and Vadar stays in the city, at the full height of his Sith powers. However, he’s not sure if this feeling he has of being physically out of balance is part of the dark side, or something else. His last heat took place about 2 months ago - things were not good between him & Obiwan, but they still had sex (it’s fairly unavoidable for a mated pair during heat).

He is checked over by the Empire’s healers and discovered to be pregnant, with twins 🥺 His Omega hormones try their hardest to pull through, urging him to find his Alfa. Sidious works extra hard to convince Vadar that Obiwan must have known he was pregnant and had purposefully abandoned him and the babies since he was dissatisfied with him. The deep sadness fuels his Sith power so Sidious continues to feed him lies.

During Vadar’s pregnancy Sidious continues to train him in harnessing the dark side, encouraging him to be more ruthless and brutal. He attends Empire events and even various missions/battles into his second trimester, but eventually Sidious enforces that he rest & gather strength on world. Sidious is secretly holding out hope that he will be able to create even more powerful Sith leaders in Vadar’s children. He is also wary of the Jedi finding out about the pregnancy and using this against them.

During this time, the exiled Jedi are engaged in various battles across the growing Empire, but hope is waining as they are so greatly outnumbered. Obiwan (who does not know that Vadar is pregnant with his children) has been desperately pushing for a mission to rescue Vadar since they fled, but news of his Sith brutality in battle has spread, and it is decided by the majority that he is too dangerous and a lost cause - not that this stops Obiwan fighting for it.

At the beginning of his third trimester, seeing that Vadar’s omega hormones are reaching their peak, Sidious attempts to break any remaining bond between him and Obiwan, and tells him the lie that Obiwan was killed in battle. He also hopes that more pain will fuel his power. Vadar is secretly devastated, despite having already believed Obiwan had abandoned him. Sidious is pleased to see that he becomes even more powerful in the dark side than he even thought possible. He is now just hoping that the birth will be as smooth and confidential as possible.

HOWEVER, during an intel mission to the Empire base, a Jedi crew (not including Obiwan) cross paths with Vadar (who is full term) and are shocked to see that he’s pregnant. They manage to capture him somehow (???????) and bring him back to the Jedi base.

NOTE: I have no ideas around how this capture goes. This part of the imagine is V hazy. Vadar would have to be asleep or compromised in some way to be able to be captured. But not in labour yet. 🤔

Vadar in just in his robes as he was not prepared for battle. He attempts to cover his bump as much as possible - although it’s twins he carries fairly small, so it’s more or less the same size as a full-term single pregnancy bump. His eyes glow red with fury at the Jedi who’ve taken him- that he believes betrayed the Empire and abandoned him (plus allowed Obiwan to die in battle!). However, the stress of being captured has caused his body to go into labour, and he must harness the force to conceal the growing pain.

They manage to lock him in a cell, cuffing his hands with powerful restraints and locking one ankle to the floor.

NOTE: There needs to be something here that raises the stakes - i.e., Vadar grabs one of the Jedi using the force, and threatens to kill them if they don’t let him go. OR! They find out that there is an attack planned somewhere at a particular time, but they don’t know where so they can’t prepare for it. Vadar knows but he won’t tell them. And their family/friends are all in mortal danger etc, or something like that... or maybe it doesn’t need it, I dunno...

Vadar has been in his cell for several hours now and his labour is starting to progress quite quickly. He’s less and less able to conceal the pain and when Jedi come in to try different interrogation methods, they realise what’s happening.

Obiwan has been off-base doing something something… another mission with other resisters. But as soon as Vadar is captured one of Obiwan’s most trusted fellow Jedi sends him an urgent transmission. They don’t mention the pregnancy as they think this news is best delivered in person.

Obiwan arrives back and rushes to the base, where the counsel of exiled Jedi leaders are frantically trying to work out what to do. He doesn’t know where Vadar is being held otherwise he would have headed straight there. Every Alfa cell in his body is screaming at him to go to his mate, despite the horrible events that have happened since they parted, and despite not knowing of his condition.

Eventually someone realises Obiwan doesn’t know yet, and tries to deliver the news as calmly as possible - that Vadar appears to be very pregnant and currently in labour in his cell (and he is the only hope they have to defuse an attack being planned on the Jedi - tbc, stakes…)

Obiwan explodes and insists to be let in. They all discourage this saying Vadar is too dangerous and he will probably kill him on sight, he isn’t responding to any reasoning, or letting anyone get near him (including medics). He’s already injured multiple people by slamming them against the wall or chocking them with the force just for stepping in. Obiwan will not back down, he demands to go in and says he will cop whatever consequences result - that if Vadar isn’t responding to anything else, Obiwan is their only hope (haha). They finally concede, and take him to Vadar’s cell.

Some other Jedi are in their trying in vein to question Vadar, and dodging his force attacks - when Obiwan enters. They do not see him clearly and the tussling continues until Obiwan cuts through with a very clear “Anakin”.

Vadar freezes, breathless. The other’s aren’t sure what to do. Obiwan tells them to take off his hand and leg cuffs. They object and try to explain what they’ve been doing and how dangerous Vadar is but Obiwan booms “Off!” So they comply. “Out. Everyone. Now!” He says, and the officers rush out, leaving the two alone.

Now, my ideas for this section are:

- Vadar is sitting on a bench in the cell - like Grogu’s bench (even tho that’s an empire bench I guess), and has his robes wrapped around him with his hood on.

- Internally, Vadar wants to drop everything and throw himself at Obiwan, but the brainwashing by Sidious has been so thorough that he puts on a cold front. He cruelly taunts Obiwan, and when Obiwan replies with nothing but truth, concern and apologies, he starts accusing him of lying and abandoning him. In the midst of this he has several very strong contractions which halt proceedings and make Obiwan extremely worried. However Vadar won’t accept medical attention from the Jedi as he suspects they will use it as a chance to attack him.

- Vadar’s scent is sweet and intoxicating with young pregnant Omega, but with overpoweringly strong notes of pain and distress - from both his physical pain and the pain of the dark side. The result is like a dagger twisting in Obiwan’s chest.

- Obiwan begins to realise the extent of Sidious’ brainwashing. He explains that he never meant to abandon him - cheated with anyone, he has never wanted to be with any other Omega but him, and if that meant not having children he was completely happy to accept that. The closer Obiwan approaches the stronger his protective Alfa scent is to Vadar. Obiwan begins to make progress.

- Vadar says Obiwan must have been glad to be rid of him since he never tried to come back once the Jedi fled. Obiwan explains he has tried every single day to launch a rescue mission, but the majority wouldn’t support due to Vadar’s power. He is deeply ashamed he wasn’t able to rescue him, and his voice becomes an alfa growl as he apologises for not finding a way to go alone. He says he too was a victim of Sidious’ brainwashing, in that he thought Vadar didn’t want to be mates to him anymore - and that he was more interested in learning the ways of the dark side. Vadar denies that this was the case, but he is becoming more and more at the whim of his Omega biology. He has a huge contraction and almost falls apart. Obiwan wants to support him but still isn’t sure he has regained his trust, and uses all his restraint to stay at a respectful distance whilst Vadar groans and writhes under the pain. The omega distress scent filling the room is making this almost impossible.

- Obiwan kneels down and becomes tender - continuing to use the name Anakin, and summons all his Alfa abilities to assure him. He tells Anakin that he is his one and only mate. He married him, he marked him with his bite, he vowed to protect him forever - and nothing could change this. Anakin could kill him now and he’d die happy having been his Alfa. (Or something like this).

- The redness starts to fade slightly from Anakin’s eyes. He is overwhelmed by the instinctual omega urge to submit and accept his mate - and exhausted from labour. He finally reveals to Obiwan that Sidious said he’s been killed. Obiwan is disgusted. He asks when? Anakin says only a couple of months ago, that up until then he had been secretly hoping every day that Obiwan would return to him, but once Sidious said that, that part of him died forever.

- Obiwan is silent with fury. He collects himself as Anakin has another contraction, he is moaning openly now and shifting like he almost needs to start pushing. Obikin has initially wanted to believe it was his child, but then told himself it mustn’t be. He reasons it’s likely the work of Sidious organising for Anakin to be bred & create more Sith to further the chosen one lineage. He must have put Anakin through some terrible breading process to this end, as they both knew Anakin had such a small chance of conceiving after his suppressant implant.

- “You may have to allow the medics to help you very soon” suggests Obiwan gently, daring to place his hand on Anakin’s belly wrapped up protectively in robes. As though reading his thoughts (which he may well be doing), Anakin places his hand over Obiwan’s and tells him “they’re yours”. Under his hood his tired eyes lock with Obiwan’s, they’re not almost completely blue again. Obiwan is floored, he finally loses his composure and makes a sound that he didn’t know he could make. Then he realises - “they?”. “It’s twins” says Anakin, almost at a whisper.

- Obiwan can no longer hold his Alfa urges at bay, he lets out a cry and envelopes Anakin in a desperate embrace that goes no way close to expressing the joy and amazement he feels, paired with shame and regret in learning this news so late. Had he known Anakin was pregnant (with their children!) he would have flown into the empire base himself and single-handedly rescued him. Anakin clings to Obiwan in response, his breath rapid and raspy, and after a moment Obiwan feels the rhythm of his crying. “Anakin, I’m so sorry - I don’t deserve you” Obiwan can only repeat. They are a tangle of limbs and emotions on the cell bench. He pulls back slightly to removed Anakin’s hood. His brow is drenched with sweat from the pain. Obiwan brushes the tears that streak from his blue eyes.

- Suddenly Anakin’s expression changes, and another moment later he’s buckled over clutching his stomach, crying out in agony as another contraction takes hold. This is the worst one Obiwan has seen - he holds onto Anakin’s hand (which Anakin returns with a bone bracing grip), but he feels utterly useless to offer any assistance. There is a very sharp, sweet note of anise in Anakin’s omega scent, which Obiwan understands meant imminent birth.

- “I think we should bring in the medics” he tells Anakin, trying to remain as calm as possible. Anakin looks at him helplessly “you promise they won’t attack me?”. Obiwan wants to cry at how strong Anakin’s protective instincts are despite everything he’s been through. He gathers all the Alfa strength he can; “I give you my word as your Alfa. I will make sure no-one harms you or our children”. He holds Anakin’s eyes, and he finally concedes.

...More to come...(but I need to go to the shops!)...!

[imaginedisish]

The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life.  “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.  

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Locked up with Anakin:

Summary: Enemies to lovers (almost). You're locked up with Anakin Skywalker and ~tension~ happens.

Warnings: None just fluff and banter.

Word count: 1,330

"It's no use." He says uninterestedly, watching you pull at the door. "I already tried that."

You bristled at his unhelpfulness. Anakin Skywalker was seated in the far corner of the dark cell, under the light of the only small window, a tiny rectangle high up on the wall. The light outside was dying, the suns setting, illuminating the cell only slightly in an orange glow.

"How long have we been in here?" You asked, having only awoken moments ago. Cold, tired, and terribly confused. 

