#skywalker!reader

[starrdream]

Anakin Skywalker x Padme's sister!reader summary: Anakin can't seem to control himself around Padme's younger sister includes: SMUT, praise, small age gap

Despite being Padme's bodyguard for years, Anakin couldn't bring himself to take his eyes away from you.

As if the Jedi code forbidding him from acting on his feelings towards you wasn't enough, the fact that you were Padme's sister and 4 years younger than him was the dealbreaker.

He was already 22 and you were barely 18. It made him feel guilty for thinking about you like that, especially when he was basically following your sister around half the time.

Padme was also very protective over you-always making sure you were okay, never letting you get in trouble, no leaving the house without bodyguards. She really wasn't taking any chances with you, even though she was usually in far more danger than you..

He'd never admit it but it made him so jealous.

He wanted to be the one to care about you like that. He wanted to be the one you'd kiss and hug every time you came to visit, not the one you'd acknowledge once in a blue moon.

It's not like the two of you never talked, you did..occasionally. Quick glances, shared laughter while you were with your sister and a rare smile when passing by.

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted you and your attention completely and utterly to himself. The mere sight of you made his resolve weak.

He didn't know what he liked about you more. Your eyes? Your laugh, smile? The way you carried yourself? How smart you were? Was it the more reckless part of you?

Once, Padme insisted on sending Anakin to ensure your safety while you were out in the city. You claimed you'd 'hanging out with friends'..Poor Anakin had to watch and listen to you flirt with a boy for 2 whole hours.

It was the fact that he was nothing like the young boy that bothered Anakin. He was blonde with shorter hair and looked like he was about your age. Seemed like he wasn't a part of the Jedi order, considering the fact that he was publicly flirting with you..or the fact that he had any time to spare at all. Overall, Anakin and him were polar opposites.

He still wasn't over that even though 3 years passed since that day.

Though, he'd much rather watch you pining over a guy than not see you at all. The truth was, you hadn't come to Coruscant for a while. At least, not when he was there.

Because the war was slowly subsiding, Anakin's missions became longer-helping the galaxy recover from the damage it's people brought upon it.

Lucky for Anakin, Padme insisted you move to Curoscant to live with her. He, of course, had no knowledge of this-he was on a mission when Padme discussed this with you.

So now, not even 3 days after he returned from a mission-he was staring right at you as Padme cooed over you. He froze mid step, breath hitching and heart racing.

Anakin hadn't seen you in, what? 6-7 months, yet you looked so different. More mature, responsible..He wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him but to him, you looked like an actual angel.

You were so much beautiful than he remembered. Or maybe it was because he was starting to forget you which he silently cursed himself for as he walked over.

Anakin’s boots echoed in the hallway as he made his way closer, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t want to face. The light around you seemed to shimmer differently now. There you were, sitting next to Padmé, laughing softly as her sister lovingly fussed over you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

But it was the way you held yourself—like you didn’t need anyone—that got to him the most.

The pull toward you was undeniable, raw. He’d tried to ignore it before. He’d convinced himself that it was just the stress of the war. That it was just the loneliness. But now? Standing here, seeing you like this, he couldn’t deny it anymore

"Anakin." You greeted, your voice warm but with an edge of something more. It made him pause.

"Hello m'lady." He said, his voice sounding a little too hoarse, a little too soft. He tried to force a smile, but it felt like it cracked before it fully formed. "I just got back."

Padmé looked up from you, a smile forming on her lips. "Anakin, it’s good to see you. I wasn’t expecting you up so soon."

"I uh...wasn't really tired last night" He shakes his head, standing behind Padme with his arms crossed.

"Well, let me go find something for us to eat and drink, yeah?" Padme smiled at you expectantly.

"Sure." You chuckle out a sigh.

As soon as she's out the door, you can't help it.

"Ani? My goodness you've grown" You chuckle, leaning your face on the palm of your hand.

"So have you... grown more beautiful, I mean...for a Senator, I mean."

Anakin tries to keep his cool by throwing you a sheepish smile, but in reality-he's mentally facepalming for his nervousness and stupid choice of words.

You chuckle, shaking your head as Padme comes back. She's holding a tray with 3 cups, a teapot and some cookies.

Adapting to seeing you around all the time was agonizing for Anakin. Not a second passes by without Anakin thinking about you. It seems like you are embedded in his soul.

He'll never get used to you smiling and greeting him every time you walked by. Nor eating meals together. Nor catching you staring at him, seemingly zoned out.

It was late, maybe 2 AM. The whole apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of appliances and the occasional ship passing by.

He had spent too many nights like this-sitting on the couch, staring at the view before him, unable to turn off his thoughts. It was getting ridiculous, really. He was a Jedi. He was trained to control his emotions, to let go of attachments.

"What the-" His head snapped towards the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from your room.

An intruder? No—he would’ve felt a disturbance in the Force.

Anakin was on his feet before he could think, instincts kicking in as he rushed toward your door. His heart pounded in his chest as he reached for the handle, only hesitating for a fraction of a second before pushing it open.

"M'lady?!" He called out as soon as the door opened. Anakin stepped into the room just in time to see a shadow slipping toward the window. His jaw clenched.

"Where do you think you’re going?"

You froze.

Slowly, very slowly, you turned around, caught like a thief in the night. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted, as if you were scrambling for an excuse.

Anakin crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an unimpressed look. "Well?"

You exhaled through your nose, muttering something under your breath before forcing a smile. "Anakin! What a surprise. I was just-uh. getting some fresh air."

"At two in the morning?”" He arched his scarred eyebrow.

You cleared your throat, straightening up and taking a few steps away from the window. "Best time for it."

He huffed out a dry laugh, stepping closer. "Try again."

You shifted on your feet, eyes darting toward the door, then back to him. "It’s not a big deal."

"If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t be sneaking."

That shut you up.

"I wasn’t going far," you argued. "Just—meeting my friends."

Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You do realize that Coruscant isn’t exactly safe at this hour, right?"

"Oh, please," you scoffed. "It’s not like I’m wandering into the lower levels. We’re just going Nothing’s going to happen."

"That’s not the point." His jaw clenched. "You shouldn’t be sneaking around in the first place."

You rolled your eyes. "I’m not a child, Anakin. I don’t need a lecture."

"No," he agreed, stepping even closer. "But you do need to stop making my life harder."

"What?" You scoffed, arms crossing over your chest.

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face before looking at you again, frustration laced with something deeper. "Do you have any idea what it’s like to worry about you all the time?"

You stared at him, caught off guard. "Anakin, I'm not 12, I'll be fine."

Anakin exhaled sharply, his patience hanging by a thread. "Either you stay, or I’m coming with you."

"You don’t get to make that decision for me, Anakin."

"Someone has to," he shot back, voice rough with frustration. "Because clearly, you don’t care how reckless you’re being."

You scoffed. "I’m not reckless. You're just like Padme. I don’t need you hovering over me like some overprotective-"

"Maker, do you even hear yourself?" He took a step closer, whisper-shouting now in order to not wake up your sister. The intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. "I can’t just let you walk out of here because it would kill me if something happened to you."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable.

"Anakin-"

"No." He shook his head, stepping even closer, until he was barely a breath away. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t act like it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk away. And I sure as hell can’t sit here and let you slip through my fingers again."

The air between you was electric, charged with something you’d both been avoiding for far too long.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Then don’t."

Anakin froze. His breathing was uneven, his hands trembling at his sides.

And then-his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t hesitant. It was desperate, messy, like he had been holding himself back for far too long and had finally snapped.

You gasped against him, but any protest died the second his hands cupped your face, pulling you deeper into him. His lips moved against yours like he was afraid you’d disappear, like he needed to memorize the way you felt.

Stars, you were drowning in him. In the way he kissed you, in the way his breath hitched when your fingers curled into his tunic.

He kissed just like he fought-passionate, relentless, as if the very idea of stopping was unbearable. His fingers curled into your hair, deepening the kiss, stealing every breath from your lungs.

A low groan rumbled in his chest when you let out a soft whimper, and suddenly, you found yourself backed against the wall, his body caging you in.

His thumb brushed over your jaw as he pulled away, gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth. "Tell me to stop," he rasped. "Tell me, and I will." He mumbled, face barely an inch from yours.

You didn’t even think twice before your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. Every part of you felt alive, a rush of heat and electricity coursing through your veins.

His lips left yours briefly, both of you gasping for air, but he didn’t give you a chance to fully process what was happening. His mouth was on your neck now, pressing soft, heated kisses against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Anakin..." Your breathless voice cracked as your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

He groaned your name, his lips trailing upward to your ear. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he muttered between kisses, his voice raw. "I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s... it’s all I ever do."

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of his words and his touch. Everything in you wanted this-wanted him. It was all too much, and yet, you couldn’t pull away.

You felt his breath hot against your skin as he pulled back, his chest heaving. "Tell me you want this too," he said, voice thick with desire. "Please, just say it. I need to know you want this."

You looked up at him, eyes clouded with the same urgency, the same need. "I want this," you breathed out, unable to hide the truth any longer. "I want you."

"Please…" He whispered your name like a prayer, his hands moving to the small of your back, urging you closer. He pushed you back on the bed, crawling over you.

You welcome him with open arms, wrapping one around his neck while the other one runs over his back and arm. His arm is steadily holding you up by the waist, caressing and squeezing your skin while the mechanic one is holding his weight up.

"Ani" You whimper as his hips involuntarily grind against you, rubbing his thick length against your thigh.

"I'm sorry m'lady" He teases, lips latching onto your jaw and neck. "You ever done this before?" He mutters against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck.

"Yeah.." You mumble sheepishly, although you do your best to hide it. For some reason, that felt worse than saying you weren't. You couldn't tell why.

He hums, nipping at a sensitive spot on your neck before he pulls back slightly, slipping his Jedi robe off and letting it fall to the ground.

"I couldn't wait to get my hands on you.." Anakin brushes his nose against your neck as his hands trail from your thighs up to your waist, slipping under your shirt and taking it off.

You waste no time in tugging on the remaining clothes he has, which he complies with immediately-pushing his pants down as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

Withing seconds, both of you are naked and his tip is teasing your entrance as he adjusts himself. "Tell me to stop if it gets too much, okay?" He whispers.

"As if.." You chuckle, swallowing thickly as he parts your legs with his knee, accidentally brushing against your wetness.

He shakes his head in amusement before bottoming out, drawing a loud gasp from you.

"Shh...can't have none of that when your sister's sleeping in the next room.." He warns you

"R-right.." Your voice weavers.

"Good, good.." He nods tauntingly before starting to move again. His hips snap against yours in a firm pace, filling the sound with various but muffled noises.

Your hands run up and down his back and arms, grounding yourself against the almost punishing sensations. To refrain from making noise, you bit down on your lip. Hard. To the point where you could swear it was bleeding.

Still, soft and desperate noises managed to make their way to Anakin's ears and gosh, he was enjoying them, but no way is he gonna let himself be caught before he destroys your pussy thoroughly at least once.

"I told you to shut up." He mutters breathlessly, hand coming up to cover your mouth.

That, mixed with his precise thrusts makes you moan into his hand, and arch up, taking him deeper. His tip had no problem in kissing your cervix repeatedly..

"Damnit.." He huffs "No wonder half the Senators trip over themselves for you."

Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into his skin desperately as your body recoils against the bed with the force of his thrusts. Anakin's eyes keep wandering over your half covered face and body-taking in the way your tits bounce.

"Anakin-oh, Maker" You breathe out, tightening around him as if to pull him deeper and further into you.

"Too loud.." He shakes his head, smashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. It's messy and desperate, as if he never kissed anyone in his life. His tongue delves in your mouth, lapping over yours hungrily.

"Mhm, that's right." He encourages "I've got you."

His voice alone sent shivers down your spine. Heat started pooling in your lower belly, the familiar sensation making you more aroused and excited.

Your hand grips the sheets, back arching further into him as you cum. Your walls are basically suffocating his length and boy, does it feel good.

Your breathing is labored and you're babbling nonsense quietly as Anakin ruts his hips into yours repeatedly, groaning above you. His breath fans your neck and jaw, making you feel even hotter and vulnerable.

"Fuu-where do you want me?" He prompts, voice strained. "Hm, pretty girl?"

"Mmmh.." You whine "Anywhere you want..I don't care I just need you."

"Correct." He teases, giving a few rough thrusts before spilling inside of you with a soft whimper of pleasure, painting your insides white.

[pizzapottah]

I’m gonna pack my things (and leave you behind)

summary: You’re five years old when Darth Vader kills your mom. Or — so you think — your parents.

pairing: han solo x skywalker!reader (eventually), platonic skywalker family x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: so many feelings, reader's anakin and padme's daighter, also she's a itty bitty haunted by the force, anakin and padme die but it’s not really explored much (yet), mentions of childbirth, nightmares, mentions of anakin’s demise on mustafar, one swear word i think

author's note: I know y'all want an update on the heir and the wolf and that the star wars fandom is as dead as pope francis but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE 🙏🙏🙏 this is for the 2 people that said they would read it lmao

divider from @saradika

You’re four years old when your mum comes back to your apartment on Coruscant with the happy news. 

She nears your room, where you're trying to screw back together a toy lightsaber that you somehow managed to dissect — tongue sticking out of your mouth, a concentrated pout prominent on your face. You’re really your father’s daughter, she ponders sometimes, thinking back to that blonde boy on the sand planet that managed to build a whole robot with scraps. The nurse droid, RO-N4, is dutifully watching your work, assuring that you don’t hurt yourself in the process and hinting at the pieces that should go back together; she raises her head when she sees that Padmé has returned. 

You jump up when you notice her, running to give her a big hug, almost making her lose her balance; but she’s used to it, and wastes no time in hoisting you on her hip. The robot stands up, ready to gently reprimand you, but your mother gingerly shoos her away with a smile. “Why don’t you go out with Threepio on a walk? I’ll stay here with her. We have something to discuss.” she winks at you, “Some serious girl talk to do, am I right?”

You giggle — that childish, innocent laugh that makes hours of relentless debates in the Senate worth going through — rubbing your cheek against hers. “Yeah! I have shoooo many things to tell you, mama!” 

The robots follow the senator’s suggestion, stumbling their way out of the door, and you soon go back to the area dedicated to your toys to show her your hard work. “Look, mama!” you’re basically jumping up and down in joy, holding up the pieces of the once toy lightsaber. “This is the cyber crystal–”

“Kyber crystal, sweetie.” 

“Ky-ber crystal. And then this is the one part of the handle with the switch–”

You could go on and ramble for hours, she thinks. She’d happily listen to all and any of your thoughts and wonders and never get tired from it. Soon enough, Padmé’s lying down on the soft sponge puzzle pieces of the playmat that serve to prevent any possible injury from falling over. We’ll need to change those soon, she thinks absentmindedly, she’s already grown out of the always-falling-over phase. 

She isn’t sure of how much time passes; at some point your ramblings slow and you scoot closer to her, sniggling in her lap. “Mama,” you mumble, yawning. “‘m so happy that you’re here. I missed you a lot today.”

Her heart breaks. A hand carding through your locks, she smiles sadly, “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry that mama has to work so much. But I promise it’s just so that once you grow up you will be able to live in a peaceful Galaxy, without ever worrying about learning how to fight like your papa.”

You perk up. “But I wanna be like papa when I grow up.”

She shakes her head, feigning her best scandalized expression. “How dare you? What am I, chopped liver?” she takes you in her arms and blows raspberries in your cheeks, making you squeal and thrash around. “Nooo! Don’t, mama, it’s ticklish!” 

“What about being a senator, mh?” she offers, not unkindly. “We can fight too, you know.” She puts on her best imitation of Palpatine and presses a matter of utmost importance, “Senator Skywalker, what do you think we should have for dinner as of today?” 

Your chuckle makes your little chest rumble against her belly. Your surname is not Skywalker — it is Amidala, often Naberrie when on Naboo, but never have your parents referred to you as that; they mostly leave it out when asked, avoiding the question but never stating either the truth or the cover-up. There’s still hope to change the Order, Anakin always says, that one day she can wear my surname without it causing a scandal. And Padmé believes him: and she believes that when the time comes, you’ll be rightly known as Senator Skywalker. 

Suddenly, you go quiet. “I want papa,” you whisper it like it’s forbidden — it kind of is, but you shouldn’t know that. Padmé’s heart breaks a little again. Anakin was sent out on a mission two weeks ago and hasn’t even been able to keep in touch ever since, making you miss him terribly. 

She laughs as softly as she can — she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. “No can do, sweetie. Papa isn’t due to be home in at least another three days, but I’m sure that once he’s here he’ll be elated to spend some time with you. Besides, you can’t eat papa for dinner.” she rests her cheek on her hand, patting the free space next to her. “Until he comes back, it’s just you and me. What would you like to do tomorrow? I have no Senate meetings.” 

You scoot closer, lying down on the spot she just patted, curling against her chest, “Can we see Ahsoka, then?” 

She chuckles a little quieter now. Her and Anakin still don't know how to explain to you that she left the Order a while ago and has no intention on returning to Coruscant any time soon. “Ahsoka’s away like papa, honey. But I’m sure that once she comes back, she’ll be just as happy as he will to spend time with you.” 

She smooths your hair back, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, pressing her hand up and down your back. She wonders how good of a sister you’ll be; and even if she knows you’ll be wonderful with the new baby, she still can’t bring herself to say it out loud. “How about I make some shaak meat and then get you prepared for a good bubble bath?”

You look up at her, pouting, “But I’m big now! Do I really have to bathe?” 

Padmé bursts out laughing. “You’ll have to clean yourself your whole life, sweetheart, to hopefully not smell like a bantha.”

You huff, glaring at her. “Papa barely even showers.”

“Papa stinks. He was raised on a planet with barely any water and still considers showers optional. Do you ever hear me tell him how I love his perfume? No, that’s because he doesn’t use any. You hear me sending him to sleep on the couch because he smells terribly, though.” 

You end up eating your dinner — vegetables included — without a fuss and going to take your bath like a champ. Somewhere along that timespan both the nurse droid and C-3PO came back home to be of help in cleaning the kitchen as Padmé prepares you for bed, lying down next to you and reading to you one of the stories in the hologram that Anakin bought on one of his last missions. 

MId-story, she notices you get eerily silent. She carefully turns her head, trying to understand if you’re already sleeping, only to find you more awake than her, eyes open wide. “Is… is everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, a bit bewildered– just a moment ago, you looked like you were about to fall asleep, and now you look like you’re ready to fight everything that could be thrown at you. 

“Mama,” you whisper it like it’s a secret, “I just remembered. How are they?”

She blinks, confused. “Who?”

“The twins,” you say, “Luke and Leia.” you pat her belly as if to state the obvious. 

She looks at you, horrified — she found out she was pregnant today, and no droid or doctor mentioned twins. “I– sweetheart, what?”

You lean your head, confused. “I saw them yesterday in a dream. They asked me about you.” 

Her heart almost stops. She laughs nervously, looking at you with wide eyes, expecting you to say something about the weird and absolutely not real dream that you had, but instead you just stare at her, completely serious. “What… what do you mean?” 

You frown. “If you don’t know, then I can’t help you. Nighty night.” you tuck yourself under the covers and curl above her chest once again, sighing happily. 

Padmé’s heart feels heavy. It’s happening again– you murmur something about having had a dream, say something even more alarming, then completely ignore what you just said and act like nothing happened. It’s getting worrying — Padmé managed to get you out of the Jedi program last year just because of her status as senator, but she is sure that this year, she won’t be as lucky. The quantity of midi-chlorians in your blood can’t be hid, unfortunately, and in probably less than a year she will be forced to give you up to the Temple. 

Anakin’s sure you will make a great Jedi, but your mother’s worried — and how can she not be? Her husband’s more away than he is at home, and with the war going on, it’s already a miracle he manages to visit Coruscant. The fact that you seem to possess your father’s horrifying ability to dream about possible futures doesn’t ease her worries. 

“I’m just worried about her–” 

“But why? She’s young, she’ll be trained–”

“She will, but I don’t want her to be haunted by the thoughts of possible futures and whatnot.”

It’s late. You’ve already gone to bed, shushed by Anakin’s stories and anecdotes from his latest mission, and even if this should be a carefree and happy moment because her husband has managed to come back home unscathed again– your mother just can’t get something out of her head. 

Anakin huffs and puts his hands on his waist, looking at Padmé like she’s crazy — there it is, where you got your attitude from. “I can always call one of the Temple guards and tell them that there’s a Force-sensitive kid here. They can train her until I can take her as Padawan; it’ll take, what? Six, seven years? Hopefully I’ll be done with the war by that time and will be able to focus on her as my padawan.” 

His wife crosses her arms, glaring at him, “I don’t want her as your padawan,” she grits out, “I want her safe, here, where we can have a decent relationship and she won’t be stripped away from my arms.”

He leans his head and raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I can’t make her dreams go away. I don’t even know how to make my nightmares go. But at the Temple, they can teach her how to control them, how to use them for her own good– for the Order’s and the Republic’s own good–”

“You say that just because you wouldn’t have any problems in seeing her,” she sniffs, “you’ll be a welcome, familiar presence in the Temple — but it is known that they don’t let anyone outside of the Jedi enter.” 

His shoulders drop, and he starts shaking his head. “Padmé…”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me that we have to give her up to the Temple, because I don’t want to and I won’t–”

“But we’ll have to, Padmé, they’ll teach her everything she’ll ever need and–” 

She bursts out crying. It might be the pregnancy, or the fact that she still hasn’t told him about it and it’s eating her alive, but she’s much more emotional than usual. “I don’t want them to take her away from me!” 

Anakin’s eyes soften, his posture breaks, “Oh, dear,” he mutters, pulling her in his arms and letting her cry out in his chest. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her head, “we’ll find a solution for everything.” He still doesn’t know when or how, but he’ll try with everything he has to solve this situation to the best of his ability.

He had honestly thought Padmé was exaggerating when she said that you were having visions, probably thinking it was just baby babbling or something, but he is proven wrong that same night, when he is abruptly woken up by the sound of the door of their bedroom opening. 

“Papa?” you call out from the doorstep, voice sleepy. 

He manages to get himself out of bed — when he’s home, night duty is always on him, as Padmé already deals with it enough while he’s away — and, yawning, he walks off to you and kneels down to your level, sending a glance to your bantha plushie safely tucked under your elbow. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Blank stare on your part, you look at him like a war veteran would. “You were being burned, papa.” 