"I don't know for sure. I only gained consciousness a couple of hours ago. Hopefully this is the first sunset and we were only out for a few hours but there's no way to know for sure."

You groaned and wiped your face with your hands. A four day offensive on Ryloff, you just arrive back into orbit before your ship was pulled in via a tractor beam. Some kind of gas must have knocked the two of you out because now you were most certainly on a planet somewhere. 

"I sent out a distress signal before we were cut off. I'm sure they've already sent someone to come get us." He says lazily, arms crossed on his chest as he watched you try to think. 

You roll your eyes and take stock of what you had on you. No saber, obviously, no... anything. Frustration bubbled up inside of you, finding outlet in Anakin's bored features. 

Here you were, stuck in a cell with no way out, and he was acting like it was no big deal. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before turning to him.

"Can't you at least try and help me think of a way out?" you asked, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Anakin shrugged. "I've been trying, but it's not like I have my lightsaber or any of my other tools."

You knew he had a point, but you couldn't just sit there and wait for rescue. You looked around the cell, taking note of the stone walls and the metal door. There was a small vent near the ceiling, but it was too small for either of you to fit through.

You paced back and forth in the cramped space, "Ok fine. forget escaping - for now. Do you have any idea where we are? Who took us?" 

Anakin let out a sigh, his face twisted in a scowl. "I have no idea. This place is unfamiliar to me, and whoever took us must have jammed our senses somehow. I can't even use the Force to sense anything outside of this cell."

You nodded, glad he had some understanding the gravity of your situation. "So, what now?"

Anakin's eyes flickered to the metal door, his mind working. "We wait for our captors to show themselves. When they do, we take them by surprise and make our escape."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "And how do you propose we do that?"

Anakin smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I have my ways."

"Force, I hate you." You sit down in the opposite corner of his room and he looks at you with complete amusement. 

"What have I done?"

"Nothing. That's the problem." You say to his increasing agitation. “I’m sure you used to this by now but I don’t want to be locked up here!”

"Hey - what’s that supposed to mean?! Look, I can't magic us out of here! And I don't see you being very productive either!”

“Oh come on, this is not your first time locked up like this! You must be able to do something!” You say exasperated. 

He was getting wound up now. “I got nothing! I’m stuck here, same as you. We just have to sit here and wait.”

You huff, annoyed. 

Silence falls between you as you both settle in for the long wait ahead. The orange glow of the suns outside fades to darkness, leaving the cell in complete blackness. You're left to your thoughts and fears, wondering what fate awaits you at the hands of your captors. Wondering if Anakins eyes will ever leave your face. He has been staring at you for what feels like hours. Glaring, or gloating, something horrible. He always drove you crazy, it was supposed to be the quickest of missions otherwise you were sure to have put up more of a fight when the council paired you two up for it. 

So you sat here, frozen, feeling helpless as he stared, waiting for him to look away so he could think of some way to free you from your predicament. You didn't want his attention. So you simply sat quietly, trying to ignore him as best you could. 

 If Anakin kept looking at you like that, you might end up killing him, or worse, you might just go crazy under his gaze, lose your nerve and start kissing him.

No. Stop thinking about that. Just focus on the mission. You let your head lean back against the wall and let out a weary sigh, shivering slightly in the cold. 

As the moments dragged on in the dark cell, the tension between you and Anakin only seemed to grow. His intense gaze remained fixed on you, and you could practically feel the waves of irritation radiating from him. It was infuriating how he managed to push your buttons even in the direst of situations.

"Listen, I know we don't always see eye to eye, but if we're going to get out of here, we need to work together. Can you promise me that we'll put our differences aside for now? We need to be ready to face whoever has us, and I don’t want you using me as a human shield if it comes to it.”

You look up from your brooding and softened slightly, noticing for the first time some signs of agitation and fidgeting from you cell-mate, you nodded. “Fine. I'll do what it takes to get out of here safely. We can argue later."

He grins at that, posture relaxing slightly. “Ok then.” 

The two of you sat in silence once again, but this time it was a more peaceful one. You could hear each other's breathing, the rustling of clothes as you shifted your weight, and the occasional creaking of the cell door. It was in this stillness that Anakin spoke up once more.

"You know, I've been thinking," he began.

"Dangerous." You quip, and he rolls his eyes. 

"Fine, don't worry about it."

"No- No, come on please. I'm sorry!" You laugh at him a bit to ease the tension in the room.

"It's just- It's pretty cold in here."

"Yes"

"And it's going to get worse."

Oh. "Oh. Right well... You're right." Before you could think too much of it you stand up and go to sit beside him. Still leaving about a foot of space between you, much to his amusement. 

"I don't bite. Well... I won't" He seems to find this all too funny, patting the space right next to himself rather condescendingly. You had half a mind to go back to where you were before but you shuffle over, huffing again, choosing practicality instead of pettiness. At least you could be the bigger person.

Your shoulders were touching now and as the sky grew ever darker you legs found their way to each other as well. It was unconsciously done, minuscule movements over the hours drawing you together. 

You couldn't help but notice the way Anakin's body seemed to fit so perfectly against yours, as if it was meant to be there.

You could feel the heat emanating from Anakin's body, and it was a welcome relief from the cold stone walls. As fatigue won you over your head sunk with heaviness, ever closer to his shoulder. Until eventually the two of you were asleep, tangled together in the corner of the cell. 

And that's exactly how Obi Wan found you in the small hours of the morning…

[justanotherdinboshipper]

Analysis: Dinbo Parallels between “The Heiress” and “Guns For Hire” also featuring "The Sanctuary"

This analysis marks my initial contribution to the Dinbo fandom, as I simply couldn’t contain my brainrots any longer. Below, I’ve outlined the intriguing parallels I’ve observed between these two episodes, both directed by Bryce Dallas Howard.

(I hope you like reading cause this is a long one but I hope my fellow Dinbo shippers would enjoy this brainrot)

Frog Lady and the Couple from Plazir

In a captivating discussion by @noorhal on this youtube video focusing on Dinbo, parallels between Bo-Katan and the Frog Lady were explored. Both characters share a similarity: they are the last of their family lineages. Bo-Katan herself highlights this fact during her introduction to Din.

In Trask, significant meetings unfold for both the Frog Lady and Bo-Katan. Just as the Frog Lady encounters her husband, laying the foundation for her family’s continuation, Bo-Katan crosses paths with Din. It’s not just the Frog Lady who found her significant other on that fateful day at Trask.

Howard employs another couple in “Guns For Hire” to echo the dynamic between Din and Bo: The Duchess and Captain Bombardier. This married pair rules over a domed city akin to Mandalore, with the Duchess representing royalty while her husband does not share her status. Exactly like Din and Bo; she’s Mandalorian Royalty while he is a Foundling.

And what’s interesting is that, both of these couples-the Frog Lady and Her Husband and the Duchess and her Husband, both looked after Grogu as both Din and Bo went on a mission together. Coincidence? I think not.

The Quarren and Mon Calamari

Another compelling parallel between “The Heiress” and “Guns For Hire” lies in the presence of Quarren and Mon Calamari characters in both episodes. Interestingly, these characters also reflect the evolving dynamic between Din and Bo.

In “The Heiress,” these two species are depicted as siblings. When Bo comes to Din’s rescue aboard the ship and Din pleads for Grogu’s safety, Bo’s reassurance—“Don’t worry, brother, we’ve got this”—underscores their Mandalorian kinship. Their relationship is rooted in camaraderie and mutual respect, devoid of romantic undertones.

However, in “Guns For Hire,” the Quarren and Mon Calamari are portrayed differently; they are not siblings but lovers facing an impending separation. This shift suggests that their relationship has evolved since their initial appearance in “The Heiress.” From the Mandalorian brotherhood dynamic, their bond has transformed into a romantic connection, albeit one that will be constrained by external circumstances.

The Darksaber

The closing moments of the “Guns for Hire” episode resonate with a subtle yet significant exchange between Din and Bo-Katan involving the Darksaber. As Din offers her the legendary weapon, there’s a palpable tension in the air, underscored by the deliberate slowness of their movements. Bo’s slow acceptance of the Darksaber from Din’s outstretched hands, coupled with his nod of acknowledgment, speaks volumes about the unspoken understanding and chemistry between them.

It’s noteworthy how Din, despite his reluctance to possess the Darksaber, diligently safeguards it, like the shifter ball cherished by Grogu, hoping one day to return both of them to their respective owners. He understands the significance of the saber to Bo-Katan. When Paz attempted to claim the Darksaber, Din fiercely defended it.

In “The Heiress,” Din initially shows little interest in Bo-Katan’s quest to reclaim the Darksaber from Moff Gideon. Despite her plea for his assistance, Din remains focused on his own priorities. However, in the closing moments of “Guns for Hire,” Din returns the Darksaber to Bo, fulfilling her long-standing desire and Din playing a huge part in achieving it.

Banter and Eyes

In “The Heiress,” Bo-Katan’s gaze holds a certain intensity when she looks at Din, hinting at intrigue or perhaps even attraction. Despite Din’s affiliation with a sect that she despises, Bo persists in urging him to join their mission to reclaim Mandalore. Her unwavering desire for his involvement suggests a level of fondness or admiration, even before witnessing his combat prowess firsthand.

The banter between Din and Bo-Katan in “The Heiress” crackles with tension, particularly when Bo changes the terms of their agreement. Her mocking delivery of “This is the way” leaves Din momentarily speechless.

In “Guns for Hire,” Bo’s demeanor towards Din retains a hint of the attraction evident in “The Heiress,” albeit with a softer, more tender undertone. Their banter remains, but it’s devoid of the sly mockery present in their earlier encounter.

Regrettably, the episode doesn’t afford us a glimpse into Din’s point of view, leaving us to wonder about his feelings towards Bo. However, the subtle shifts in their dynamic—from playful banter to a more sincere exchanges—suggest a growing connection that transcends mere partnership.

Flashbacks to Being Saved as a Kid

In “The Heiress,” a visual parallel unfolds as Bo rescues Din, their hands interlocking in a gesture reminiscent of a pivotal moment from Din’s childhood. This evocative imagery reinforces the idea of Bo as a savior figure in Din’s life, echoing the past trauma he endured and the subsequent salvation he found in Mandalorian culture.

Similarly, in “Guns for Hire,” another callback to Din’s childhood trauma is subtly woven into the narrative. Bo’s method of dispatching the battle droid mirrors the manner in which a similar droid was neutralized during Din’s rescue as a child.

The scene where Bo assists Din, helping him to his feet, further reinforces their connection. As their hands interlock once more, the camera lingers on the gesture.

The Sanctuary

Now let’s weave the themes of these two episodes to another episode directed by Howard in Season 1-Episode 4, “The Sanctuary”

In that episode, we encounter Omera, a potential love interest for Din. Interestingly, parallels emerge between this episode and “The Heiress.” In both instances, Din is presented with an invitation to stay or join a community, but his responses reveal nuanced differences in his character development.

With Omera, Din’s refusal to stay is resolute, rooted in his belief that he doesn’t belong. However, the episode hints at his underlying desire for connection and love, albeit conflicted by his adherence to the Mandalorian Creed and the dangers of his chosen profession or way of living.

In contrast, Bo’s offer in “The Heiress” carries a different weight. While Din doesn’t immediately accept, his response isn’t a flat rejection either. He acknowledges his current obligations with the Child but leaves the door open for the possibility of joining Bo in her cause in the future. Bo’s willingness to wait for him underscores her respect for his choices and her understanding of his priorities.

This theme of commitment and prioritization continues in subsequent episodes in Season 3. In “The Mines of Mandalore,” Din reiterates his need to fulfill his obligations before going with Bo. “I cannot go with you until I fulfill my obligation.” I don’t think that’s just a reply to Bo’s offer to take him back to his ship in Kalevala. It’s hinting at something more.

By the time “Guns for Hire” rolls around, Din’s presence alongside Bo on their mission to find her fleet speaks volumes. Without explicit confirmation, it’s evident that he has accepted her offer, joining her in her plans to reclaim Mandalore.

The Evolution of Din Djarin’s Priorities and Commitments

Throughout “The Sanctuary,” “The Heiress,” and “Guns for Hire,” Bryce Dallas Howard skillfully illustrates a theme: the evolution of Din Djarin’s priorities and commitments. In Season 1’s “The Sanctuary,” Din’s paramount concern is ensuring the safety of the Child while remaining true to his creed and his job as a bounty hunter. Despite hints of his yearning for love and family, these desires remain secondary to his duties.

As the narrative progresses into “The Heiress” in Season 2, Din’s focus shifts towards reuniting the Child with its own kind, while maintaining his dedication to his creed and his newfound duty as the Child’s guardian. Though the bond between them deepens, Din remains hesitant to fully embrace the idea of the Child becoming his family.

However, “Guns for Hire” marks a significant turning point. Despite the absence of a clear transition scene between The Pirate and this episode, Din’s unwavering support for Bo-Katan’s mission to find her fleet speaks volumes about his evolving priorities. While he was not explicitly tasked with this mission, his decision to accompany Bo demonstrates that her cause has become his own, and his commitment to her is unwavering.

Whether Bo asked for his assistance or he offered it willingly, the underlying truth remains unchanged: Din’s loyalty lies with Bo, and her priorities have become his own. This subtle yet profound shift in allegiance underscores the depth of their bond and Din’s willingness to prioritize their shared goals above all else.

In “Guns for Hire,” subtle yet significant cues suggest a potential shift in Din Djarin’s openness to romance. Through his ongoing training of Grogu and his growing acceptance of the concept of family, Din demonstrates a newfound willingness to embrace deeper connections. The thematic elements of love are reinforced by the planet’s name, “Pleasure,” and the presence of two couples intertwined with the narrative. Additionally, the reminder from the droid that “life is short” displays the fleeting nature of time and the importance of seizing opportunities for connection and companionship. These subtle hints, woven seamlessly into the episode’s fabric, suggest that Din may now be more receptive to exploring romantic possibilities in his life. Beyond mere fan speculation, this narrative development reflects the skillful storytelling of Bryce Dallas Howard and the talented writers behind these three episodes, they are geniuses.

[witch-and-her-witcher]

eluzriel | E | essentially pwp but there's some espionage and getting together

There are secrets Elain's lovers have been keeping from the rest of the Night Court, but some truths Elain simply didn't disclose that come to light during her first intercontinental spy mission to Rask - such as reaching a decision about maintaining casual relationships separately, or perhaps committing to something bigger.

When both Azriel and Lucien are sent after Elain to ensure her safety, everything comes out in the open.

ao3 | chapters 1-3/16

For @polyacotarweek Day Three: Secrets. Thank you @popjunkie42 and @climbthemountain2020 for betaing!!! <3

preview under cut

“Good day, High Lady — gods, Feyre! You could have warned me!”

The High Lady of the Night Court rolls her eyes and doesn’t even falter in her ministrations. As if Lucien is the one being dramatic that he has just walked in on her naked from the waist up aside from a loose binding around her breasts — and more tape being wound around a gushing wound in her abdomen.

“Are you alright? Do you need a healer?” The heels of Lucien’s riding boots clip against the lovely, polished hardwood flooring as his training as a soldier kicks in and he crosses the distance between them.

Feyre waves him off. “The Dawn healing in my blood will take care of it, right now I just need to keep from staining the rug — or, well, anymore rugs …”

No one could snub their nose at Feyre’s taste in ornamental rugs or interior decorating in general, but her refined, expensive palette did come at the cost of fabrics too delicate to magically clean. Even if she had taken to hunting down treasures in thrift shops about the Courts, her furnishings were worth a small kingdom on their own.

An impracticality considering the warriors that tromp through the High Lady’s home regularly, herself counted in that number. Or the prince who seems as great a menace as his mother. 

But Lucien appreciates her dedication to maintaining a beautiful, stylish home.

He frowns now, glancing around as if he may find some hidden threat. His hand goes to the hilt of the saber tied at his belt. “What happened? Did you call me in to handle whoever did this to you?”

Feyre bursts out with laughter.

Rude.

“No offense, emissary, but if I required someone to handle a foe for me, I don’t think I would need to call you out from your townhome to do so.” Her freckle dusted shoulders shake, beautiful and so uncommon for a fae. Glamouring replicas have become a fashion trend since the former human High Lady has come into herself, has come to be recognized for more than just that mud splattered Savior. “Besides, this was the doing of my son.”

“Nyx did this to you?” Lucien’s brows shoot to his hairline. 

He decides to let her insult against his prowess as a fighter pass when her eyes are sparkling like a mountain fed stream.

Gods, she’s really grown over the last decade into her strength, her beauty, her regality. It’s impressive as hell. Never would Lucien have thought the scamp Tamlin had brought into his manor would blossom into this.

“Cassian did warn me to wear a vest if we were going to the mat.” Her mouth spreads into a vicious smile. “Once he’s sparring, he can get carried away, and he’s adopted some innovative fighting techniques to surprise his uncles. It’s so deeply embedded in them that wings aren’t to be touched or to touch with, Nyx likes to jab a talon to gain the upper hand.”

“Smart use of his stature,” he observes. 

Feyre beams with pride.

A knot tightens in Lucien’s throat. His metal eye whirs.

That parental happiness. It shouldn’t be so painful to see, but …

He pulls himself from the temptation of that particular downward spiral because Feyre is still trying to apply enough pressure to get the tape to stop the bleeding in her side. He brushes her fingers away and takes over. Feyre doesn’t fight it, knowing his angle will make the wrapping more effective.

“Alright, you didn’t summon me to put your son in his place and likely not for my wound dressing either.” Lucien glances up to her face beneath the curtain of his hair that has fallen over his shoulder while he bends to finish tying the wrap. “What can I do for you, Feyre?”

“I thought seeing me half naked would be a fun memory to reminisce over?” 

He presses a little harder than necessary on the wound. Feyre hisses.

“Okay, alright, not enough time has passed to joke about that. In truth, I have a favor to ask of you.”

Lucien whistles low while stepping back to appreciate his handy work. The bleed has stopped seeping through the white cloth.

“A favor? This should be interesting.”

Feyre lifts her top from the desk she’s had it resting on. She pulls it over her shoulders and begins buttoning it, pointedly not making eye contact with Lucien. A very interesting favor then, if it is enough to make the High Lady feel guilt.

“I need you to go to Rask and retrieve a special package… Your mate.”

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[squidthoughts]

just going to point out we have two confirmed(!) scenes so far where shin and sabine cross sabers. one longhair!sabine and one mulanchop!sabine. we obviously don’t know the haircut timeline™️ but the trailer seems to indicate a not unsubstantial period of time between styles…therefore i propose long-term enemies to lovers where the tension ratchets up with each encounter as their skills improve over time. plenty of homoerotic obsession (violence) (hatred) (rivalry) to indulge in between bouts. dreaming about your narrative foil. dreaming about killing your narrative foil. dreaming about girlkissing your narrative foil on the mouth here’s how wolfwren can still win

[weixuldo]

Adjustment// Anakin x Reader

Based on this ask by @tommyshawawesome1976

(A/N: Sorry it was such a long wait, but here it is!!! In this the reader is taking the place of Padme and this is in between the end of AOTC and TCW)

Anakin has a hard time getting used to his new arm, but you’re there to help him. 

Warnings: loss of limbs, injury recovery, phantom pains, swearing, cannon typical violence

________________________________________

The moon was hidden behind a cover of thick rain clouds. You and your newly wed husband laid soundly asleep between the silk sheets of your bed on Coruscant.

Wonderful dreams of rolling fields and your lover beside you ran through your head. You were contempt when you felt a jostle from the other side of the bed. You woke and turned quickly to see a startled Anakin panting. 

He was sitting up with a fearful look in his eyes, a thin sheen of sweat covered his torso and face. You gently called his name but he didn’t respond so you slowly reached to touch his shoulder. He whipped towards you in a defensive movement until he noticed it was you.

“Y/N?” he panted.

You nodded and pulled him into a hug, “Shh, it’s me, my love”.

He melted into your touch and sighed into your chest, “i-it hurts”.

“Is it your arm or is it the phantom pain?” you asked him as you ran your fingers through his curly hair. 

“Phantom. It won’t go away, I can't stop it” he groaned as he grabbed at the metal appendage dawning his right forearm.

You tightened your arms around him and held him close, “It’s all going to be ok, Ani. It’s in your head”. 

“it’s so painful” he winced.

You looked out the window to see the rainfall, “it’s probably the rain, Ani. You know your arm acts up in this weather”.

He screwed his eyes shut and cried as you rocked him. 

The next morning he didn’t speak of the events of the night, rather he ignored them. You knew he had been upset since his injury but you also knew he needed to talk about it. Whatever this was, was not healthy.

He was perched on a bench looking over the busy traffic of Coruscant as you walked up to him. His hair was starting to grow out and his old padawan braid was slowly unraveling, he looked quite nice. You placed a tender hand on his shoulder and planted a kiss on his temple. 

“Good morning, my love” he greeted you.

“Morning Ani” you answered, taking your seat next to him. 

You reached to grab his prosthetic hand but he flinched away. You furrowed your brow and attempted to grab his hand again.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” he asked, perplexed.

“I wanted to hold your hand’

“You can hold this one” he said, crossing his good hand over to meet yours.

“Why can I not hold that one?” 

“Because it’s not real!” he snapped.

He observed your worried expression and reigned himself in, “..It’s not me”.

You ignored his good hand and held the mechanical appendage tightly with both of your hands, “Yes it is Anakin, this is you”.

He cast his gaze downward, embarrassed.

“I’m weak. I failed, and now I can’t even wield my lightsaber properly”

You placed gentle hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes,

“oh Ani, this prosthetic changes nothing about you, You will fight again, it will just be…modified”. 