He blinks and counts to five before accepting that it’s way too late in the night — or early in the morning, he has no idea — to deal with this type of shit. “Okay, listen– how about we go catch some fresh air outside, hm?” 

You let him pick you up without any protests, curling up in his arms as you whimper quietly. He drags his feet along the pavement of the apartment, sliding open the door to the terrace that overlooks the whole city; it’s like it never sleeps, always someone going around and about with their speeders, lights often left on in the apartments below. The night air sends a chill down his spine and he instinctively holds you tighter in hopes to shield you from the cold. 

“Mum told me about these dreams you’ve been having,” he starts slowly. 

You hum, pressing closer to him, the plushie squashed between you two. Your eyes look tired, almost older than you actually are, and his heart squeezes at the sight. “Papa, do you know Darth Vader?”

His heart skips a beat. He knows no Vader, surely not a Sith named like that, but the fact that you dreamed about it almost makes his knees buckle. He mentally promises himself to make some digging in the archives and reports for any Vaders that might be hiding out there. “I don’t, sweetheart. Do you?” 

Your brows furrow, your little hand patting the skin above his heart. “I don’t think I do.” 

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Well, what does he do in your dreams?”

Your frown deepens. “I never see him. But Obi-Wan’s afraid of him– or, or angry at him, I’m not sure. Maybe both.” 

His frown mirrors yours. You’ve never met Obi-Wan aside from a time or two when he was assigned as bodyguard to your mother, but that was years ago; you shouldn’t be able to remember him. “How do you know who Obi-Wan is, sweetheart?” 

You stare at him like he’s stupid. “Isn’t he a friend?”

“I mean, I guess he is, but you’ve never actually met him, have you?”

“Then I think I will.” you cuddle back on his shoulder like nothing happened. 

Yeah, we gotta send this one to the Temple, he bitterly thinks. The thought of your mother alone in this apartment after years of having you around makes him sad, but there’s no one else apart from the masters there that could help you — he would try to, if the war wasn’t stripping him of all of his free time. 

Anakin has no time to properly train you. As of now, he could manage to give you chopped notions and barely any principles; in the Temple, all the Jedi solely focus on the younglings’ training, a luxury he can’t afford right now. 

She’s still so young, Padmé’s voice rings in his head, I don’t want her to forget about me. 

Six years old might be already too old for a youngling, Anakin ponders, but five years old would be perfect. They still accept kids that age. 

Another birthday for Padmé, he decides, another birthday and then off to the Temple she goes. 

Except, he doesn’t know there’s no time for another birthday. Not for Padmé, anyways. Nor for him, too, some could argue. 

“Papa,” you mumble, “could you sing me that lullaby?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for that?” He teases, with no actual intent in ever stopping to sing Ghost Star to you. You could be forty and him on his deathbed and, if you asked, he’d still sing it for you. “Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me…”

You do end up properly meeting Obi-Wan. That is, unfortunately, after — for what you know — both your parents die. 

The air in the spacecraft is eerily still, as even C-3PO is stunned to silence. The tears on your cheeks have long since dried, and you keep fidgeting with a small, faintly glowing cube in your hands  — the only thing you managed to take with you when your mother loaded you into the spaceship directed to Mustafar. She’s — was, was, was — able to open it, but you still have no idea how to do it; your father promised he would have taught you to, but… well. He now never will. 

The cries from the med bay stopped a while ago. And while you’re still so young, you know that the silence means nothing good. You might not be a master of the Force, or know enough about it to understand fully what it means, but you’ve felt it — your mother’s presence slipping away in favor of two smaller ones. 

Finally, after a time that seems never-ending, Obi-Wan emerges from the door connecting the hallway with the infirmary, his expression full of sorrow. He looks surprised by your calmness, almost as if he had expected you to have gone crazy by now. “Hi,” he breathes lowly, tired and remorseful. How do you tell a kid her mother’s dead when just a few hours ago you had to break the same type of news about her father? 

After he understands that you’re not going to reply, he gets closer and kneels in front of you, taking note of the cube you’re holding in your hands — a holocron. Does she know how to open it, yet? “Hey, kid,” he tries as softly as he can, “I…”

“Mama’s gone, isn’t she?” You interrupt him. Obi-Wan almost stumbles; the look in your eyes is scaringly similar to the one Anakin had sometimes, strangely old for your age. “I felt her slipping away like papa did.” 

His lips are pressed into a thin line as he puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” he says it even though he knows it won’t change anything. “We tried everything, but even the medical droid had no idea what to do.”

“Oh,” C-3PO mumbles as R2-D2 beeps sadly. “This– this is horrendous news.” 

You nod absentmindedly, like you’d seen it coming. “Are Luke and Leia okay?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Who?”

“The twins. Are they okay?”

As even Padmé looked surprised by the fact she was having twins, he wonders how in the world you knew and gave them names. Your mother left no names behind, and he had thought about just naming them after your parents, but if you already had names picked out… then it’s not his place to name your siblings, is it?

“They are.” C-3PO sighs in relief as R2-D2 lets out a happier beep. “Would you like to see them?” 

You nod timidly, almost stumbling as you stand up from the chair you sat in and taking Obi-Wan’s hand when he offers it to you. You’re still gripping on the holocron like a lifeline, its dim glow faltering every now and then. “Do you know what that is?” He asks, pointing at it as the door to the infirmary opens. 

You glance at it, unsure. “Dunno. Mama always played the hologram inside when I missed papa, but I tried opening it and it didn’t work.”

If Padmé managed to open it, then Anakin must’ve programmed the holocron so that the Force frequency needed to open it was small enough that she could play it; even if you were a prodigy like your father, though, it would be impossible for you to open it without directions or a minimal training. 

The nurse-droid your mother brought with her is feeding some milk to one of the twins when you enter — Obi-Wan guesses she might have had it with her the whole time, because he doesn’t remember this ship having such a thing as baby formula in its stocks. 

RO-N4 places the infant back in the cot with the other twin as soon as they burp, and since you’re still too short to properly look at them Obi-Wan has to take you in his arms for you to have a good peek. 

“This is Leia,” he murmurs softly, pointing at the baby with small tufts of brown hair. “She was born first.” He then points to the smaller, uglier and balder twin, “And this is Luke; he was born right after.”

You coo, pushing your index finger against Luke’s cheek. “They’re so ugly,” you state, not exactly with the intent of insulting them– just saying what’s in your mind. 

Obi-Wan chuckles fondly. “Well, I’m sure you were at least as ugly as them when you were this little. Pretty much everyone is.”

You turn to him, holocron still in hand, hesitantly nudging it to him. “Mister Obi,” you say, calling him with the nickname that later on will stick to him for pretty much your entire time spent with him, “do you know how to play this?”

He nods, taking the holocron in his hand and changing his hold on you so that he can use his other hand while still keeping you upright, “This is a holocron. It’s used by Force users to store information and files, and it opens if infused with the Force. Let’s see…” 

He concentrates on the cube, focusing a small amount of Force within it, then delicately twists the corners as it starts to glow steadier. Just as he expected — the smallest amount of Force that even Padmé could’ve been able to conjure up. The holocron starts to float, projecting a hologram in the dim-lit room. 

It starts with Anakin, clearly just knighted as a proper Jedi: he’s still a bit scrawny, his hair’s yet to grow after the braid and the small ponytail for padawans had been cut. He looks a bit embarrassed to be in front of the camera as a small baby’s cries echo in the recording. “Do I really have to do this?” He mutters. 

A laugh comes from the side, and the baby’s cries get louder — maybe closer to the camera. “Of course you do!” It’s Padmé’s voice, amused but clearly tired, stabbing directly into Obi-Wan's heart. That poor, poor girl… “It’s the only way she’ll stop crying, and since you’re mostly off-world, she’s mostly crying. This will solve a lot of my problems — even the droids are starting to go mad.” 

A pair of arms and a swoosh of a dress appear to the side, and suddenly a crying infant is trusted into Anakin’s hands. It’s you, his master realises, crying as if the world’s about to end, face all red and pudgy, definitely a bit less ugly than your siblings. Your father’s eyes soften in a way that makes Obi-Wan’s heart ultimately crumble. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, cooing and humming as he presses kisses all over your cheeks. He winces as your face contorts even more, “Now, c’mon, don’t look at me like that,”

“Please, Master, just sing the song!” It’s C-3PO’s voice in the distance, full of despair and anguish. “Another sob and the metal holding me together might just turn to rust!” R2-D2’s beeping seems to be of the same idea as him. 

Anakin huffs, glaring down at you with no real hostility. “You’re one hell of a spoiled baby, you know that?” 

Your cries continue nonetheless. He glares at the camera. “Padmé, I love you, but if anyone else ever sees this, I’m divorcing you,” 

“You would never,” your mother’s knowing voice is a mere rumble in the distance as Anakin settles to hold you tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead before starting to sing. 

“Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me. Ghost star, hiding in the night, all your friends are all so bright… when the sky is clear, I can sense you near, looking down on me. Ghost star, silent in the sky, now I start to wonder why. Show me your light; I've waited all night. Ghost star, won't you sing with me?” 

He sings the lullaby multiple times until you’re completely knocked out, dismissing Padmé when she offers to take you back to your room, preferring to keep you close for another while. His stare as he looks at you is so tender that Obi-Wan can’t believe he just had to leave him to die.

Soon enough the recording restarts, the same banter and song again, but he lets it play. Every word is a guilt trip, every laugh a stab in his chest, and the image of Anakin with a baby happily sleeping against his chest might just be the end of him. 

By the time he finally shuts the holocron off both you and the twins are passed out; he tries to convince himself that the hole in his chest isn’t gnawing away at the last bit standing of his sanity. He looks at you, carding a hand through your hair, of the same tenderness as your father but with the same curl of your mother's, and decides here and there to never tell you about what really happened on Mustafar. Not that he really had the intention to do, as of now, but… you don’t deserve to know about Vader. Obi-Wan won’t let you live with the knowledge that your father killed both himself and your mother, no. 

And so, the lie about Darth Vader killing both Senator Amidala and her loyal guard, Anakin Skywalker, who lost his life fighting for hers, is born. 

[s9fti3]

‘I can fix him!!’

Him in question;

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a Skywalker triplet and being raised in the Empire

Skywalkers x sibling!reader

warnings: death and destruction. reader lowkey evil in the first half

a/n: yeah,,,its based on an oc. timeline is slightly out of order/weird bc im doing it from memory

prompt:

when you were born, you and your other two siblings were separated

your brother was sent to live with an uncle on tattooine

your sister was raised by alderaan nobility

and you, you never made it to your destination

the ship that carried you and the jedi that would care for you was intercepted, you were taken and brought to your father, anakin—now known as darth vader

as far as he knew, you were the only child and he had killed your mother, padmé

the emperor saw use for you and decided you’d be kept within the empire, vader could be close and you’d know your father, but you were not to reveal your true identities

“father, you used to be a jedi?” -you

“i was once, but that was a long time ago” -vader

“what happened?” -you

“the order betrayed me, sent my master to kill me. they could not be trusted, which is why we must kill all jedi” -vader

“yes, father” -you

your training to be an inquisitor was overseen by vader, who grew more and more angry at your spar partner every time you were hit

“patience, vader. you must not show weakness—or else i will kill y/n myself” -palpatine

you had a lot of weight on your shoulders. hiding the fact you were anakin skywalker and padmé amidala’s child. vader’s child. palpatine always had his eye on you. he wanted you to be one of his soldiers

you were very young when you were appointed an inquisitor role. about 13

and you had been given a new last name as not to tip off anyone in the empire

you often reported to vader—a petty complaint or a real crime

“another inquisitor compared me to a bantha” -you

“it will be dealt with” -vader

that inquisitor was dead by the end of the day

you were tasked with a lot of special missions, trusted with sensitive information—the other inquisitors noticed and were very jealous

but palpatine was impressed by the way you handled yourself

“y/n, you remind me of your father when he was young. powerful, strong, passionate. one day you may have a place by my side” -palpatine

you were shaken by that offer as you knew the rule of twos

rebels feared you, an inquisitor who swiftly wiped them from the galaxy without a second thought

the clone wars fascinated you, and as much as you wanted to pry for information from your father, you conceded

but you always heard whispers of anakin skywalker’s famed 501st legion and his padawan, ahsoka

you always wondered if he compared the two of you

sometime, when away from palpatine—often on mustafar—you’d be vader’s child and not another inquisitor. you’d be able to spar and speak a bit more freely.