He released a breath and went to caress your cheek but halted once he saw he was reaching with his prosthetic. You noticed and drew the hand to your cheek, “I love you Anakin”.

__________________________________________

The practice droid’s stun beams ricochet off of the walls of the training room as Anakin maneuvered around them. He was working on defense and avoiding hits.

His wielding style had shifted, he wasn’t as accustomed to his new addition yet, so his swings were less accurate than before. His master watched through the viewing window as his padawan struggled to gain the upper hand.

Anakin swung his saber, deflecting two shots but missed the third. He doubled over in pain as the shock of the blast hit his side. The droids were paused and Obi-wan entered the room. Anakin was still hunched over on his side muttering curses. 

“Anakin, you mustn't focus on recreating your former style, you need to adjust” Obi-wan spoke as he helped his padawan to his feet.

Anakin grunted as he stood straight, “I am trying, master. I just… It's difficult”.

Obi-wan nodded, “No one said it would be easy Anakin.”

Anakin huffed and reignited his lightsaber, “Again”.

Obi-wan’s face slowly turned to a smile, his padawan was not a quitter.

“As you wish”.

And with the push of a button the droids started up again.

___________________________________

It was getting late and Anakin still wasn’t back. You knew he was training with Obi-wan today but you had passed Obi-wan on your way home. You set the table and tried to take your mind off of things. He’d be home soon…

After a few more hours you grabbed a cloak from your closet and set out to find your husband. You decided to check the jedi temple first, he would often spend time there into the late hours of the night, though you doubted he would be thinking after a long day of training.

He was definitely an overachiever so training days usually ended with him coming home, taking a shower, eating dinner, then falling asleep in your arms. You worried he pushed himself too hard.

You made sure to hide your face as you wandered through the temple, you definitely were not supposed to be in there and you were definitely not supposed to be married to Anakin. 

After searching around you heard noise coming from a training room.

There he was.

He was drenched in sweat, the outer layers of his jedi robes discarded on the floor. He staggered around the room and his swings were uncoordinated. Your eyes widened as you realized there was no one in the control room to operate the droids. 

You quickly ran to the panel and began to search for the power button. Before you could push it you saw Anakin get blasted with a beam and crumple to the floor with a pained wince. You smashed the button and the droids immediately powered off.

You picked up the trail of your robes and ran into the room. It was mostly dark except for an overhead spotlight in the middle of the room. You kneeled down and scooped your husband into your arms. 

“Anakin what are you doing!?” you frantically asked.

His blue eyes blinked open and granted you a confused look as he panted, “Y/N?”

“Yes, I was worried about you, you never came home”

He began to sit up but stopped as he winced. You placed a hand on his back and helped him the rest of the way.

“I was just training,” he responded.

“Anakin, it's 3 in the morning! You said you’d be home around 10’.

He squinted at the clock across the room, “Is it really?”.

You nodded and brushed his damp hair from his forehead, “What were you thinking?”.

“I wasn't good enough, I just needed to practice more”

“Practice is good, but you're exhausted Ani, you're just hurting yourself at this point” you dabbed at his sweaty face with the end of your cloak.

He sighed and leaned into your chest, “I need to get back to how I was. If I don’t….i’m worthless”.

Your heart broke at his words, you pulled him into a tender embrace, “Oh, Ani, Don’t think that way, You aren’t, maker, you could never be worthless”.

The two of you stayed there for a moment before he began to drift off to sleep. You tried to wake him, the two of you could not be found like this in the temple.

But he was deep in sleep and you couldn’t move him alone. Begrudgingly you sent a contact to Obi-wan…he was the only one you could trust with your secret.

Not soon after an annoyed jedi stormed through the practice room doors. Obi-wan stood in front of you two with his hands on his hips. His eyes softened as he saw how exhausted Anakin was. 

“What was he thinking?” Obi-wan sighed. “I thought he went home”.

You shook your head, “I’m really sorry Obi-wan, But I didn’t know who else to call, because-”

He held out a hand, “I understand Y/N. It’s ok. I’m more concerned with his state right now, maker knows how long he had been at it after I left”.

You nodded and allowed Obi-wan to help you up from the floor. The older man grunted as he swung the sleeping Anakin over his shoulder. “Let’s get this reckless boy home, shall we?”. 

______________________________________

The next morning came quickly and Anakin woke with an intense pain in his arm. He shot up as he grimaced, you were quick to enter the bedroom once you heard he was up. 

“Anakin, what’s wrong?”

“My arm….It feels like it's on fire”

You sighed and brought him some tea, “Here darling, drink this. It should help with the pain.”

He nodded and quickly sipped the beverage.

“Anakin, You can’t train without someone to spot you again, alright?” you scolded.

“I was fine” he retorted, blushing because he had been caught.

“Well your limp body on the floor said otherwise” Obi-wan's voice said as he rounded the corner into your shared room.

“Master?!” Anakin exclaimed. 

“How do you think you got back here last night? Y/N certainly didn’t carry your body all the way back from the temple.”

Anakin turned with embarrassment.

“Anakin, you are a great Padawan and a strong Jedi, but you need to learn how to progress in moderation. Ruining your body will not help you become better. Allow us to help you, that’s what we're here for”.

Anakin stole a glance at you and saw as you nodded along with Obi-wan. He sighed and agreed, “Alright, master. I’m sorry”.

Obi-wan let out a hearty laugh, “Don’t thank me, thank her. If she didn’t call me, you would have been found in the temple and definitely would be in deep trouble with the council”

He turned to you and extended an arm. You took his hand and squeezed it before he drew you in for a quick kiss. 

“Thank you Y/N” he smiled.

“Always, Ani” 

Obi-wan cleared his throat and the two of you turned to look at him. 

“I’ll be off now, but don’t think that the stunt you pulled last night will be a recurring ordeal Anakin. The two of you could have been caught last night”, the man said before leaving your apartment.

Anakin turned his attention back to you, “I’m sorry my love, I shouldn’t have put us in that position”.

“It’s alright, what matters is that we didn’t get caught and you're ok” you beamed at him.

“I love you so much Y/N” he breathed as he pulled you into his chest. 

You entangled your hand with his robotic one and smiled, “I love you too Anakin”.

***

(A/N: I loved writing this and i hope you enjoyed!! thank you for the ask!! also i really need to get back into writing for cannon!! i def missed it :))

[psychedelic-ink]

kinktober '22 ║ XVIII

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, enemies to lovers

word count: 2k

summary: you have a bounty on your head, din takes the job.

warnings: hate fucking, a lil'bit of man handling, rough sex, feral!din, piv, creampie, dirty talk

MLISTS .  LIBRARY. TAGLIST . KINKTOBER '22

When Din enters the bar, it doesn’t take him long to locate you. Your presence can take a hold of any room, let alone a dirty bar filled with questionable patrons. Din straightens his back, the hilt of the dark saber heavy in his hand, he didn’t want to but knew he had to wield more often if he wanted to control it. You laugh and giggle at one of the men who buys you another drink. 

If someone other than him had gotten a hold of your tracking fob you would’ve been safe in this discreet planet, how very unfortunate for you that you had a high bounty, your crimes exceeding one of normal crooks and thugs and he needs the credit. His heavy steps finally attract the curious glances of the men, and a couple of women, surrounding you. You, being completely unaware or simply just didn’t care, take loud gulps of your free drink. The crowd dissipates, most of them leaving the bar all together. You sigh, your expression almost bored looking as you lift your legs to the table and cross them. 

You eye him, lips twisting into a mischievous smile. Din knows that look well, a common thing supposedly powerful opponents did before he caught them. For the first time he can’t wait for that smug look to turn into fear. 

“You know why I’m here,” he says, modulated voice calm as always. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold,” 

Your gaze rakes across his armor, your comfort unbothered by his threat. The sound of you clicking your jaw reaches his ears, he feels himself getting hotter underneath the beskar. Then suddenly you raise your hands, the glass you held slipping from your fingers and shattering against the wooden floor. 

“So let's say I want you to bring me in cold, what are you going to do big boy? I’m unarmed. Are you going to take that blade and cut me in half?”

Din’s grip tightens around the blade, silence follows.

“That doesn’t sound like it keeps within the Mandalorian creed now, does it?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He wants to break you. Confusion swirls in his mind and sucks him down a deep dark hole, it feels like he’s drowning, his heavy armor making him sink faster. You confuse him. You’re unbothered, so sure of yourself, feelings that escape him in his own life. It aggravates him. Makes him livid. 

Din’s dealt with smug bounties before, but they never managed to get under his skin quite like you did. 

“I’ll bring you in warm then,”

“You’ll have to catch me first,”

“You say that as if that’s going to be hard–” 

It happens as soon as he finishes his sentence. Before he can extend the blade, your feet are off the table and you’re nowhere insight. Only when he feels the ground slipping from underneath him that he notices that you’ve ducked, tripping him by hooking your right foot around his left ankle. As he starts to fall, you get up, the same smug appreciation perpetually etched into your face. His rage builds, hand reaching forward he grabs you by the collar and pulls you down with him. Din feels your face smack against his chest plate and you let out a choked out sound, groaning in pain. You attempt to jump away, hand already covering your nose, but he pushes you back with a solid grip curling around your nape, squeezing in warning as you struggle. 

“For someone so cocky I expected more,” Din states, not being able to help his pettiness. “You might be the easiest bounty I’ve caught so far,” 

“Screw you!” 

“I don’t think you’ll be screwing anyone for a long time,” he grins, taking full advantage that his expression is invisible. He takes note of the way your fingers curl around the beskar. “You pissed off a lot of people. I’m impressed honestly, not a lot can steal so much…though maybe it was just sheer luck,” 

Finally you look up to him, chin pressing snug against his chest plate. If looks could kill, he would be dead by now. Lucky him. 

The air between you two crackles with loathing for one another, Din is highly aware of your body's proximity. You look like a caged animal, ready to strike and bite. There’s beauty in your anger, he doesn’t understand why. 

Your brows knit together, a neat snarl forming against your lips. 

“Nothing about what I achieved was due to luck,” you hiss. “I’m just that good,” 

“Or the people you robbed lack proper security,” 

The walk back to the ship is uneventful, which he’s mildly surprised by. Din was positive that he would have to knock you out or something, but he accepts this tranquility with open arms. The door of the Razor Crest closes behind you two and he pushes you further inside, he notices you subtly trying to get off the handcuffs that bind your hands in front of you. He knows that all your attempts will be futile, but hey, if you do end up removing them, kudos to you, he’ll just have to carbon-freeze you instead. 

Din lets you go, allowing your curious filled glances to wander around the ship. You wrinkle your nose as you turn to face him.

“What the hell is this dump?”

He doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Din attempts to head to the cockpit but you block him, arms extended up as if he wasn’t already aware of the cuffs around your wrists. 

“Aren’t you going to take these off?” 

“No,” 

“Asshole,” 

Din, already exasperated, shakes his head. 

“Why would I ever uncuff you? What part of that is even remotely logical?” 

“This just proves that you’re intimidated by me,” 

“Yeah, I’m intimidated by someone who can’t even put on a decent fight. Sure, whatever makes you sleep at night,” 

“If you aren’t then let me go,” 

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” he hisses out a breath. “Luring me into a pissing match isn’t going to make me free you– However I’m starting to understand how you operate,” 

You ignore him, starting to walk around the ship as if you owned the place. Something hot climbs up Din’s spine, it burns his skin and makes him seethe silently. His jaw pulled taut, he watches as you rummage through the clutter. After seconds of you going through everything, he finally decides to leave you, if you attempt anything funny he’ll know anyway. Then he would have the satisfaction of freezing you.

He stands still when you straighten up, a piece of paper in your hand. Din recognizes it instantly, a badly drawn picture made my Grogu when he left him off at school– 

Without a second thought he lashes forward, shoving you up against the wall. A loud thud echoes, and he sees the way you struggle for air. His forearms digs into your neck as he yanks the picture from between your loose fingers and delicately places it back. 

“Don’t touch that,” he growls, pressing his arm further into your windpipe. 

You gasp, a weak attempt to fill your lungs with oxygen, fingers claw at his beskar.

“What the fuck,” you hiss out, eyes tearing up. “Let me go, you’re choking me,” 

Din blinks heavily and finally releases most of the pressure off of your neck, you take in heavy breaths, chest heaving, your gaze flickers to him. He doesn’t know what to make of this moment, whether he should leave without explanation or continue to keep you against the wall. His muscles contradict, still tense and ready for battle. 

“You have a kid?” you ask in a tone that was meant to be soft but comes out accusatory. 

“That’s none of your business,” 

There’s a moment of stillness within the chaos. Din feels as motionless as the wall behind you. His own heart restless in his chest. Din’s body moves on its own, leaning closer. He notices the way your breathing hitches, the way your lips twitch and curl up, the way your pupils dilate. Heat radiates off of you and he doesn’t understand why. 

It all comes to a boiling point, steam suffocating and urging both of you to seek the other out as if it’s the last drop of oxygen. 

Din doesn’t know who initiated it first, but he finds himself buried deep inside you, your fingers spread across the steel wall as you brace yourself against it. He looks down, watching intently as his cock disappears into you again and again, pleasure needling its way into his skin. You’re so wet. A ring of slick glistening at the base of his cock each time he pulls back, a loud moan rips from your throat when he lifts his hand and strikes you.

“You like that?” he groans, fingers digging into your hips. 

“Had– Had better,” you blurt out between pants. “Did you even see a woman naked before?” 

Din sees red. His need to prove you wrong shows in the way he pounds into you, your cries getting louder each time his balls slap against your cunt. He growls at the way you squeeze around him, slick dripping down his length and making a mess of his cock. The pace he sets is hard and fast, his own chest heaving as modulated growns fill the Razor Crest. He lifts his hand again, it cuts through the air and a loud slap echoes. You scream out, his name falling from your lips, you slide down the wall from the force of his thrusts. A form of pride swells inside him and his gloved hand comes up to your neck, fingers forming a necklace. 

“For someone who had better you sure do make a lotta noise,” he rasps, grinding his hips even deeper. “Or are you just that needy for cock, no matter who it is?” 

“S-Shut up,” 

Din ignores you, and squeezes your throat, a silent command for silence. He ruts inside of you, his cock begging to fill you up. 

“You’re so fucking wet, were you already fucked full before I found you?” he hears you gasp in pleasure, he bites his lip instead of your skin. “Or were you just thinking about taking my fat cock from the start? You like it when I take you like this– You’re such a little brat, talking shit the moment we met–” 

He pulls you up, your back now flush against his beskar. He feels your pretty cunt fluttering around him, squeezing him for everything he’s got. Din slips his fingers between your already parted lips, he groans at the way the muffled heat of your tongue swirls around the gloved digits. A fresh wave of arousal flares under his skin, he spills into you without warning, his cock buried deep. He groans, continuing to rut into you. He hears your moans, the way your pussy throbs and gushes around him, he breathes heavily realizing that you’re coming untouched. 

“Good girl,” he groans, thrusting and pushing his cum in deeper. “That’s it, cum just like that,” 

“Fuck you,” you answer, more affectionatly than intended. “Are you still going to collect that bounty money?” 

“No,” 

You scoff and he quickly adds. 

“It’s not because I fucked you,” Din grunts, pulling out. “I’m trying to understand something,” 

“Intriguing,” 

While you’re catching your breath, Din uncuffs you and throws them to the floor. You slowly get up, his cock twitches at the way your legs tremble. You lean against the wall and he steps closer, his length brushing against the apex of your thigh. 

“So what now?” you ask. “Are you going to keep me around…like a pet?” 

“Depends on how you act,” his helmet touches your forehead, your eyes widens, slightly alarmed. “You’re free to go, but I still have your tracking fob. I’ll come after you again and I will catch you.” 

“And if I stay?” 

“You can use your very underwhelming skills to help me out.” 

"You're still an ass, I hope you know that,"

Din shrugs and finally heads for the cockpit.  

kinktober tags: @tusk89 , @amneris21 , @witchisenpai , @pedrito-friskito , @tom-whore-dleston , @lola766 , @batdarkladyvampir , @dindjarinswhore , @dnxgma , @eyelessfaces , @queenofthefaceless , @softtdaisy , @saintlike78 , @timpletance , @xdaddysprincessxx , @stardust-galaxies , @spacecowboyhotch, @queenofthecloudss , @prettyouttherethoughts , @reaperofmen , @partr1dge , @bbyanarchist , @alwaysdjarin , @thevoiceinyourheadx , @absurdthirst , @levi-llama , @damnyoupedro , @stardust-galaxies , @all-the-way-down-here , @welcometostayingawake, @bullet-prooflove , @rainbowcreepie

[qierxing]

Under the Sea

Yan! Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Halloween AU

CW/TW: Reader is noted with both she and they pronouns interchangeably due to their fluid state of being but is still considered G/N overall

“If you choose to lock your heart away, you’ll lose it for certain.”

–

Dead men tell no tales, they said.

Sailing would be easy, they said. 

Did they think about the repercussions of unforetold supernatural problems?

The rancid smell of seaweed and brine makes your nose scrunch as you’re hauled up and thrown roughly onto your knees, shredding even more of your nice clothing. You doubt the cold hands cared though. After all, what is one puny mortal against a whole ship full of undead pirates?

“This one ‘ere’s seems to be the ca’pn, sir.” A guttural growl echoes above you, and murmurs of more crewmates surround you. 

It was a good run, you thought to yourself. You fought till the end, until your daggers and saber were knocked out of your hands, your skin slashed and bruised, and till they had to pin you down from causing more trouble. It was more than what you could say for your own crewmates, the traitorous, cowardly scum, leaving you immediately and trying to flee with their own lives. Didn’t matter though, because they were all immediately slaughtered without mercy. You’d have more pity for them dying in their own pools of blood if they didn’t abandon you first.

A barnacle covered boot tips your chin up, and you’re face to face with a smug man, piercing green eyes, dark hair like coal tied in dreads and braids, tall and lithe figure to boot. The captain of this crew, no doubt.

“You. Herbivore. What’s yer name?”

People back home called you many names. The looney merchant. A superstitious fanatic. Raving madman on the better days. Today, you can now safely say they’re all fitting.

“...[First]. [First] [Last].” You cough up, after the boot digs into the crook of your chin and head, causing an unbearable pressure on your throat. The pressure removes itself and you’re left choking for air while the man hums in thought.

“Well, ca’pn Leona?” The voice behind you asks. A scrawny, weasley sounding voice. Must be the one who binded you. “Dunno why you kept this one alive.”

You could practically hear the grin in the next words. 

“‘Cuz they got some worth to ‘em right now.”

–

“Have ye heard about the myth of Calypso?”

The name sets you on edge immediately. A pirate asking after the revered primordial sea goddess? That can only mean…

“Who hasn’t?” You shrug your shoulders flippantly. “Every child in a coastal town has heard about how she controls the seas and watches over sailors.”

An annoyed growl is your response. It seems your hunch was correct. “Not that, idiot. I meant about her curse.”

Aha.

“Curse?”

The captain gnashes his canines impatiently. “The one where she curses her lover for leaving her.”

“Ah, that. Yes, I’m acquainted.” You decide to stop teasing him and see where this leads. 

“I need ta find her ring.” Silence reigns. You furrow your brows and cross your arms.

“You mean, the one that so happens to be dropped into the ocean, never to be seen again? The one where Calypso, herself, has been rumored to destroy? That ring?”

“Yes, that damn ring!” The ghost snarls, banging his fist on the desk, causing documents and books to fall off. “I need to find that ring so I can finally–!”

“That ring has been gone for more than a millenia. Scratch that, it’s not even proven to ever have existed.” You interrupt, uncrossing your arms, leaning brazenly on the rickety oak desk. “And yet, you’re wanting to stake your undead life on this trinket?”

A knife is driven a finger’s width away from your hand. You don’t blink as the captain’s face becomes inches away from your own. “What does a mortal know about being undead?! What do ye know of–” He cuts himself off, a pained look clouding his eyes. You only observe as he breathes in deeply.

“Alright. I’ll help you find it.” His head whips up in surprise. “On several conditions.”

He smirks. “Negotiatin’? You’ve got guts. Name ‘em.”

“One, that you promise not to kill or harm me at any point, especially after our deal is over. Second, once this is all over, you’ll return me back to land. Third and finally, you return my belongings back from your loot.”

The captain mulls over your words, deep in thought. Beads of sweat run down your back. It was a daring bluff, but if you were kept alive this long, it had to be for something!

He runs his hand down his face, groaning. “You drive a steep price. Fine. It’s a deal.”

A crack of an incoming thunderstorm echoes as you both shake hands.

–

You were many things. You were once a privateer. A bartender. Even a librarian at some point, shelving books for hours till the daylight blended to blue darkness.

But never, in your entire life, have you been made to scrub deck floorboards.

The sun beating down upon your aching figure feels like salt on top of many wounds. The biting smell of lye only makes your head spin and fingers burn. 

Worth? Was your worth really amounting to just being a ship’s hands?!

Unbelievable. You end up slipping and nearly falling on your face into the bubbly mess. Left alive, but only to be doing dirty work for ghost pirates. If only the people back home could see you now…

“Shihehehe! Nice work, newbie. Cap’n Leona wants ta see you now, by the way.” The weasley voice! You look up to see squinty gray eyes and sharp teeth, all in a narrow face. There’s something unnerving about the way the ghost leans over you with his smirk, as if he’s a beast ready to devour its prey.

Shaking away the bubbles and your shame, you silently march right past him and into a sturdy chest.

“Oi, watch where ya goin’!” An angry rumble shakes you back to view the familiar face with silver hair and golden eyes that pushed you down back then. You stand your ground as the both of you stare each other down.