“your mother. she was a politician. formerly the queen of naboo when she was your age. i…loved her dearly. but the jedi forbid it, we had to keep it a secret” -vader

“would the emperor have allowed it?” -you

“he was one of few who knew” -vader

some days he wished he were just anakin and the three of you lived peacefully on naboo. he wished you were not a soldier like him. but he was truly proud of what you’d amounted to

your faith in the empire started to falter around the time the ghost crew began to wreak havoc

as capable as you were, you hesitated to use your full potential to take them out

and it was noticed

“you will not show these criminals mercy, y/n! you take them out, or i will find someone more deserving of power!” -palpatine

it was around age 16 you questioned the cause

analyzed it without the influence of palpatine or vader or any soldiers

unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple

some years later, you were assigned to the death star—an honor, it was

one day you and vader had captured princess leia of alderaan and you felt…different. some sort of connection

“not often you see an inquisitor these days” -leia

“nor a princess committing treason against the empire” -you, putting her in her cell

before you knew it, there was a whole crew of rebels on board trying to save her

some more familiar than others

kenobi?

“i know that name” -you

“silence, child. i will finish what i started” -vader

obi-wan recognized you right away, the child he failed to bring to safety

but what didn’t sit right with you was when you’d hunted the other rebels going to save the princess, you heard

“i’m luke skywalker, i’m here to rescue you”

skywalker

your true name was shared by another

were you a twin?

there wasn’t enough time to figure out the details, you were a servant to the empire—to palpatine. you had a mission

but before long you’d have to escape the destruction of the death star

“father. that boy. his name is skywalker” -you

“the force is strong in him” -vader

“what do we do?” -you

“you will receive instruction when necessary” -vader

lots to ponder, lots to unpack

a brother. a brother even vader didn’t know about. he had to be. theres no other explanation

and with obi-wan kenobi? your father’s master. this was no coincidence

some time passed and you met the rebels again in bespin—cloud city

it was here your father confronted luke about his parentage.

“luke, i am your father” -vader

but as vader was distracted, you fled to help the rest of the millennium falcon crew escape

“how can we trust you?” -lando

“please, understand, i have been raised in the empire my entire life. forced to hide my true identity. my real name is y/n skywalker. my parents are padmé amidala and anakin skywalker. i believe luke is my twin brother” -you

“oh, please, you’ll say anything to get the chance to kill us—” -lando

“i believe they’re telling the truth. come with us, y/n” -leia

you’d saved luke and fled bespin with the remainder of the crew, apologizing for han’s fate in the carbonite

and luke was thrilled to see you face to face all things considered

“so it’s true? vader is my—our father?” -luke

“i was found in a ship with a jedi—presumably on a mission to hide me from the empire. vader had no idea you existed. until you met on the death star” -you

“you spent your whole life in the empire?” -luke

“i did. but to preserve vader’s anonymity, i was not permitted to be his ‘child,’ although—vader has a hard time following rules. they trained me as soon as my power began to show and inducted me into the inquisitors early on. i just…it never felt right. i’ve killed…so many people. done so many unforgivable things and yet i could never break free until now” -you

luke hugged you. it was the first time anyone ever had

“y/n. i know we’re strangers, but i understand regret. you left of your own free will, knowing there could be consequences. you came with us. there is good in you” -luke

you felt bad luke was comforting you when your dad had just had his hand chopped off

he asked what you knew of your father’s history, your mother’s history, and you told him all you could

your freedom from the empire felt refreshing

being y/n skywalker was refreshing

and although building trust took time, luke advocated for you every chance he could

“y/n knows the empire inside and out. they have training as a pilot, a soldier, a leader. you can’t go wrong with them” -luke

“y/n was complicit in the destruction of alderaan and countless other planets. millions murdered without so much as a warning. gone. like that” -mon mothma

“if i may, considering it is my people’s demise you are invoking—y/n has made their choice to join the rebellion. shed their imperial image and train as a jedi with luke. we are lucky to have someone so well-versed in the ways of the empire” -leia

“and you’re comfortable with y/n, the sith raised by darth vader and the empire, to command rebel troops? what if they lead them into a trap?” -mon mothma

“y/n has done nothing since their departure from the empire to invoke such suspicion. i’ve seen nothing but acts or remorse and kindness as they rebuild their image” -leia

you couldn’t figure out why leia was so kind to you. you felt guilty about the destruction of her planet

but she blamed vader. she didn’t blame you as you were just a pawn in a sick game

the battle of endor was fought while you and luke handled vader and palpatine

“are you ready, brother?” -you, grabbing his hand

“i am glad to have you by my side” -luke

palpatine laughed in your face

“six months away from the empire and you’re already claiming to be a jedi? hah! you have years of darkness inside of you, i was ready to make you my new protégé. it is a shame, you’d be a good one” -palpatine

you, luke, and vader fought together to vanquish him, and as you watched your father die, you knew he did everything he could to protect you in this life

“y/n. seeing you as a jedi…has been the most fulfilling part of my life. luke, thank you for guiding them where they should have always been” -anakin

as the rebels won the war, you went back to the forest moon of endor, where luke informed you of something he had been waiting to tell you for some time

“obi-wan told me something, it feels like a miracle, really” -luke

“well, spit it out, already!” -you

“we’re triplets” -luke

“we have another sibling?” -you

“leia is our sister” -luke

it felt like everything clicked at that very moment. a sister. you three were connected from the beginning

you soon hugged leia and delivered the news with luke

a family reunion years in the making

after the events of the war died down and the galaxy began to rebuild, you decided you needed to atone for your sins

do some good on your own

“don’t hesitate to call. we’re just a hologram away” -leia

“thank you for being there for me. and believing in me. i wouldn’t be here you without you guys” -you

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @summersimmerus // @lady-violet // @simp-legend //

[pasukiyo]

THE UNDOING OF DARKNESS

anakin skywalker/darth vader x f!reader word count: 6k warnings: darth vader, a depiction of murder, angst, smut, p in x sex (unprotected), inappropriate usage of the force, did i mention angst, anakin is also unburnt for the sake of this fic synopsis: sometimes she believes anakin skywalker still exists. darth vader will say that he is no more but she does not truly believe he is gone. after all, anakin once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her.

read on ao3

 Every breath feels like the rarest air in Fortress Vader. Not only is it stuffy, and the simplest of movements makes you break out into a sweat, but it has always felt more like a prison than a home. She’s tried to think of it as one, as it is the place where she spends most, if not all, of her days. It is hard, however, when all she can see is gray, orange, and red for as far as the eye can see. It is hard when she knows there is always the possibility that he is there, watching, scrutinizing, waiting. 

 He, the man she once held in such high regard, the man she never thought she would have, the man that always seemed so impossible and out of reach, the man she never thought would have given her a chance. Maybe he wouldn’t have, she thinks when she has nothing to do but sit by the sliver in the wall of the throne room that serves as a window, looking out into the fiery oceans of Mustafar, if he hadn't changed. 

 She knew the man who he once was. She knew the man before the days of apparatus, before the days of the Empire, before the days of darkness. She thinks she must be the only one left who knew Lord Vader as well as she. Yes, she knew the man Lord Vader had been, before the days of dictatorship, before the fear of existing, because existing, in these days, was fear in itself. 

 She thinks she must be one of the only ones left who knew of Anakin Skywalker. Sometimes, when she sees Lord Vader in the way she and only she sees him, she thinks she can see Anakin again, slipping through the cracks. Sometimes, she believes Anakin must still be here, somewhere, if even a fragment of him. Sometimes she will look into his eyes— the fiery pools they were now— and swear she will see a glimmer, a mirage of that cerulean ocean she once knew, slipping through the cracks of his inferno. 

 If Anakin Skywalker did still exist, however, Lord Vader made sure he never came to be. If Anakin Skywalker still existed, then he was simply locked away deep inside the cage that had been built around the new Lord Vader’s heart. She isn’t sure if it is possible to break through the iron bars— and frankly, she’s become too frightened to even want to continue trying. She feels guilty, like she has some sense of responsibility, of duty to the lost Anakin Skywalker, as she is the only one that Lord Vader allows so close, the only one who may see him in a state as vulnerable as he will allow her to see him. 

 She wonders sometimes if Anakin Skywalker cries out for her, much like the way she did when she was taken, plucked like a rose from her village in the outskirts of Galidraan. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember that day, the harsh cold on her skin, the painful inferno inside her chest, the binds used to restrain her hands behind her back. 

 “No!” She can still feel her scream ripping from her throat, the acidic, rumbling feeling in her chest as she watches the red plasmic blade of the dark figure slice clean through her uncle’s neck, and can still see the shape of his head tumble into the white snow through her watery vision. Although she knows she is merely looking into the past, the pain feels too real, like she is reliving her worst day again. 

 She lunges forward, like she intends to avenge her uncle, a foolish spur of the moment instinct, as she is bound by the wrists and with a blaster to the back of her head. The stormtrooper behind her knocks the butt of his blaster into the back of her skull and her head rings while her cheek finds the snow. She hears her cousins and her people cry behind her and when she pries a single eyelid open, she can make out their trembling silhouettes, on their knees, shoulder to shoulder, a wall of stormtroopers behind them. 

 The ringing begins to dull and she hears footsteps somewhere behind her. She cannot bring herself to move, as she is stunned with the realization that today would be their final day. All these people she’s grown up with, her family she swore she would protect— they would meet their ends today. She would never see her off-planet friends again— she would never see Anakin Skywalker again. That promise he made her that he would see her again feels empty now. She almost wonders if she was a fool to put so much faith in him and his Jedi friends to begin with, if she was a fool to think he’d want her, someone as simple and as plain as her. 

 But all the same, he said they would come should trouble find her beloved planet— so where was he now? She believes he cannot be dead, purged along with many of the other of his kind. She knows he is out there, somewhere. Everyday, she thinks he will come poking his head out from the snowy horizon. Everyday, she waits for that moment to come. She feels the bitter cold seeping into her bones now and thinks how foolish she’s been for believing in such a thing. 

 “The prisoner dares the thought of standing against me,” she hears a voice, deep and undoubtedly male behind her and feels a quivering somewhere inside her chest. The bile that’s been resting at the base of her throat threatens to rise when two stormtroopers step forward, likely from this dark figure’s command, and wraps their hands under her armpits, hoisting her from the ground. She presses her lips together to quell her sick as the world spins and all she can see is black and white. 

 The figure is tall and broad, much more so now that she was so close to him. She has to look up at him and she tries to blink away the blurriness from her vision, and when it does, she can make out the face of his mask. She glowers into the two black circles of his eyes, trying to keep her gaze locked on him rather than on the limp body of her uncle. 

 “You cannot do this,” she says, her voice shaky with uncertainty but feigning determination all the same. “You cannot take us. You cannot kill us. Ana…” she pauses and somewhere in her delirious mind she thinks perhaps she shouldn’t say his name, shouldn’t put yet another target on his back. But her brain tells her these will be her final moments and all she can really think of now is Anakin and of his promise she still tried to cling onto, even now when it was quite literally impossible for it to be fulfilled now. “Anakin will come for us. You cannot kill us.”

 A silence ensues and the masked man’s shoulders rise and she thinks she must have caught him by surprise. Perhaps he already knows of Anakin Skywalker, perhaps he merely wonders why a girl as plain and unimportant as she knows of a Jedi Knight when they’ve all been purged, seemingly from his hand, or at least, his command. 

 His black capes flows in the snowy wind and she trembles, more from knowing his stare behind that mask is devouring her rather than the cold. 

 “You speak in tongues,” he says at last, stepping forward, closer until all she sees is black, an endless void with two circles and a triangle for a face. “I can and I will take whatever I want, foolish girl. I will do what I please.”

 He straightens and with a black, gloved hand, points towards her people, her family. “Kill them,” he says simply and panic blinds her, taking control of her limbs. 

 “No. No!” She screeches into the howling wind, thrashing against the hold of the two stormtroopers behind her as she hears blaster shot after blaster shot and the sound of bodies falling into the snow. “Anakin! Anakin, please! Help me! Help us!” She screams again, sounding more like a fool than she ever has but she’s desperate as she tries to lift herself from the ground, kicking out towards the dark, wicked man before her. 

 All five fingers of the same hand the man used to damn her family to their deaths outstretches and it is like her body, her limbs are no longer her own. They freeze in place and no matter how hard she tries to will them to move, to will her arms to thrash about against their restraints and her legs to kick, they will not. Her heart pounds against her chest and it rises and falls with her shaky breaths as she is forced to stare at the man who has taken her entire world away in a matter of seconds. He steps forward again, looms like a dark cloud with the promise of downpour over her and she has no choice but to stare back, her brows knit together, the promise of tears stinging her eyes. 

 “The man you speak of ceased to exist long ago,” he speaks and she doesn’t quite want to believe him. Although, for a reason she cannot quite define now, she thinks he must be telling the truth, or at least, some version of the truth. “It’d do you well to rid your mind of these foolish beliefs. You shall not be saved. Your life rests in the palms of my hands, and I will do with it what I please.”

 Still, she cannot move, all she can do is silently cry, waiting for this man, this awful, wicked, yet somewhat familiar man to damn her to whatever fate he had in store for her. 

 “You will come with me. You will live in my fortress. You will be what I want you to be. This is a mercy, but do not consider yourself saved. Your life will still be mine to own, and it will be mine to end, should I desire it.”

 She opens her eyes and finds herself back in Mustafar again, staring out at the same fiery ocean she sees every other day. The pain and the memory of that day is still fresh, but she still cannot shake what she feels of Anakin— or rather, Lord Vader— even knowing what he is, what he is capable of. She hates herself for being so easy, for still wanting to believe that her Anakin is still there and that what she has with the new Lord Vader is love, a twisted, altered version of what her life might have been like with Anakin, should circumstances be different. 

 There are footsteps thrumming through the hall beyond the door of the throne room and time seems to still, her heart thudding against her chest as she waits for the door to slide open. When it does, he walks in, rolling like a dark fog into the room and despite the intense heat of Mustafar, she shivers, an icy chill seeping into the marrow of her bones. 

 She simply sits and stares as he stops in the middle of the throne room, her fingers wrapped around the fabric of her gown, chest heaving up and down, waiting for him to address her. She hates this— living in constant fear whilst simultaneously wanting him, wanting the man he used to be, Anakin, back. 

 Another few seconds of silence. 

 And then. 

 “Come here,” he finally speaks and his voice sounds not his own, a different man entirely. She blinks, swinging her legs over the ledge of her seat at the window, complying without a question. Sometimes she hated how easy she gave in to him, but even if she didn’t act of her own free will, she knew she wouldn’t have much of a choice anyways. Still, she hates how quickly she draws nearer, only stopping when she stands before him, looking up into his mask. 

 She purses her lips. She hates this mask. It reminds her of that day. It is the mask of a killer, rather than the face of a man. 

 She inhales, feeling air draw into her chest. Then, “will you let me see you?”

 Another moment of silence, save, of course, for the sound of his breathing through the apparatus. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath and she thinks it must have been a bad day. She internally shudders— tonight could go only one of two ways. 

 She feels a sense of relief, however, when his hands rise to the sides of his helmet, air hissing when he presses his fingers down on either side of the durasteel. Time stops altogether when he inches the helmet away from his head. Full, pink lips unveil behind the mask, a few ridged, faintly red scars like the jagged edges of broken earth spread across his cheeks, up to his strong nose and sharp, red eyes. Dark blonde curls spill over his face and her breath hitches because this is Anakin, but also not and she hates that she still feels something when she sees him, still wants him, and although it pains her to admit it— she still loves him. 

 She blinks up at him, unable to look away and he stares back, lips pressed together, fiery gaze devouring. Yes, it must have been a bad day, because although his gaze is usually unyielding, it is more intense than usual today. It pierces through her, as if he is sifting through her mind, and knowing what he is capable of, he may very well be. 

 It’s reminiscent of the way he used to look at her, back when he was still Anakin. Her Anakin. Her blue-eyed, kind, resilient Anakin. 

 He looked different then, no scars, save for the one on his eye, on his face. His eyes didn’t feel like drowning in a sea of flames, rather, they were oceans of warm cerulean, drawing her in with their kind gaze. She can still feel the rush of secret rendezvous in dark corners of rooms, where no one was watching, away from prying eyes and hushed whispers. 

 She can feel his hands— one warm, one deliciously cool to the touch— resting on either of her cheeks, her own hands wrapped around his elbows. She can still feel his lips against hers then, warm and slow but firm, dominant but soft, gentle. Anakin kissed her like she was a remedy, delicate and precious. Sometimes he still kissed her like this— warm, slow, firm, dominant, gentle. Sometimes it was almost enough to make her feel how she did then— delicate, precious, a remedy. 

 But nothing could amount to the way Anakin looked at her then, with vast blue eyes so inviting, so kind, and so him that she thought she would die if he ceased to look at her like that. This, of course, was not true. Yet, everyday she spent looking into the fiery depths that replaced his warm ocean, she thinks she feels pieces of herself, her old self, rotting. 

 Anakin pulled away from her lips and even though it was all those days ago, she still remembered how tenderly he brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it back behind her ear. She still remembers the pad of his thumb, the one with flesh instead of metal, smoothing circles into her cheekbones. She watches as his lips move to form words and she is simply mesmerized, so enraptured by this man she can hardly breathe. 

 “I will be going away soon,” he told her then, his breath like the warmth of a fire against her face. Her eyelashes flutter as she looks from his lips back to his eyes, wading further into his ocean, as if she could convince him with a stare to stay, to anchor himself here, to her. 

 “But…” she shakes her head, tongue swiping between her lips and her hands slide from his elbows to his wrists. “…but you cannot…” she sighs frustratingly, unable to find her words. “…it is not safe for us. You cannot leave…”

 “Hey,” he whispers in only the way he can, in that way that has her resolve slipping, her knees trembling, her heart stuttering. The wind whips at their hair and their clothes and snow falls behind him but he is so warm, a warm glow in the midst of the storm. She grows warm, warmer in his hands and Anakin’s gaze drops to her quivering lips, the skin of his thumb soothing over her lower one. “You are fully capable of surviving without me,” he assures in a murmur that rolls like thunder in her chest. 

 She shakes her head. “But we are weak!” she protests. “We are not strong enough to handle this on our own. My uncle he…” she closes her eyes, sucks in a breath, tries to ease the unsteady beating of her heart. “…he is only getting older. He isn’t well. The storm is only getting stronger, and if they come… we—“

 “No,” Anakin shakes his head, steps closer, cradles either of her cheeks in the palms of his hands. “Don’t say you can’t.”

 She tilts her head in his palms, unsure of his meaning. “But Anakin, if they—“

 “They will not touch you,” he says and he speaks with a sense of finality, and she knows there would be no question, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She knows that what he says is true. His hands tighten around her face and his gaze is strong, unyielding, piercing where it meets hers. He almost doesn’t seem himself, like there is some other version of him present. She isn’t sure what to think of it, but what she knows for sure is that she knows she must be safe, because Anakin says it is true. “I will not let anyone hurt you, do you understand?”

 He searches her gaze, awaiting her answer. She stares back, wondering how someone like him could be speaking to her like this, touching her like this, caring for her like this. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was like being a snowflake, falling from the heavens, making its descent to the ground— every one was unique, but its uniqueness may only be discovered by those who look close enough. Not many cared to take the time out of their day to see her, but Anakin did. Anakin saw her and held her in a way he and only he could. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was to be seen like nobody else had seen her. To be loved by Anakin Skywalker was a rarity of its own. 

 She nods against his palms, her lashes fluttering as her gaze drops to his chin, to his lips. 

 “What is it?” He asks, lowering his head, catching her gaze in his again. She sniffs, wringing a hand around his wrist. 

 “What if I do not see you again?” She asks. “How long will I have to wait to have you like this again?”

 It is a selfish thought, she thinks. They are in the middle of a war for Maker’s sake, and Anakin is one of the most important assets of it. It is selfish of her to want to keep him all to herself, to want to stay hidden in a permanent rendezvous, away from eyes, away from pain, away from war. The galaxy needed him, that, she knew. But she needed him too. She doesn’t know what she will do with herself, biding the time until she sees him again. 

 “But you will see me again,” he assures in a quiet murmur, his hands dropping from her cheeks to cup either of her hands between his. He presses his lips to one of her knuckles, then to another, and then another until they’ve all been graced by his kiss. Her knees feel like jelly and she is glad he is there to support her, because she feels like she can melt into a gooey puddle of magma at their feet despite the snow. “No matter how far, no matter the time, I will always find you. There is no place in the entire galaxy where you can be where I will not find you. We are bound to one another, you and I are. Even in death, I would claw myself out of the very earth to find you.”

 She feels the bitter sting of tears pooling in her eyes, because she knows they are running out of time, and soon, he would have to take leave. She will only have these words and the memory of his touch to satiate her, until of course he keeps his word and finds her once again. 

 Anakin’s eyes fall back down to her lips before he collects them with his in a searing kiss, the kindling of a promise left in his mouth’s wake when he pulls away. 

 “We will see one another again,” he murmurs and she believes him. She knows he will keep his word. “And perhaps, we will meet even sooner than you think.”

 Blue swarms and begins to morph into an angry, fiery red and she is once again back in Mustafar, staring at Anakin but not Anakin again. Sometimes when she thinks her Anakin Skywalker is truly lost, she need only remember those tender words he had said to her, the last time she saw him as he once was. She will then look at Darth Vader and tell herself that all hope is not lost. Darth Vader will say that Anakin Skywalker is dead, but she knows it is not true. 