“My bad.” The man grunts as you push past him. “What’s their problem?” is the last thing you hear before you’re out of earshot.

You’re in a foul mood by the time you see Leona’s mug, and it seems he is too.

“What’s the hold up on finding the ring?!” He growls. His clothes are a mess more than usual, hair rumpled, and even his desk is near inhabitable. 

You huff. “If I wasn’t bogged down on ship chores perhaps I can work more on that map to get you there, Captain.”

“We’re short on manpower, if ye can’t tell. Also I can’t have ye havin’ enough time to go schemin’ behind me back.” You roll your eyes, walking up to his desk and yanking out a long parchment, causing a rather cute yelp from Leona.

“Hey–!” You unravel the aged parchment, scanning over the red lines and dots that circle the map.

“Wow, you’ve made no progress at all. Do you really wanna find this ring?” The parchment is snatched out of your hands as Leona angrily snarls. 

“Shut yer trap! I’m workin’ on it.” You heave a long sigh, walking over to his desk and starting to arrange the scattered papers and books. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” 

“What does it look like? I’m helping organize your space. Since you’re ‘working’ on it, nothing wrong with making your environment better, no?”

He only grumbles in response, but a strangely comfortable silence falls as you both do your tasks, seemingly in tandem. The sound of the quill scribbling is rather nice on the ears as you put back books and sort papers into neat piles. It’s only when you’ve finally refilled his inkwell that you lean over his shoulder and take a look and whistle.

“Nice work, Captain! Now we’re getting somewhere!” You clapped him cheerily on the back without much thought, making him scoff.

“This much is nothin’, herbivore.” If you looked closer, you would’ve seen how he leant into your palm, eyes softening as his voice resembled one of looking at a lover.

–

The night sky has always been beautiful.

And as the stars twinkle above, you can hear the pirates singing their drinking songs, raucous and loud, but with whatever soul they have left in their rattling ribs. 

Your drinks were pretty popular, once they found out you could make the most killer mixes out of whatever they had in stock. Ruggie, the silver eyed weasley pirate, became your instant friend as he handed out your brews to other eager crewmates.

“Shihehehe! Think of all the profit we could make outta this! Yo, Jack, come get some of this!” The younger man staggers under the weight of his drunk senior throwing himself onto him, grunting as he looks panicked.

When you break away for some peace, you find that your intended spot was already taken.

“Come ‘ere.” You blink, half turned in resignation at finding another stargazing spot. 

“Are ya deaf? Come ‘ere.” Well, it’s not like you can turn down a command. You settle yourself down next to the lazing captain, looking up wistfully.

It’s a perfect clear sky. You wish you had your telescope with you. From here, you can see a bit of the Crux and then bits of the Centauri–

“We’re close to the ring, aren’t we?” You turn your head to observe a still Leona.

“Yes.”

A long pause.

“Why did ye agree to help me? I didn’ even hafta threaten ye all that much.”

You hum, eyes still fixated on the stars. “I could ask ya the same question of why you spared me, Captain.”

Another agonizing beat.

“I thought ya were a fool.” He shifts, shoulders popping and cracking. “All yer crewmates had the sense to run but ye just stood ya ground like ye weren’t up against the famous dread pirate Davy Jones.

I guess I can admire that kind of stupidity, ya know?” 

You remain silent, throat closing in on itself. Silence returns, but you can no longer admire the stars before.

–

The shrine is ruined, as you expected. All that remains is a half buried altar in sand and broken shells and rocks around it. 

“What the hell is this?”

“It is what you’re searching for.”

For someone to have been searching for this ring so desperately, he looks furious, enraged even. He clenches his hand around the silver tightly, hands trembling. Perhaps you should’ve been more sensitive than just plopping the trinket into his hands.

“How do I know yer not just trickin’ me with a fake?!” He roars, the cave around you echoing. Water drips from stalactites, plopping down into puddles surrounding your area. 

You gesture towards the shrine carelessly. “Give it a try. It’s what you’ve been wanting all this time right?”

Leona’s eyes widened. “What do you–” “You wanted to be free, didn’t you?” You tilt your head, annoyed. “Well, this is it. Once you do the ritual with that ring and return it to Calypso, you’ll be free of your curse. Your love.”

“No.”

Your mouth purses at the ghost’s retort.

“I want to return to her.” 

Something in you snaps.

“You left me.” It is not you speaking, but the sea. It wails and groans as the wind howls. “You do not get to choose to come back to me, not now.”

Water rises with your temper as Leona begins to comprehend what is going on. The stalactites tremble, ready to collapse under the pressure the water pounds upon the rocks. You slowly reach out your hand.

“Give me back my ring.” Your eyes glow, your mortal veil falling away like sand. This is your domain, where he left you to rot and cry out for him for many nights, until you could only pick your trembling bones up and out into the world. Stripped of your emotions, left to rage and scream at the sky, as you walked along the seafloor. For many moons, you wondered if you could ever live without him. As year by year passed, you wandered dry land to forget the aching pain in your heart.

You will make him regret ever wronging you.

“No.” Leona steps forward against the sloshing tides, now up to his knees. He bares his fangs.

“I won’t.”

“What are you doing–!? Give me–” You howl in rage as your outstretched arm is snatched and you’re wrenched into his arms, writhing in anger.

“I won’t let you go, ever again.” He whispers in your ear, and the last thing you register is the feeling of metal on your ring finger.

—

“It seems like the ship was ransacked by pirates.” The old man sighs, leaning back in his rocking chair. 

“Really?” The child at his feet frowns. “But that nice sailor told me all sorts of cool stories…”

The old man shakes his head in disapproval. “Loads of tosh. That superstitious lunatic would only fill your head with stuff of fairytales. Forget it.”

The child looks out their window into the horizon, the sunset leaving shadows on the waves crashing onto the shore. He blinks, and for a moment, he swears he sees the silhouette of a large ship in the distance.

He rubs his eyes, and when he opens them again, it’s gone.

“How strange…”

He could've sworn the flag was a skull crossbones.

[scottysketches]

wip wednesday

A little snippet of something I'm working on. I can't quite decide whether it'll be in ch4 or ch5 of Don't Dream It's Over, but it will be one of those two, no later. Hopefully, now that I've blocked out what I want to have happen in the remaining chapters I'll be able to get back into the swing of actually - you know - writing it.

-----

As their training sessions progress it becomes clear to Obi-Wan that Korkie’s reflexes, though deceptively quick for a young man with no prior combat experience or training, are far from what they should be for a being sensitive to the Force. Korkie attributes it to the dance lessons he partook in while a student at Sundari’s Royal Academy of Government, and Obi-Wan muses that his son being a dancer makes his willowy frame understandable. But those reflexes need to be faster.

And so he devises a game.

Korkie exhales steadily as he balances on one foot, his eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest and his hands gripping his shoulders. His stamina has vastly improved and with his recovering health and increased weight his muscles are starting to show some signs of healthy definition. Currently, his hair is tied back and away from his face, a tiny ponytail at the back of his head, not too dissimilar to the way Obi-Wan’s hair had looked whilst he had been a padawan. His breeches are slung low on his hips, the black waistband of his undergarments visible and a stark contrast to the sand-coloured trousers he’s wearing.

Obi-Wan makes his way around his son in a wide circle, quietly tossing a small foam ball in the air and catching it in the opposite hand each time. Though she had been wary of allowing Korkie to partake in any form of combat training, Satine watches her lover and their son with keen eyes from the breakfast island. “Repeat after me,” Obi-Wan instructs clearly, and Korkie’s brows furrow slightly as he listens to his father’s words. “There is no emotion, there is peace.”

“There is no emotion,” Korkie calmly repeats, his eyes still closed, “there is peace.”

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.” His son wobbles slightly but regains his balance.

Obi-Wan lets his eyes narrow slightly, continues to move around Korkie, and contemplates his next move. “There is no passion, there is serenity.”

“There is no passion, there is serenity.”

“There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

Korkie echoes the fourth line of the Jedi meditation mantra back to his father. “There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

“There is no death, there is the Force.”

“There is no death,” his son says softly, his furrowed brow relaxing and his Force signature softening, “there is the Force.”

His relaxed manner gives Obi-Wan his opening. Tossing the ball in the air one more time, he grips it tight, winds his arm back and shouts, “Think fast!” as he throws the ball with substantial velocity at his son’s chest.

Korkie yelps as the foam ball makes hard contact with his bare skin, leaving a round pink mark in its place from the impact. He wobbles once more, finally placing his other foot on the ground to right himself and opens his eyes. “Ow! What the hell was that for?!”

Obi-Wan grins, and from behind him he can hear Satine laughing. Summoning the ball back into his hand, he says, “Your reflexes need work. They’re faster than those of someone not as sensitive to the Force as you or I, but you’ve a ways to go until I’ll even consider weapons training with our lightsabers. Until then, we’ll continue using the practice sabers.”

“So your solution to train my reflexes is to brutalise me with a foam ball?” Korkie mutters sarcastically, rolling his head from side to side and working the knots out of his neck, the palm of his hand coming to rest over the spot just under his ribs where the ball had struck him.

[lovelessdagger]

Starlight - Chapter 40: After

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC

Rating: Mature

Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Smut

WARNINGS: None.

Words: 1.4k

Summary:  Tatooine is the galaxy's own personal hell.

A/N: I suppose this can be considered the final chapter, it is in many respects. I've received many asks about the state of Lumina and Din's relationship, while this ending doesn't say much, I do believe it says everything. The epilogue is next, I am still trying to find the words. I hope I don't disappoint.

Masterlist | Starlight Masterlist | AO3 | Prev | Next

Tatooine is the galaxy’s own personal hell. That much is evident. Emotions once indifferent are now set in carbonite stone. Tatooine is nothing but memory and misery; there is no repentance. Tatooine is a barren wasteland gone to the dogs, and the dogs have died.

Crossing over a sand dune, the Mandalorian leaves heavy prints to track. He walks east towards missing binary suns in the dead of night. 

He wonders about dawn and the possibilities of her unknown light. He cannot stand the sight of stars, finding them to only lead to hell.

Or Tatooine.

He makes way towards a defunct cantina in the distance, a lone figure with a backdrop of sky. It’s a small thing, run down, rotten. The doors open with rusted gears, making him slide in sideways when they freeze.

Tables remain unmoved, flooring worse for wear, half stripped. Some seating is tossed about, booths torn. Dust is visible, windows boarded shut.

At the seventh table lays a rifle leaned against the wood and an empty chair. He glances behind to the entrance.

He doesn’t remember it all being so much bigger than him.

---

Tatooine’s horizon is the edge of the universe and Lumina is alone. The wind is chilling, dying blows signal the aftermath of a storm. She tugs her cloak tighter. Humming soft under her breath, her legs dangle off the cantina’s back roof.

She looks down, flicking a half burnt cigarette.

“You can’t die from this height.” A voice from behind.

“I know,” she replies over the wind. She turns her wrist. Soreness remains even after bacta. After the first time, Fennec said she was lucky it only sprained. Lumina still isn’t sure if she agrees.

She looks back at her guest, the Mandalorian tall and not so proud. “Care to join me?”

His steps are heavy, his boots drag along the cemented roof and grating piling of sand. He sits beside her without any real poise, swinging his own cape back.

“I can’t say I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says.

“Boba bought the building and shut it down. Was his first major purchase after gaining control of the territory. Won’t tell me what the plan is, but it seems positive.”

“Positive?”

“There’s a lot you can do in the middle of no where.”

He agrees. “There is… so why are you here?”

She shrugs. “Why are you?”

He gives no answer.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” Din says instead. “Bad for you.”

She takes a purposeful drag. “I want to give you something.” Lumina digs through the satchel on her left, rummaging past her saber hilt, a lightbulb, and a newly etched data pad. In her gloved hand she presents a large shard of emerald glass. “Here.”

“What is it?”

“Flip it over.”

He does just that, his hands cautious in touching hers and the object of question. Heavier than he suspected, Din turns the hoax gem. The front is an encased remnant bedrock chiseled with a distinct Mando’a inscription.

“Is it…”

“Real? Far as I can tell, yeah.” Lumina runs her index finger over the letters. “Do you know what it says?”

Din gives a half nod, not strong enough to be a statement of commitment, but severely lacking in denial. “It’s scripture,” he says eventually. “We learn of tales of the Mand’alors of past. The formation of the Creed, the strength of our planet, our people. This looks like part of the story of the Taung—the original Mandalorians, it was my favorite. They were forced away from their original home on Coruscant and found solace on Mandalore. This section, it tells of how they felt a calling to the world. Something they couldn’t explain.”

“Sounds like the Force,” Lumina says.

“Where did you get this?”

“Jawas,” she answers. “I went to Peli’s to return the ship I took. Total coincidence they were there too.” Her lips press together, she tosses the cigarette butt off the edge. “I wouldn’t have reached out but—well they’re your people, not mine. Mand’alor.”

Din nods again, though overall more sure. “Thank you.”

The issue of the helmet, the reveal, lingers in the air.

She asks, “Have you spoken to your people since—”

“No.”

“I see.”

“I know what they’ll say. I’ll be excommunicated… any credibility I have with the Darksaber will be gone.”

“Then you do want it?”

Din hesitates. “Bo-Katan—” he begins to say.

“Is a threat unrealized. That’s what Fennec says.” 

“What do you think?”

“That you should keep an eye on her. She’s hiding more than she lets on. The Darksaber is in your possession now. In a way, you are king. Be wise.”

“Even with this”—Din waves the glass—“there’s no telling if it’s habitable. And if it is, Mandalore hasn’t had a monarch since before I was a foundling.”

“Then they’ll have no expectations.”

“What if I don’t want this?” Din asks. “I’m hardly a mandalorian anymore. This may not be my path.”

“The Force connected you to that sword for a reason,” Lumina says. “You need to restore your faith.”

He snorts. “In the Force?”

“In yourself.”

After a beat Din says, “So what’s the real reason you called me?”

Lumina could choose to be astounded by his attunement to her, a superficial everlasting trait it seems. But on occasion, in the two weeks passed since their last meeting, his words have grown a habit of circling.

Knowing forever is quite the promise, but Din carries loyalty to his own demise with honor.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she says. She lights another cigarette. “For good.”

His breathing stops, his hand tenses, his posture shifts. Lumina closes her eyes, inhaling deep through the Force. Her mind is too clouded, she wants to act rationally. She wants to be cordial. A diplomat. Express a gratitude for positive relations and nobility. Proclaim allegiance on behalf of Tatooine to all of Mandalore.

Or she could close up. Bid farewell and leave at that.

Neither feels correct.

“I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something out there,” Lumina says. “Something bigger than any of us realize. It’s more than the Empire. The things Gideon was doing to me… there’s a reason. He may have failed, but with my capture he proved his goals were possible. It’s only a matter of time until someone picks up where he left off. And when that comes, I don’t know how we’ll win.”

“You’re scared of another war,” Din says.

Lumina swallows, cringing at the lump in her throat. “Not just another war. Another clone war, only this time they’re all like me. I have to do what I can.”

The Mandalorian removes his helmet under the moonlight, placing it to the side. He takes a smoke from Lumina’s pack, waiting until she lights the drug to speak. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m cashing in a promise I’m owed, so wherever the Force takes me.”

He nods. “Will I ever see you again?”

Her head tips back, she looks into the night. The moons and stars are a fragile crystal setting. Wind blows the line out of view. “You’ll see me everywhere,” then, “I’ll see you too. I think it’s the will of the Force that we’re stuck together.”

She can barely hear his response, were she not herself she wouldn’t hear it at all. But it comes, a soft passing through his lips.

“Good.”

The moons reflect beautifully off Din’s armor, symbolic in a way. Bringing her glimmers of light at the universes edge. A performance of intangible wonder for her eyes only. She leans against his shoulder. He’s warm, despite it all.

His lips press against the top of her head.

“I love you,” Din mumbles into her scalp. Three little words finally said.

She smiles, halfway. “I know.” And then, “I love you too.”

Above their heads a white bird soars across the stars. It calls a song and Lumina looks away at her feet off the edge. A small ebony snake slithers along the roofing.

“Darasuum,” she says. “Right?”

His agreement is repetition. “Darasuum.”

Forever.

For the first time, Lumina thinks Tatooine may not be so bad after all. It isn’t great, few things are, but in the aftermath of apocalypse wastelands can still bloom.

Impossible life has been created before, it can again.

She is proof.

A wave of relief rushes through the planets wind. A renewal, in a way.

Life is separated into two eras.

Before: Living sustained on betrayals and manipulated promises. The Empire, the Sith, the Machine.

After: Her. After there are stars and orchids and auroras. There is rebirth. There is hope.

There is more than the legacy of Anakin Skywalker.

Lumina is sure of it.

This has all happened before. It was inevitable. Nothing has changed.

----

Epilogue: Starlight

----

Taglist: @lexloon​ @jay-bel​ @xsadderdazeforeverx​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny​ @hello-th3r3​

[januaryembrs]

PAST LIVES | Kylo Ren x Ex-Jedi!Reader

Request: For the drabble idea :3c Kylo Ren x Reader were lovers at the Jedi Academy. After The Incident reader believed he had been killed, reader ran away from Luke/the resistance and never knew he became Kylo. Their paths cross again, and he recognizes the reader, but reader does not recognize him until he reveals his face.

description: lost love is sweeter when it's finally found. I've got the strangest feeling, this isn't our first time around

Word Count: 1.5k

Trigger warnings: children nearly dying, choking (violently), gun shots, saber fight, kylo ren

main masterlist

Life had been peaceful for the last five years. Peace and quiet ofcourse came as a package deal with living a life of near solitude on a remote planet, with a tiny community being the only people you spoke to. They knew you as the mysterious stranger that had practically crash landed in their crop field the first day you arrived, but they were kind enough to nurse you back to health and stitch up the scorch mark that now marred your face.

They didn’t ask many questions of where you came from, just reassurance that whatever it was that had done that to you wasn’t wishing the same fate for them, which you swore it wouldn’t. You had surely gone far enough that they couldn’t find you, though the guilt of leaving Luke and the other Jedi at the temple to face Ben’s wrath alone had weighed heavier on your heart than any saber cut or burn ever could. 

You had fled the second you’d seen his eyes; what were once calm waters had looked at you with the fury of a mad man. That was not your Ben. Never your Ben. 

Luke had practically shoved you into a discarded solo jet to get to safety, leaving you no choice but to abandon the only family you had ever known. You were too much of a coward to go back all these years later to see the aftermath of that wretched day.

Life on Sorgen was happy enough. There was only so much excitement to be garnered from Krill farming and you much preferred the livelihood of the trading docks than tending to the tiny, blue creatures in the pools surrounding the village. But you always remained aware, sceptical. Always kept an eye over your shoulder for any first order spies wishing to bring a stop to your slice of peace. 

It was a nice enough life, but it was never the one you’d had planned. You had been destined for greatness once, and greatness never came from krill farming or wasting your days with your tail between your legs. You had wanted a life with him. Oh, Him. 

You spent your day as you did most week beginnings by searching through the newest shipments being brought into the market place from the inner rim planets, mostly smuggled junk that could provide useful for the people in your village. You handed a few credits to the tender, pocketing a new blaster for the woman you neighboured who had complained she was beginning to feel uneasy with the conflict being brought to the outer rim planets between the first order and the resistance. 

Just last week had seen a stand off in the same market place you were now stood in. A merchant accused of housing resistance spies and smuggling them radios to contact home base. But you kept your nose well out of it, knowing you were more valuable to the first order than any damn radio. 

You were picking over a round of blaster bolts when they came. 

Tens of in-sync footsteps met your ears, trunching in unison through the dirt streets, the sound getting closer. 

Then the screaming started.

Your head shot up as blaster fire began ricocheting off the walls further down the small town. A small group of villagers emerged around the corner that the chaos had originated, some holding children tightly to their chests, others making a break for it alone. It was then clear to you the source of the violence.

A troop of first order soldiers rounded the corner, their blasters drawn and loaded, shooting at anyone getting too close to their squadron. The ones at the front began flipping over market stands, rummaging through crates, kicking down doors to canteens and, by the sounds of it, eliminating every possible target inside the buildings too. 

“Where is the resistance spy?” One of them roared through his vocoder at a bystander. She shook her head in freight and hesitance. You felt your chest constrict with something dark when he raised his blaster and shot through her chest mercilessly. 

It was then that your mouth dropped open. There was nothing stopping the first order once they had a lead to follow, you’d heard of entire planets being destroyed for such an offence as harbouring resistance.

You wanted to flee, like you had all those years ago. Turn tail and run far away from any sign of the people that eradicated your family, ruined your life. That took him from you. 

Your feet spun on your heels, ready to make a break for the treeline to hopefully avoid them, when you saw him.

He was dressed head to toe in black, like an omen of death, wearing a mask reminiscent of the one they called Vader. The red saber in his hand only confirmed the worst of your fears, that this figure was not someone to be meddled with, that they must be powerful in the force to be granted the weapon of the Sith. 

The reaper-like figure reached out a single hand, and without much effort lifted two children into the air and cutting off their airways. The young boys choked loudly, grasping desperately at their necks to try and pry the invisible hand away from them as the figure yelled at their mother, demanding information. 

You felt the littlest boy slipping away, felt his life force dimming as his skin began turning purple. No, You thought desperately, your fingers twitching to grab your own saber stashed in your pocket, Please no.

Ren was about to deliver the final blow, his fingers tightening and ready to snap their necks if their hysterical mother didn’t give him the answers he wanted. What he wasn’t prepared for was the recognizable sound of another lightsaber being ignited through the crowd.