 Because Anakin Skywalker once told her that even in death, he would claw his way out of the very earth to find her. 

 “Something troubles you,” she whispers and Darth Vader does not move but his eyes do. His blazing gaze falls to her lips, down her arms, all the way to her hands. She follows their trail and knows what it is he must crave. Sometimes when she thinks she must be afraid of him, she reminds herself that this is only a boy who is lost, misguided. She wonders, she hopes, if in time, he can be guided back onto the right path again. 

 Her hands move to find one of his, his left, where she knows she will still find flesh underneath. She glances back up at him to find he is staring at their connected hands, lips pursed, waiting for her to continue. She sucks in a breath and pinches the tip of his glove at the middle finger, slowly, cautiously pulling it away from his hand. Her palm circles to cradle the back of his hand and while he does not shiver, the locking of his jaw does not go unnoticed. 

 Even after all this time, he still craves for touch, her touch, and her skin on his. It makes her wonder if he still thinks about it too, all their secret rendezvous, their nights of passion, bodies tangled together with only the moons as their witness. She wonders if he still remembers the words he used to always say to her, the tender, sweet little nothings he’d whisper in her ear, the promises for a better future he made woven in the tendrils of her hair. If he still thinks back to that day she last saw him as Anakin Skywalker, if he still remembers the words he told her. 

 She thinks he must, because he still fulfilled his promise: he came back, no matter what. Only not the same, but perhaps more of the same than she initially thought. She sees the locking of his jaw, his craving for her touch he dare not speak aloud and thinks maybe it could be true. 

 “Let me help you,” she says, because she knows he has no desire to speak. Darth Vader lifts his gaze to find she is already staring back as she brings his hand up to her face, cupping her cheek. The pad of his thumb subconsciously soothes over her bottom lip and she shivers, the tenderness of his touch a stark contrast to his demeanor. She knows what she is offering is only a temporary fix, but it is a start, and it is an understanding she didn’t quite have before. 

 He still craves for her, he still wants her. She doesn’t know if she can call what they have love, not anymore, but there is still a want. She thinks that maybe this is her Anakin slipping through the cracks. She decides to hold onto this sliver all that she can. 

 She presses her lips gently against his thumb, maintaining eye contact all the while, unwilling to break it. The blazing amber in his eyes intensifies and in an instant, his lips are on hers, replacing his thumb. She releases a mixture of a yelp and a moan into his mouth, letting his tongue scour her, devouring her. He seeks to conquer her but he still kisses her with desperation, almost insecurely, but not like he’s unsure. It’s more like he’s waiting for her to push him away, to curse and spit at him like he believes (and perhaps, does) deserve. 

 But she doesn’t. How could she? It’s hard to differentiate Darth Vader from Anakin Skywalker when they are one in the same, even while being entirely different. He still feels like her Anakin, he still shares the same shell as her Anakin. He kisses her with a mixture of Darth Vader and just the tiniest fraction of Anakin Skywalker but he is there, he is still there. 

 So she presses herself further into him. His right hand finds the small of her back and presses her further into him, his kiss more determined, his touch more certain. She pants against his mouth as he uses his left hand to unclip his cape, the heavy material falling in a heap on the floor behind him. She feels the shoulders of her dress slipping down her arms but does not feel his hands there and knows he is using the Force on her. It alights a new sort of blaze she’s never felt before between her legs and as his left hand grips her chin and his kisses trail down to her jaw, she burns brighter than ever before. 

 Her eyes are screwed shut as he sucks angry marks to the line of her jaw, her fingers holding on tightly to his sleeves. She thinks she hears the door slide open behind them but the invisible hand working at her clothes unties the knot at the small of her back and Darth’s teeth sink into her collarbone so she does not care. Her head tilts back and she hears the faint sound of footsteps retreating, the door sliding back closed, once again leaving them alone. 

 “An… Ana…” she hears herself begin to pant but knows it is a mistake as soon as he pulls away from her altogether, her body, now nude, feeling cold with the lack of his against it. She peels open her lids and shudders where she stands as his gaze pierces through her as if it intended to melt her to the very ground she stood on. She thinks she very well can but she knows there is no use of running so she stays, awaiting her fate. 

 “The name you call is not mine,” Darth speaks and he reaches out with a hand, his left, and her body is not her own anymore and her mind flashes back to the day where he found her, when he used this very power on her to strip her of her own will. She presses her lips together as the Force brings her down to her knees, the ground biting into her bare skin. She does not cry, does not even struggle. She simply waits— she’s already offered herself to him and she knows that he will not hurt her. He cannot afford to. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself without her. Because Anakin is still there. There is still someone inside of him that loves her. “It’d serve you well to forget that man, because he is gone. Dead. I want to hear you say my name. I want to hear you scream it until hell fears me.”

 She hates the effect he has on her. She can feel herself pulse between her legs and she inhales, fluttering her eyes closed at how pathetic she must seem. Still wanting this dangerous, nefarious man. The man who murdered her uncle. The man who murdered her entire family. But yet, still the man who said he would cheat death to keep her safe. 

 Darth’s gaze intensifies and she feels a prodding in her mind, encouraging her, no, commanding her to comply. She gulps, and then, “Darth.”

 The invisible finger toying with the outside of her mind crawls away and her body once again feels like it is her own but still, she stays in her place on her knees on the floor. Darth Vader’s footsteps echo the room as he steps forward until he towers above her. She peers up at him through her lashes, watches as he crouches, pinching her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his gloved hand. 

 “Obedient girl,” he remarks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip. “You will not defy me, lest you wish for it to be the last thing you do.”

 Her head nods before can even begin to think. She knows she would’ve complied regardless. The ache between her legs wouldn’t allow her to act otherwise. It was disgusting, lusting after this man who swears he will be her demise. But he has a way of making her insatiable, unlike herself.

 “Good,” he says before he pulls away and she watches as he circles the center of the room, setting himself down into the throne in the middle, legs spread, waiting. “Undress me.”

 She gulps down another moan, the words alone making her stomach somersault. She wastes no time to pick herself off of the floor, painfully aware of how naked she is as she makes her way over to where he sits. Even sitting on his throne, he is still bigger, still stronger than her. She feels meek, small against him as she begins with the shoulders of his armor, finding his eyes as she removes it, piece by piece. He taps his fingers against the arms of his seat as she unbuttons his tunic and before she can move to slide it down his arms, he waves a finger and her hands find his belt without their own accord. 

 She doesn’t move for a movement, only stares at him as he gazes back. He cocks an eyebrow, the one pierced with a scar, expectantly and she inhales sharply, her gaze sliding from his face down to his exposed, toned chest as she begins working at his belt. She tosses it away along with the heap of clothes on the floor and unbuttons his trousers, feeling her center throb at just how close she is to seeing what it desires. Her tongue swipes between her lips as she frees his cock from his pants, her breath hitching as she blinks at the angry pink tip peeking from his waistband. 

 “You test the limits of my patience,” Darth Vader says in an annoyed, clipped tone. “My cock will be your throne, but only if you make haste.”

 She blinks again and she feels a ball of acid at the base of her throat as she tugs his pants all the way down to his knees, finally allowing his cock to spring free. She can’t help but gawk, even if she’s already seen it more times than she can count. It’s large to say the very least and it is hard, ready, eager for her. She recalls just how large it is whenever she’s had it in her mouth, how each and every vein of it feels when it is buried so deeply inside of her. Sometimes, she can’t believe that it is all hers to have. Sometimes, she doesn’t feel worthy of it. 

 She realizes she is testing his patience again, only when she feels that invisible hand wrap around her throat, her own subconsciously reaching for them, although they are not there. Breath is stolen from her and she knits her brows together, mumbling a tight apology. 

 “You are merely fortunate that I am not in the mood for games today,” he says and the Force brings her forwards, her knees hitting his. He leans towards her until their faces are mere inches away, his breath rolling like smoke over her cheeks. “So do not push my mercy any further. Sit on my cock.”

 She feels every syllable of his last sentence in her core and the invisible hand remains on her throat as she manages to bring herself closer, her knees on either side of his thighs. He does not touch her, merely watches as she struggles to align his head with her center. When she finally does, he uses this invisible grip on her throat to push her down before releasing her altogether and she gasps for breath, eyes rolling back into her head, her head tipping towards the ceiling as a moan rips from her throat. 

 She can feel every pulsing vein of his cock against her walls, can feel her delicate cervix being bullied by his angry tip. Her hands search for his shoulders and when they do, her nails dig into the sleeves of his tunic, the bitter sting of tears escaping the edges of her eyes. 

 Darth hisses through his teeth and his left hand finds her hip, his skin warm against hers where it kneads. A curse tumbles past his lips and his other hand, still gloved, weaves through her hair, forces her forehead down onto his. She opens her eyes and sees his glaring gaze piercing through to her own. 

 “I don’t know how you do this to me,” he snarls. “I don’t know how only you have this effect on me. Only you can make me feel like this. Only you can make me…” Darth is unable to control himself so he snaps his hips up into her and she cries, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “…fuck!” He howls, tossing his head back against his throne. “You are destroying me. It’s not fair. How are you doing this to me?”

 He says this last thing with a hint of a vulnerability she’s never heard from him before. It’s almost desperate, like she really, truly is destroying him, paining him. It’s hard for her to try and understand what this means when he is fucking her into a state of mind-numbingness, but there is only one thing, one word, one name that she can even think of. 

 “Darth!” She screeches but it is not the name she thinks of. She thinks of Anakin, how perhaps this, she is the key to freeing Anakin Skywalker from the mask of Darth Vader. Because this, this Darth Vader is but a mere facade— they both know it to be true. It is not who he truly is. He can try and deny it all he wants. But there is nowhere in the entire galaxy where he can hide that she won’t find him. Because he is and will always be Anakin Skywalker. 

 She knows that Darth Vader will try and fight it. He will tear down the entire galaxy before he admits it. He will destroy planets and will bring down entire monarchies before he admits it. He will kill and he will burn and he will destroy before he admits it. But not even that will be enough to hide from it, to run from it. Because she is Darth Vader’s destiny. She is Anakin Skywalker’s destiny. She will be Darth Vader’s destruction. And she will be Anakin Skywalker’s redemption. 

 She is the key to bringing Anakin Skywalker home. 

a/n: another long one for anakin 🤭 i absolutely love writing for him, he's so complex and so fun to explore and create headcanons of my own for. i hope i was able to do him at least a little bit of justice here. sorry if this seemed a little too slow burn and if there wasn't enough smut to suffice 😭 i went in like "oh yeah this is gonna be absolutely filthy" but oh well! i find i write a little easier when i go in without much of a plan lol since i get carried away easily and usually just let my thumbs do whatever the hell they want anyways 😭 anywho! thank you so much for reading! it always warms my heart to know my writing is being seen by others! 🥹🫶

psst, i also want to thank each and every single one of you who read a place in the sea of stars. i was not expecting the feedback that fic received and i am still so overwhelmed by all the love all this time later. thank you thank you thank you a million times over from the bottom of my heart. 🥹🫶

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@johnbassplayercutie

@arisksywlkr

@sydkneez

@sunnytotheend

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Stars Collide; Stars Crossed: chapter III

Summary: Din and his partner, along with the droid and the Child, find themselves in a tense standoff with the guild leader Greef Karga. With blasters drawn, they stand united to protect the Child at all costs.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

previous | next

The ramp of the Mandalorian's ship descends with a soft hiss, the metal grating against the floor of the docking bay. As you step onto the vessel, cradling the Child in your arms, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washes over you.