His own head whipped to the source, seeing his troops begin shooting at one single target in unison. A few dropped to the ground limp as the shots were deflected back at them, but what really made his mind tick was how four troopers were flung through a stone wall with a small flick of your hand.

An experienced force user, it seemed. 

He shoved his way through his squadron, cutting down his own men who did not move out of his way fast enough. He seemed to have caught a rat in his trap, maybe they even knew where the resistance was. 

The ultramarine hue of the saber reflected off his men’s helmets, and he drew his own weapon in front of him in preparation. 

You dodged every shot they gave you, swinging your saber naturally between your fingers as if the whole thing was a dance. You moved smoother than water, your footwork delicate yet precise as you cut down the troopers and gave the young boys the respite they needed to escape. 

It wasn’t until you felt the darkness in him that the chill ran up your spine, making you whip your head to his figure, just in time to shield yourself from the ignited saber swinging down at you.

Your weapons crackled with pure energy as they met, a dreadful crash of thunder reverberating through the market as the two of you pushed against one another. 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, murderer,”  You hissed, using your free hand to flick the blaster shots away from your vulnerable side.

Kylo Ren froze. It wasn’t until you kicked him square in the stomach and sent him stumbling back he caught a look of your face, one he could never forget even if he tried. 

The scar had healed badly, cutting through the entirety of your left cheek and barely missing your eye. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes he loved, he’d once cherished, that looked at him as if he hung every star in every world in every galaxy, that frowned at him with such disdain and hatred now. 

You. Oh maker it was you.

You advanced on him again, swinging with an anger he had missed, though he’d admit you caught him in his astonishment and he narrowly avoided being cut through himself. 

And so it went; you attacking, him merely defending, as you also used your good hand to defend yourself from his troopers. He wanted to scream at them to stop fighting you, to leave you alone, but Snoke would have his head for being so merciful to an enemy.

“Fight me!” You yelled, swinging harder, moving faster. “You cut down innocent children just fine, but a worthy opponent joins and you waver,”

“Stop,” He pleaded, his chest tight with indifference as to what to do. The fury was clear on your face, curling it up into a grimace that made you a snarling animal. 

“Fight me,” Your voice ordered, though he could tell you were tiring of the chase. 

He saw his chance when your right side was unguarded and he was able to hook the back of your leg and throw you to the floor. 

In the time it had taken for you to jump back to your feet, his hands came up to his helmet, ripping the mask off his defeated face. 

The growl slid off your visage immediately. It was Ben. Your Ben. Your Ben, who you had left amongst the massacre five years ago, who you loved with every fibre of your being, who you were supposed to marry someday, that's what he told you. 

“Ben,” You whispered. He felt the air whoosh out of him, what was he supposed to say to you. You would be so disappointed in the darkness he had followed, the path he had chosen. 

The two of you were so occupied with staring at your past lives that it was no wonder you heard the blaster shot until it was too late, and the heat of the charge cut through your stomach with no remorse, and you fell to your knees.

[ebookporn]

From Friends to Lovers: The Fanfic-to-Romance Pipeline Goes Mainstream

by Elizabeth Held

Ali Hazelwood, a New York Times best-selling author of the romance novels The Love Hypothesis, Love on the Brain, and Love, Theoretically, found her literary agent in January 2020 in an unusual way. Instead of the long process most authors undertake that involves sending out countless letters seeking representation, it was an agent who reached out after reading stories Hazelwood had written on Archive of Our Own, a popular fan-fiction site. Her stories focused on a relationship between the saber-crossed Star Wars duo Kylo Ren and Rey Skywalker, a pairing often abbreviated to Reylo. Once Hazelwood posted that she was considering reworking her fics to publish them, Thao Le from the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency sent a message encouraging her to submit. They’ve worked together since, and today, Hazelwood’s career comes full circle with the publication of From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi, an official collection of Star Wars short stories that includes one by her.

That pathway to representation was an inversion of the one experienced by Lauren Billings and Christina Hobbs almost a decade prior. Back in 2011, the author pair — who publish as Christina Lauren — felt they needed to hide from their agent the fact that they had met while writing Twilight fan fiction. At the time, E.L. James avoided emphasizing that her blockbuster erotic novel, Fifty Shades of Grey, had begun as a Twilight fanfic titled “Masters of the Universe,” which gave Billings and Hobbs the impression that the publishing industry wouldn’t take fan-fiction works as seriously as original content.

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[zeewritez]

What Our Fotune Holds

Next Chapter >

Fandom: Star Wars

Era: Post Clone Wars (Set during Kenobi Series)

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x GN! Reader

Summary: Y/n, a former Jedi youngling, is gifted with a unique ability to tell the future in detail. When they are asked by a fellow survivor of the purge, Nari, to help him find Master Kenobi, they are skeptical but decide to share their vision with him. 

Warnings: Mentions of a corpse, alluding to violence

Cool winds whipped through the air. The weather, scorching by day, was always brisk once the suns had set. The dry air of Tatooine didn’t retain much heat. I pulled my cloak shut as I continued walking through the back allies of town.

 Once I heard the tell-tale drunken laughter of the cantina, I knew I was there. I knocked thrice on the back door like I was told to. There was some shuffeling and soon enough the owner opened the door to let me in. 

 “You’re the person Nari spoke of?” he asked as I entered.

 “I am,” I replied. 

 “Why don’t you show your face?” he said with a soft smile. “You’re safe here.”

 “You can’t unsee me once I show myself,” I told him.

 He nodded and gestured for me to follow him. He took me through a narrow corridor. At the end of it was an attic door, which he pulled down to open. 

 “They’re here,” he called up then looked back at me. “Go ahead.”

 I gave him a quiet thank you as I climbed up the shaky ladder. It squeaked with every step I made.

 The attic was sparse. There was a mattress, a rug, and a light saber scattered along the floor. The only source of light was some small candles in the corner. Nari sat cross-legged in the center of the room, his eyes trained on me as I entered. 

 “So you came this time?” he asked. If his tone hadn’t sounded so hopeful I would’ve taken it as snark. 

 “Yes,” I told him. “The road was clear tonight.”

 ”I see,” he said. “Please,” - he gestured to a cushion in front of him - “have a seat.”

 I did, mirroring him by crossing my legs. 

 “What is it you wish to know?” I asked, removing the scarf that covered my face. I had come to trust him enough to show myself while using my abilities. “The future of a friend? Where an old lover resides? How you will die?” 

 He shook his head. “I need to know where I can find Master Kenobi.”

 I sharply inhaled when I heard that name. I’d never met him personally, but I heard many tales of him through whispered rumors of the Jedi temple. Even in my near isolation, stories found their way through the walls. I’d even caught glances of him through cracked doors and flowing curtains.

 Why? I wondered. Why would he possibly need to find him? The man that raised Darth Vader? I thought, but I didn’t ask. I never asked too many questions when telling someone of the future. It was really none of my business. 

 “Okay,” I agreed and closed my eyes.

 I reached out into the force and called for his name. In the dead of night, I saw him, dressed in tattered robes, making his way through the desert, towards a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I knew that house, I’d been there. I opened my eyes once again.

“He’s going to be at the Skywalker’s house later tonight. A few hours from now. It’s a small moisture farm northeast from here,” I told him. “You should leave soon if you want to make it.”

- 

 I wouldn’t see Nari again until the next day when his corpse hung in the center of town. He had been found by inquisitors and made an example of. Years ago, still a strict follower of the Jedi code, I would not have let it phase me. Yet I no longer followed those rules and was left shocked and horrified by the sight.

 I knew better than to let anyone see my reaction, however, and marched forward through the street. I came out for fruits, and I wouldn’t leave until got some. My Loth-Cat and I had both been peckish that afternoon, and Lu-Lu wasn’t so cute when she was hungry. I made my way to my favorite fruit stand as though Nari’s corpse wasn’t hanging over me as an omen.

 Focused on not making myself seem suspicious, I must’ve been blind to the people around me. I walked straight into a passerby. 

 “Oh, my apologies, sir,” I spoke, lifting my head just enough to make eye contact with him. 

 “All good,” he said with a smile. 

 That accent - he was from Coruscant. His face -- it was the one I’d seen glimpses of years ago as a child. His force signature - a Jedi. 

 It was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Author’s Note: Hey, y’all, I’m back! I watched the first two episodes of Obi-Wan Kenobi yesterday, and I just had to write a story about it. I don’t usually write stories that go along with episodes, but I might for this one. 

[kiruliom]

goth from boyfriends NPTs because I am so normal (some are silly since the series itself is silly)

names: Felix, Mortis, Coffin, Leo, Ace, Max, Prince, Ozzy, Vlad, Umbriel, Lucifer, Azazel, Azrael, Aslan, Saber, Lynx, Salem, Tommy, Kedi

pronouns: goth/goths/gothself, cri/cross/crosself, claw/claws/clawself, edge/edgy/edgyself, dee/dark/darkself, 🖤/🖤s/🖤self, 🐈‍⬛/🐈‍⬛s/🐈‍⬛self, x/xs/xself, ×/×s/×self

titles: the gaymer, the lover of darkness, prn who loves you to death, prns edginess, prn who listens to metal (or goth, emocore or punk), prn who only plays support, the emo streamer, the art student

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

Home, so let’s watch The Mandalorian Chapter 22!

Firstly I know it’s not gonna happen yet but I am CRAVING more Zeb and also Kallus ;-;

And damn it when will Sabine appear? The entire show is literally about Mandalorians; as much as I wanna see Zeb and Kallus, she has the best plot reason to appear

Love that Quarren ship already

OMG more Mando’s!!!

Love the star-crossed marine lovers

THAT FANFARE I AM DYING

Those tubes are amazing

… is that fucking Jack Black???

Grogu looking at that happy couple; is he thinking about the Jedi attachment rules?

Lmaoooo Grogu what the fuck

I love that woman’s star-flower-thingy behind her back

“You had me at ‘battle droids’” iconic omggg

Live action B1 battle droids reappearing I love that

That droid man for some reason gives me Star Trek vibes

Okay Star Trek dude pisses me off

Din using his Ugnaught buddy I love him for that

This season is really giving us good non-humans damn

Crying at the battle droids I love them so much ;-;

A DROID BAR

Where’s Chopper and R2-D2 omgg

Lmaoooo are we gonna go Detroit: Become Human now?

This Star Wars western is looking a lot like a Star Wars CSI lol

Star Wars Episode XX: Return Of The Nanodroids

SEE I KNEW I DIDN’T LIKE STAR TREK GUY

Oh my lord return of the Separatists I’m dying ;-;

Wait why is Grogu made a knight?

Also what is up with Din leaving Grogu with complete strangers?

Bo being a warrior yassssss queen go!

No Bo is not the true leader of Mandalore because it should be Sabine 😤

And she defends Din and the Creed that she scoffed about earlier 🥹

Yeah I’m not convinced by Bo wielding the saber again

Also fuck Axe Woves for completely ignoring foundling culture and discriminating Din, fucking asshole