Beeb rolls onto the ship, his sensors flickering as he scans the surroundings for any signs of danger. The dim lighting of the ship's interior casts a warm glow over the scene, creating a cocoon of safety amidst the chaos of the galaxy.

The Mandalorian walks closely behind you, his gloved hand positioned protectively near the small of your back. He guides you into the ship, his presence a reassuring anchor in all this chaos.

With the Child held protectively against your chest, you make your way through the ship's corridor, guided by the Mandalorian. The Child's head rests against your shoulder, his tiny fingers curling against your clothing. You can feel his steady breaths, a soothing rhythm that lulls your weary heart.

The familiarity of your lightsaber's hilt in your hand brings a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty. The events of the past hours replay in your mind. Escaping the ambush by the other bounty hunters and the guild leader. A surge of the Force wraps around you, a sudden influx of heightened awareness that jolts you to a stop. Without hesitation, almost as if guided by instinct, you draw the Mandalorian's blaster from its holster and pivot, aiming it at the intruder positioned behind you and the Mandalorian.

Your eyes lock onto the figure behind you, and recognition dawns as you identify him as Greef Karga, the guild leader who had orchestrated the ambush.

Greef Karga stands there, his own weapon raised and trained on you. His face is a mask of determination, his lips pressed into a thin line, "I didn't want it to come to this."

The tense standoff between you, the Mandalorian, and Greef Karga hangs heavily in the air. The ship's corridor seems to narrow, the walls closing in around you as the three of you face each other, weapons drawn.

Your grip on the blaster remains steady, your fingers positioned with practiced precision. Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins, but your mind is clear, your focus unwavering.

Without a word, the Mandalorian subtly positions himself slightly in front of you, his body language a clear display of his readiness to defend. The hard, reflective surface of his beskar armor glints in the dim light.

Beeb emits a low whir, his form shifting slightly as he positions himself to the side. The droid never one to shy away from danger, emits a low hum as his optic sensors narrow in on Greef Karga.

The Mandalorian's voice is a low rumble, a warning laced with an underlying threat. "You're outnumbered, Karga."

Greef Karga's gaze flickers between you, the Mandalorian, and the Child nestled in your arms. His resolve seems to waver for a split second, but he quickly regains his composure.

"Skywalker, Mando, last warning. Hand over the child," Greef Karga's voice is firm, a mix of authority and desperation. You hold the Child closer to you, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. His small form feels fragile against your chest, and your resolve to keep him safe strengthens.

"We won't hand over the Child," you reply, your voice steady and resolute. "He's not a bounty. He's a life, and he's under our protection."

You hold the eye of the guild leader, your gaze unwavering as you assert your stance. The seconds stretch on, each heartbeat a drumming reminder of the tension that hangs in the air.

The Mandalorian's hand, which was previously resting on the small of your back, now rests on your waist and tightens from the side, his fingers curling possessively against the fabric of your clothing. You can feel the tension in his touch, a silent promise that he won't let any harm come to either of you.

Greef Karga's face contorted with frustration, his finger twitching on the trigger of his blaster. "You're making a mistake, Skywalker. The Empire will stop at nothing to get that child back." "The Empire that crumbled four years ago. I'm intimately aware; my brother, sister, and I played pivotal roles in its downfall," you assert, your voice carrying a mix of conviction and memories.

"The Empire may have fallen, but its remnants still linger," Greef Karga retorts, his voice tinged with bitterness. "There are those who would pay dearly for the Child."

Your gaze doesn't waver, your eyes locked onto Greef Karga's. "And we're prepared to protect him, no matter the cost."

As the standoff intensifies, a sudden distraction erupts to your left. Din Djarin, the Mandalorian, reacts with lightning speed, striking a panel on his left side with his fiber cord whip. The impact causes sparks to fly, followed by billowing clouds of smoke that engulf the corridor.

The smoke creates a shroud of confusion, obscuring your vision and disorienting both you and Greef Karga. You can hear Beeb emitting concerned whirs as his sensors try to pierce through the haze, and you tighten your grip on the Child, ensuring his safety.

You stumble slightly as the Mandalorian pulls you to safety, his beskar-clad form shielding you from the barrage of blaster fire.

The blaster shots echo through the smoke, each bolt of energy a deadly threat. Your heart pounds in your chest as you hold the Child close, your instincts and training kicking in. The Mandalorian's strong presence beside you provides a sense of security amidst the chaos.

Through the haze, you catch a glimpse of Greef Karga's form, his silhouette shifting and moving as he tries to locate his targets. The sound of blaster fire and the sharp smell of scorched metal fill the air, creating a tense and frantic atmosphere.

As blaster fire continues to streak through the smoke-filled corridor, you feel a firm hand on your wrist. The Mandalorian's gloved fingers wrap around your hand that currently holds the blaster, his firm yet reassuring.

His strong grip on your hand guides your aim, and with a quick pull of the trigger, a blaster bolt streaks through the smoke-filled corridor.

The shot pierces through the smoke, finding its mark on Greef Karga. The force of the blast sends him stumbling backward, his blaster falling from his grip as he crashes into the wall.

The impact causes Greef Karga to go flying out of the docking bay, his body carried by the force of the shot. The metal ramp of the ship clangs shut behind him, sealing the ship's interior from the outside.

The smoke begins to dissipate, revealing the aftermath of the confrontation. You stand there, the blaster still in your hand, your chest rising and falling with adrenaline. The Mandalorian doesn't pull away, his gaze fixed on the sealed ramp.

Beeb's sensors flicker, the droid emitting a mixture of relief and concern. He rolls closer to your side, his chirps and whirs filled with a combination of questions and reassurance. "Mama, you okay? Baby okay?"

You glance down at the small droid, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "We're both okay, Beeb," you assure him gently. "Thanks to the Mandalorian's quick thinking, we managed to get rid of the threat."

The Mandalorian moves to stand in front of you, his hands finding their way to your shoulders as if to offer silent support. Despite the tension and danger that had just unfolded, there's a quiet sense of unity between you.

"Are you hurt?" The Mandalorian's voice is gruff, but there's an unmistakable concern beneath the words.

You shake your head, still holding the blaster in your hand, and offer him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Thanks to you."

The Mandalorian nods his beskar-clad form a shield against the outside world. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he turns to face the control panel beside the ramp.

"We gotta get out of here," you say, your voice carrying a sense of urgency.

With the threat of Greef Karga neutralized you know that staying in the docking bay is not an option. The situation could escalate further, and you need to prioritize the safety of the Child.

The Mandalorian nods, "Come on, we need to get to the cockpit." The urgency in his voice matches your own as he gestures toward the ladder that leads upward.

"Wait." You walk closer to the Mandalorian, your movements deliberate and determined.

As you reach him, you gently place his blaster back into its holster, your fingers brushing against the cool metal. The touch is brief, but the connection between you is palpable, a silent communication that speaks volumes.

His helmeted gaze remains fixed on you, the intensity of his presence almost tangible. You can't see his eyes, but you feel his focus, his unwavering attention on you.

"Thank you for having my back," you say softly, your voice carrying a warmth that matches the gratitude in your eyes.

The Mandalorian's response is a slight nod, a small acknowledgment of your words.

"We make a good team," he replies, his voice steady and filled with a sense of partnership.

You offer him a smile, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. "Yes, we do. Now come on."

Beeb rolls ahead of you two, as he nears the ladder, he turns to you with a series of electronic chirps and beeps, clearly indicating that he's ready to assist. You chuckle softly, appreciating the droid's eagerness to help. "How's your droid getting into the cockpit?" the Mandalorian questions, his helmeted gaze shifting between you and Beeb.

You pause, then shift your gaze toward the Mandalorian, a warm smile gracing your lips. "Like this," you say, your voice carrying a playful undertone.

With a playful glint in your eyes, you extend your hand toward Beeb, palm facing upward. The Force responds to your command, a gentle push that lifts Beeb off the ground. The droid hovers momentarily before gliding gracefully up the ladder, its spherical form rolling smoothly step by step until it reaches the cockpit entrance.

The Mandalorian's helmeted head turns to follow the droid's progress, and you can almost sense his surprise and curiosity beneath the beskar.

"Well, that's one way to do it," he remarks with a hint of admiration in his voice.

You chuckle softly, the tension of the earlier confrontation starting to ebb away as the adrenaline fades. "Resourcefulness is key," you reply, your voice light. You cast your gaze towards the ladder, only to realize that climbing it while still holding the Child is not an easy option. Your eyes then shift back to the Mandalorian, a trace of uncertainty evident in your expression.

"Here," the Mandalorian offers, his voice a low rumble, extending his arms slightly. "Give me the Child."

You carefully transfer the Child into his waiting arms, the tiny being resting against his chest within the protective cocoon of his beskar armor.

The Child's head rests against the Mandalorian's chest plate, and you catch a glimpse of his tiny green ears poking out from beneath the hood of his robe. You offer the Mandalorian a grateful smile, appreciating his willingness to help. With the Child in his capable arms, you can see the gentleness in his otherwise stern demeanor as he cradles the youngling.

Once the Child is secure, you take a step closer to the ladder, ready to follow Beeb and the Mandalorian to the cockpit. Beeb's electronic noises echo from the cockpit entrance, and you know that the droid is ready and waiting for you.

With a renewed determination, you ascend the ladder, the Mandalorian following closely behind you, his precious cargo held securely against him.

As you reach the top of the ladder, the cockpit opens up before you, a view of the star-studded expanse of space stretching out beyond the transparisteel windows. Beeb's presence is immediately evident, his spherical form perched near the pilot's seat, his sensors engaged and ready for action.

You step into the cockpit, feeling a rush of familiarity as you take in the array of controls and displays. Beeb emits a series of beeps as if welcoming you to the command center of the ship. "This ship is pretty old, Mama. Wonder if Uncle Luke would be jealous that I got to ride in something this vintage," Beeb chirps in its characteristic electronic tones, its spherical form emitting a sense of innocent curiosity.

You can't help but smile at Beeb's comment. "I think Uncle Luke would be quite impressed with your choice of transportation," you reply with a chuckle, your gaze shifting from the droid to the starry expanse before you.

The Mandalorian enters the cockpit behind you, his presence filling the small space. He positions himself near you, the Child still held safely in his arms.

With a nod of gratitude, you take the Child back into your arms from the Mandalorian. The little being stirs slightly, his ears twitching before he settles again, seemingly comforted by your presence.

As you hold the Child against you once again, a warmth fills your heart. His tiny hand reaches up and rests on your chest, his serene face illuminated by a soft glow from the console. You press a soft kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you'll always keep him safe.

The Mandalorian watches you with a mixture of intrigue and something deeper that his helmet obscures. His gloved hand lingers on your arm for a moment longer before he steps back slightly, giving you both some space.

"Strap in," the Mandalorian's voice breaks the momentary silence, his practicality cutting through the emotions that have swirled around you. You nod in acknowledgment, grateful for his reminder. With the Child in your arms, you carefully make your way to one of the unoccupied seats in the cockpit. Beeb emits a series of beeps, seemingly excited by the impending takeoff.

As you settle into the seat, you secure the safety straps around yourself and the Child, ensuring that he's snug and protected. The Mandalorian takes his position at the ship's controls, his gloved fingers deftly navigating the various buttons and switches. As the ship starts its ascent, you're enveloped in a sense of weightlessness that seems to slow down time. The gentle vibration of the engine thrums through the seat beneath you, creating a comforting rhythm that matches the steady beat of your heart. Your grip on the Child tightens instinctively, a protective gesture that you don't even realize you're making.

Beside you, Beeb emits a series of electronic chirps, almost like an excited countdown to departure. The droid's presence is a reassuring constant, a reminder that you're not alone in this journey. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you can't help but smile at his eagerness.

The Mandalorian's focus remains on the ship's controls, his gloved fingers moving with practiced grace as he adjusts the ship's trajectory.

Despite the urgency of your situation, his movements are deliberate and measured, a testament to his skill as a pilot. You steal a glance at his helmeted profile, wondering about the man beneath the beskar armor and the stories that lie hidden there.

As your gaze shifted from the Mandalorian to the out and beyond the window, you were captivated by a sight that momentarily startled you. A Mandalorian donning a jet pack soared through the sky, beside the ship.

Your Mandalorian counterpart also gazes towards the Mandalorian flying outside. The two of you maintain your gaze on the Mandalorian as he soars through the sky.

The airborne Mandalorian offers a salute in your direction, a gesture that might be intended for your Mandalorian companion. With that, he takes off and gradually fades from sight as he disappears into the clouds.

"I gotta get one of those," the Mandalorian's voice breaks the silence, his helmeted head tilting slightly as he watches the fading figure in the sky and then turns back to face forward.

You can't help but chuckle softly, the sound echoing through the cockpit. "Jet packs do seem pretty handy," you reply with a playful smile, your eyes dancing with amusement. "But you've already got that beskar armor. I'd say you're not lacking in cool gear."

The Mandalorian's helmeted head turns towards you, the dim glow of the cockpit reflecting off the smooth surface of his helmet. "Beskar's good, but a jet pack looks better." You laugh softly, the conversation between you and the Mandalorian warming the atmosphere in the cockpit. "Well, maybe you'll get your chance to try one out someday."

The Mandalorian's voice carries a hint of longing as he responds, "Maybe. But for now, I've got my hands full with this little one." He gestures subtly to the Child nestled in your arms, his tiny form wrapped in the folds of his robe.

"So where are we headed?" you ask, your voice carrying a mix of curiosity and readiness for whatever lies ahead.

The Mandalorian's gaze remains fixed on the controls, his voice steady as he replies, "Somewhere safe, somewhere off the grid. I know a few places that might provide refuge."

"Sounds like a good plan," you respond, nodding in agreement. "Somewhere away from prying eyes and potential threats."

The Mandalorian's gloved fingers continue to move deftly across the controls, his focus unwavering. The ship glides smoothly through space, the stars outside the window creating a mesmerizing backdrop to your conversation.

"You know," you begin, your voice thoughtful, "I've heard stories about Mandalorians being warriors without equal, but I never imagined I'd meet one like you."

The Mandalorian's helmeted head turns slightly in your direction, his visor reflecting the ambient light in the cockpit. "There are many like me," he replies.

"True, but you're the one who's chosen to take in the Child," you point out. "To protect him at all costs. That's something special."

The Mandalorian's silence is telling, his acknowledgment of your words apparent even without seeing his face. While you and the Mandalorian continue your conversation, you decide to gently release the Child from your arms as he's now awake. Lowering the youngling to the ground, you notice that Beeb has found a cozy spot and drifted off to sleep.

Your attention briefly turns to the droid, a small smile gracing your lips at the sight. Beeb's trust and comfort within the ship's cockpit is evident, and you're grateful for the droid's companionship.

Unbeknownst to you, as your gaze rests on Beeb, the Child takes advantage of the moment and begins to waddle across the cockpit floor. His tiny form toddles purposefully towards the Mandalorian, his hands reaching out with a mixture of curiosity and determination.

The Child's gaze fixates on a lever near the control panel, his green ears perking up with interest. His small gremlin-like hands reach out, the lever's shiny surface capturing his attention. Mando, observing the Child's curiosity, extends his arm and unscrews the shiny ball on top of the lever. He places it gently into the Child's small hand, then returns his attention to the face ahead, allowing the Child to do his own thing.

The Child, holding the small ball in his tiny hand, toddles toward you with a determined gait. He looks up at you with wide, curious eyes and raises his arms, a silent request for you to pick him up. You can feel the Child's curiosity and excitement through the Force, his innocent thoughts and emotions intertwined with your own. As he toddles toward you, you can't help but smile, completely in sync with his intentions.

You reach down and scoop the Child into your arms, his small hands resting against your chest as he snuggles close. His presence in your mind is a warm and comforting sensation, like a gentle whisper of trust and affection.

"Are you having fun with it, little one?" you murmur softly, your voice a gentle caress that only he can hear.

The Child's response comes in the form of a series of contented coos and babbling sounds. His tiny fingers wrap around your clothing, and his head nestles against your shoulder.

The events of the day have been a whirlwind—danger, confrontation, and moments of unexpected connection. Amidst the chaos of the galaxy, you've found an unlikely ally in the Mandalorian, a warrior who has chosen a path of protection and guardianship.

With the Child nestled against you, his steady breaths a soothing rhythm, you realize that you're not just a Jedi, not just a guardian of the Force. You're a protector, a caregiver, and a beacon of light in a galaxy that still struggles to find its way.

And as the ship continues its journey through the stars, you hold the Child a little closer, your heart filled with a sense of purpose and the knowledge that, no matter what challenges arise, you're ready to face them head-on.

Tag list: @babygirlrex0504 @alienated-green-tea @fatima-marisa @dindjarindude @sharin1806 @ruthyalva96 @avengersfan25 @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @the-anchored-sailor-girl @erissco @vintageoldfashion

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[saintfaux]

[tootiredtobekind]

[colmiillo]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[bethsvrse]

me staring at my ceiling after y/n does the most FLABBERGASTING thing ever

[babymangosworld]

Me when y/n is acting like a little fucking child for male validation

[starrdream]

Years

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Anakin sees you for the first time after a decade includes: SMUT, oral(f receiving), slight praise

Months turned into years-ones that seemed to last longer than they should, ones that stretched beyond time. He hadn't forgotten. No. He couldn't and he simply never will. That was something he made peace with long before it was over.

How could he? How does one forget something so pure, innocent and beautiful? How could he erase the happiest memories that could never be remade?

Every detail was crystal clear in his mind. Partially because he kept replaying various situations in his head every night, partially because he couldn't forget.

And even if he could, why would he? Why would he forget those eyes full of life? The laughter? The things he felt? No, he definitely didn't want to forget that.

Anakin Skywalker's life had been haunted by the past for the last 11 years. 11 years of melancholy, 11 years of longing, yearning...

So seeing you again was like a punch to the gut.

The small and rebellious Senator's daughter was no more. She was long gone, together with Anakin's memories. Instead she was replaced by something even more beautiful and dear.

You were the same age as him, yet so much more mature, more serious than him. He didn't want to acknowledge your beauty in fear of betraying what the Jedi had been teaching him for the last decade.

He never would've thought you'd be back but there you were, walking into the Jedi Temple with your father and a few guards on each side of you.

He was breathless, standing on one of the balconies as Snips talked his ear off.

"Ooo, who's that? She's pretty." She interrupts herself mid sentence, leaning against the railing and looks down at you.

"Yeah-I...I don't know." Anakin fumbled. "Let's go back to training."

"Whatever, you're so annoying." She rolls her eyes.

The next few hours are a blur-he was preoccupied but constantly thinking of you. His mind was a mess and he ended his lightsaber technique session with Ahsoka early.

The poor boy sat down in one of the many benches that filled the halls and leaned his head back against the cool tile walls. He takes a deep breath and relaxes further as the sun illuminates his face.

Seconds later, his peace is interrupted by a door opening and slamming shut. He cracks his eyes open, wincing slightly as they adjust to the sun.

His breath catches and he sits up straight because you come out the seemingly occupied room. His eyes widen in awe but you don't seem to notice him, not at first.

Just a few seconds later your eyes meet and he stands up before he could even think.

"Ani?" You whisper-shouted. "My goodness!" You smiled.

"Y/n.." He mumbled, smiling softly himself. "I missed you..."

The minute he's close to you, you hug him tight, burying your head in his shoulder as you practically knock the air out of his lungs.

"My, my..." He chuckles, hugging you back with a little less intensity, afraid he'll hurt you. "What're you here for?" He pulls away, keeping his shaky hands on your upper arms.

"My dad was called for some negotiations and decided to bring me along. Perfect opportunity to look at houses." You shrugged.

His eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry, houses?"

"We're probably gonna move back." You shrug happily.

His mouth drops open before he smiles so brightly and happily. "You're joking." Anakin shook his head. This was the moment he didn't even want to imagine in fear of waking up disappointed because it's not real.

"I'm serious!" You nudge him playfully. "I have to go now, but feel free to come by the guest rooms tonight if you wanna catch up."

And just like that you were pulling away like you did all those years ago, hurriedly walking off to wherever you were going.

"May the force be with you!" He called out to you.

"May the force be with you too!"

Anakin stood there stunned for a good minute before deciding to go back to his room and finish what he had left to do, all while grinning to himself like an idiot.

Each minute that passed until he could see you again felt like a minute closer to his prayers being answered. And in some ways, they were.

Because 4 hours after first seeing you, Anakin was kissing his way down your body. His hands grope your tits as he trails further south, kissing under your chest, your stomach, your hip and finally latching his mouth onto your center.

His hands find their way to your hips to keep you in place.

Slowly, he licks all the way up, nose is rubbing against your clit. Your hands immediately reach for his hair, gently wrapping your fingers around the soft curls.

"Anakin-" You breathe out, back arching. He gently lifts your thighs and carefully places them over his strong shoulders.

"Mmm..." He hums against you "You're doing so good baby..." He mumbles, the sound muffled.

Your hands tighten, pulling his hair in desperation for more.

"My favorite Senator.." He teased, chuckling against you and making you squirm.

"Ani.." You whined, pulling his head closer despite your protest seconds prior.

His hands are doing a great job at stimulating you further-rubbing your thighs and stomach. Gently, almost innocently, Anakin's thumb makes it's way to your clit-rubbing slow, yet firm circles in time with his tongue.

You squirm above him, walls clenching around his tongue. "A-ani..gonna cum.." You rasp out.

"Mhm.." He encouragess, tone pleased and pace not faltering for a second.

A moment later, your inner thighs are squeezing his head as you whimper repeatedly and desperately, coming undone on his tongue.

Anakin takes his sweet time in prolonging your pleasure, lazily suckling and kissing on you without a care in the world. And when he does pull away, he wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. Then, he throws himself on top of you and kisses you sensless before falling asleep cuddled up on your chest

A/N: May the fourth be with everyone reading this!!! I’ve decided to take a break until June first because i REALLY need to lock in and study I have a bazillion tests coming up😭😭. I’ll try my best to make time and post at least a few works but no promises.

As for when I do get back, I have a new series coming up..👀

[theshamelesssimp]

When you're reading a fanfic and suddenly the reader has a name

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[that1nerd-20]

When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

[vinamari]

How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst