#skywalker!reader

[writing-red]

23

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

A/N: Two fics in one month? Inconceivable

Summary: This takes place during the Rise of Skywalker around when Leia dies. Her niece is on base when she dies, and Poe returns from Endor to find her in mourning.

Request: SkywalkerReader! Reacting to Leia’s death and Poe comforting her?

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: I cried while writing this, so that doesn’t exactly bode well

* * *

Y/n Skywalker, the only daughter of The Last Jedi. 

When her cousin destroyed the Jedi Temple, and her father left, her Aunt Leia took her in; she was 16. However, Leia had been acting as Y/n's mother figure for as long as she could remember, as her mom had died in childbirth, and Luke had never felt as if he could take care of Y/n on his own. In fact, at the Battle of Crait, when her father's figure appeared, he offered more attention to the resistance soldiers than to her.

Leia had both raised her and trained her in the ways of the Jedi. She meant the world to Y/n. Leia was the reason that Y/n never turned to the dark side.

So when somebody came into the makeshift base hospital on Ajan Kloss where you were on bed rest by her order, waiting for a leg wound to heal, bearing the news of her aunt's death, you threw a Kylo Ren sized fit. Same tree, similar apple, right?

“Colonel Skywalker? Are you awake?”

“I am now,” You sat up and immediately, dread washed over you. You could feel the loss of Leia in the universe, you could sense her death, yet still, you asked...

“What happened?” “The General- Your aunt, she’s dead.”

You couldn’t feel the burns and deep cuts on your leg any longer; you couldn’t feel anything. Suddenly to the poor captain in front of you, you looked strikingly akin to your cousin. You rose out of the bed and approached him.

“Did no one think to retrieve me before she departed?” “Y/n-”

“Colonel.” “Colonel, I can’t explain it, it has something to do with the force. But she just walked away and all of a sudden-” “Leave.” “I’m sorry? Colonel-” “I said leave.”

Unlike your cousin, you didn’t need to yell or make some sort of flash of anger to scare somebody; it merely took a look and the right tone. However, this wasn’t something you felt equipped to handle. First came your uncle’s death, then your fathers, both of which you were prepared for in some sense. But Leia’s? You should have been able to say goodbye, you could have helped, you could have done something, but nobody came to get you. You needed her, you didn’t know who you were without her around to help you. After who knows how much time brooding you stormed out into the woods of Ajan Closs.

Your mind was flashing with visions of a planet or a moon you hadn’t seen before, an ocean, some sort of star destroyer, of Rey, of Ben, and of your grandfather. Your face was streaming with tears you weren’t even aware of. You couldn’t feel. You were so angry, with yourself, with your aunt, and your cousin. You felt the grief and pain as the last piece of family you had was ripped away from you. The anger was over taking you and you could only imagine that this was how Ben felt on that fateful night.

You had been fighting this darkness for who knows how long. It has been eating away at you. From the visions, to Kylo Rens appearances to her at night trying to pull you to the dark side.

Unbeknownst after making your way to some clearing, you started taking down trees, throwing rocks, stopping rain, and starting it back up again. You were taking out your anger on the nature that lied before you. It was its own poor luck for being there. You fought the elements for what could have easily been hours, and eventually, you dropped cold in a ring of fire.

* * *

You awoke in a bed that wasn’t yours, not one in the hospital but in one of the residential buildings on the base. Everything hurt; it desperately reminded you of training. 

“Y/n?” 

It was Poe’s voice that called your name as your eyes fluttered open.

You were choked by tears when you saw his face. You could see the pain that engulfed him not only from the news but at the sight of you.

You were sure that you looked worse than how he had left you which was saying something.

He was sitting in a little chair next to the bed, his bed, that you were lying on.

“Y/n. Chewie, Finn, and I found you in the woods after we landed, you were in this clearing, and you were, or, are really banged up. What happened? Was there some sort of invasion?” You knew he was asking to give you a reason to explain, of course there was no invasion he would have already heard.

“Poe, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her gone.” You didn’t know what else to say. You had neither the will nor the energy to ignore what you were going through. This wasn’t the same as your father's death; this was far worse. 

“Does it make it worse or better to say I don’t know?” He asked with kind eyes.

He stood and gestured for you to sit up. He proceeded to sit so that you could lay your head on his lap.

“Both?”

He gave you a little chuckle.

“It’s not easy, I know, but you have to know that the last thing she wants is for you to destroy yourself.”

“Of course, but how? She’s the thing that kept me together Poe.” “We’ve got each other, that’s how. You aren’t alone, Y/n, you’ve got Rey, Finn, me. We don’t give up on this because she’s dead. And even then, you know better than anyone she isn’t really dead. She lives on in the force.”

“Poe, since when were you such a strong believer in the force?” “Since you showed me. Y/n no matter what happens, I am here for you.”

“And, what happens if I turn into Ben? Without her here to guide me, to keep me from turning away from the light.”

You had been dreading this day ever since the day your father tried to kill your cousin, your twenty-third birthday. It was Ben Solo’s twenty-third birthday the day he became Kylo Ren, the day your grandfather and the darkness took over. Not only was today your twenty-third but it was three days after Ben’s. Leia knew you worried for this day, and she always reassured you that you were strong in the light and that you wouldn’t stray.

“What I did last night in that clearing, I didn’t know I possessed such darkness.”

“That wasn’t darkness that was suffering.” “Ben was suffering and look at what he did. The people he murdered-” “But you’re here right now, aren’t you? In my arms. You aren’t with the First Order or on Exegol with the Sith. You are here, Y/n,” He saw a look on your face he had seen many times since getting to know you. “You aren’t your family. Not Darth Vader, Kylo Ren, or even Luke. Y/n, you may be a Skywalker, but you make your own legacy.”

“Kiss me, Dameron,” you said and angled yourself up so that he could fulfill your request, which he did.

You both shared your mourning and pain in that kiss. Not knowing what was to come with Leia gone, but reminding each other that no matter what, you would be able to find peace in one another’s arms.

“Leia always knew this day would come, she’s prepared you in every way she knew how.” You nodded. “Do you really think I can do this Poe? Be a Jedi Master, fight?”

“Y/n do you think I can lead?”

“Of course Poe, you’ll make a great General.” You were a little confused by his change of topic. “Why do you think that?” He asked as you sat up.

“Well Leia chose you for a reason didn’t she? She trained you, and, oh,” It may have taken you a moment but you realized what he was doing.

“Exactly, and Y/n you’ll always have me. No matter what. And hey, I expect the same from you,” He said in an attempt to lighten the mood which you took as an opportunity.

“You know the General gets a bigger room?” You said, referencing the one you were both in now. “And I’m not sure you’ll know what to do with all that space.”

“What are you insinuating Miss Jedi?” “Well its not as if there’s a Jedi Counsel around to chide me for being with the man I love, Mr General”

“Love?” “More than anything in the whole galaxy.” Poe leaned over to give you another kiss, he twisted to meet your lips. It was passionate, filled with love. It unraveled the knot in your stomach and dispelled the darkness you thought was overtaking you. Your nostrils were filled with Poe’s musk, oil from working in the hangar, leather, and cedarwood. You were in love with this man and you knew that as long as you had him you would be alright.

[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. 

[americancowgirl19]

Escape

Summary: Your brother, Anakin, has fallen to the dark side. You try to bring him back but you’re not sure you can.

Warnings: slight gore, angst, death

Reader: Gender Neutral Reader

Pairings: Anakin Skywalker x Sibling!Reader, Slight Obi-Wan x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2,598

A/n: I have no idea if this is any good but it’s an idea that’s been swimming around my brain for a while so here ya go. *I am working on my requests but decided to post this*

Masterlist

Chaos erupts all over the galaxy. Jedi fall to the gunfire of their fellow soldiers. The Empire moves in as the Republic falls.

It was just by chance that you weren’t on the battle field. You had a meeting with Yoda concerning your brother and his relationship with Palpatine. When you arrived you felt it. You felt the shift in power and knew you were too late but you still hoped.

You hunted your brother down praying he didn’t fall for Palpatine’s manipulations. You had tried to hard to keep Anakin from getting too close but it always felt like a losing battle.

When you found him, your heart broke. You saw him kneel before Palpatine vowing to learn his ways. You watched your brother cross the line to the dark side.

You knew you were no match for a Sith Lord. Between you and Anakin, your brother was the better dueler. To go up against them would mean certain death. With a heavy heart you turned and ran.

"Master, what is going on?” Your padawan, Jeana, asks. Your hand latches onto her sleeve and pull her into the protection of a shadowy corner. 

“We’ve been betrayed,” You told her. “Palpatine is the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for and he’s somehow managed to turn the clones against us,”

“All of them?” Jeana whispers, her eyes widening.

You nodded feeling a pang of sympathy for her. Jeana cared for the clones on a familial level while you considered them friends. You cared for the clones but you were their General, you had to be able to lead them without being controlled by emotions which forced you to keep more of a distance than your padawan. 

“Is there any way we can help them?” She asks hopefully. 

“I’m afraid not,” You tell her. “Not at the moment at least. Right now there are others who need our help,” You say. “Palpatine wants to destroy all the Jedi,”

“The younglings,” Jeana gasped.

“We have to get them out before it’s too late,” You turn your back to her and check to make sure you’re alone. When it’s clear you motion for her to follow you. 

“The Jedi... Are they all dead?” She whispers her question. It’s a question you hadn’t allowed yourself to ask. Now the question’s out in the open and you couldn’t help but to think about those you care about.

Ahsoka. Windu. Kit. Plo. Yoda... Obi-Wan...

The tall blonde Jedi began to consume your mind. The two of you were of the same age. You had become padawan’s together then masters and then general. The two of you had grown up together. You grew up as friends but you always loved him.

You love Obi-Wan and you knew he loved you as well. You knew of each other’s feelings but also knew that it was forbidden in the Order. You both chose the life of the Jedi over the love you hold for each other. That didn’t prevent you both from longing for the other and sharing special moments.

You hadn’t contacted him in days, something you’re regretting. You pray he’s alive and safe. You pray you’ll see him again but that’s all you can do right now.

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “Some of them had to have survived,” You say hopefully. “But they’re on their own right now just like we are. We’re the only ones that can help the younglings but we have to hurry,”

“Where are we going to take them?” Jeana asks.

“We’re going to take them to the ships,” You tell her. “Find one big enough and then fly to...” You think of a safe place but you fall short. “You have family on Naboo. We’ll take them there and work on returning them to their families,” You decide. 

Jeana came from a large and rich family. A family loyal to the Republic. You knew that the younglings would be safe there. At least for a little while.

You were steps away from the room where the little ones hid when you sensed someone behind you. You slowed to a stop causing Jeana to stop with you. She turned and saw who it was first.

“Do as I planned,” You tell her. “Anakin is no ally,” You warn. 

You can see the world falling onto Jeana’s shoulders. You can see the reality really settling in. Nothing will ever be the same and you wished you would be able to help her adjust but this is where your paths divide.

“If I can join you I will but know I am so proud of how far you’ve come,” You whisper to Jeana. Your Padawan had come to you a few years ago. The two of you formed a quick and strong bond. You hated sending her off on her own not knowing if she would be able to stay safe but you had no choice.

“Come with me,” Jeana pleaded, grabbing your wrist.

“I have to face my brother and you have to save the younglings. Trust in the force,” You whisper, pressing your forehead against her. “I will always be with you my padawan, my sister,” You promise. “Now go,” You say urgently. You sense Anakin coming closer. “I’ll give you as much time as I can,” You vow.

Jeana grips your wrist tightly before forcing herself to hide in the room with the younglings. You trusted your padawan, you knew she would be clever enough to find a way out.

When you turned to your brother you didn’t recognize him. His eyes were different. They’re full of pain and anger. You can’t help but to feel guilty. You allowed him to fall this far. You let Palpatine sink his claws so deep into him that he’s a different person.

You long to see the young boy fresh from Tatooine. You were the older sibling. You were Obi-Wan’s age. You escaped Tatooine a few years before Qui-Gon found Anakin. You were a padwan by the time you and Anakin reunited.

He had been excited to see you again but you feared he held resentment toward you for abandoning him and your mother. Despite your fear you and Anakin became thick as thieves quickly after your reunion.

The two of you were so close that he trusted you with knowing about him and Padme. You attended the wedding and shared many bonding moments with your sister-in-law. You were beyond excited for your future niece or nephew.

You had seen the signs of Anakin’s fall to the dark side. As of late Palpatine rarely let him out of his sight. Padme had told you how little he was sleeping. Then there was the fact that every time you saw him you knew something was haunting him.

You thought you had done everything you could for him but standing in front of him now and seeing just how gone he is you knew you could have done more. You didn’t know what you should have done differently but you should have fought harder. You were the older sibling. You were supposed to protect him but you failed.

“It’s not too late,” You tell him. You keep your hands by your side. You try to look as harmless as possible. You didn’t want to set him off.

“You’re right, it’s not,” Anakin agreed. “I don’t want to hurt you and you don’t want to hurt me... So, join me,” He suggests. “The Jedi are no more, the Republic has fallen. Join me,” He pleads, holding his hand out.

“I’m sorry Anakin,” You tell him. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more or try harder to protect you... I abandoned you on Tatooine and I failed you here. If you cannot see that you’re falling down the wrong path then there’s no saving you,” 

“I don’t need saving,” Anakin tells you. “It’s the galaxy that needs saving... Saving from the corrupt Jedi,”

“So, you do what?” You ask. “You kill your friends? Your family?! The ones that trained you, grew up with you, love you! You’re just going to kill them all?” You ask him.

“If they stand in my way,” He says.

“What are you doing here Anakin?” You ask. “Don’t tell me you’re here for the younglings,”

“The Jedi must be destroyed,” 

“They’re children!” You shout at him.

“And they will grow! They will become Jedi! I cannot allow that!” He shouts back at you. He lights his saber. “Join me or die,”

“I won’t let you hurt those children,” You shake your head, reaching for your saber.

“So be it,” Anakin whispers. You light your saber just in time to block Anakin’s attack.

“Don’t do this Anakin,” You plead, your arm shaking as you fight to keep his saber away from you. “It’s not too late... You haven’t done anything irreversible yet,”

Anakin doesn’t answer you. He pulls his saber away only to strike again and again. You defend yourself while using subtle footwork to lead him away from the room with the younglings inside. Anakin follows after you, too blinded by his rage to notice what you’re doing.

“Anakin stop this madness! Think about Padme! She wouldn’t want you doing this!”

“I’m doing this for her!” Anakin shouts. “You don’t know what I know. You haven’t seen what I have,”

“Then talk to me, Ani! Stop fighting and just talk!” You beg, shoving your saber against his forcing him to slide backward.

“She dies!” He confesses. “And the only way to save her is to learn what the Chancellor has to teach me,” 

“You don’t know that,” You say.

“The dark side is how I save her,”

“The dark side is how you will lose her!” You try to reason. “Do you really think Padme will stay with you after you turn against the Republic? You’re destroying everything she worked for! Everything we’ve worked for!”

“She’ll see the truth as I have and she’ll come with me! I won’t let anybody take her from me,” He declares marching towards you.

“Anakin you’re blinded by your desperation,” You tell him. “Please-” You cut yourself off as Anakin forces you back on defense.

The force from his swings have your arms shaking in exhaustion. You kept moving on your feet hoping to stay away from the blade. You wanted to fight back but every time you strike against him you see the little boy your mother made you vow to protect. You failed him twice, how could you use your saber to stop him? How could you kill him?

In your distraction Anakin slices your arm. You gasp and move away from him. Your movement gives him an opening to strike your ribcage. Your stumble backward. You toss your saber to your nondominant, non-injured, hand. Anakin brings his saber down on yours with more force than before.

Thrusting your hand out you use the force to shove him backward. You take the moment to try and breathe. Anakin glares and runs back at you.

You muster up the strength to fight him off. You singe his leg which he retaliates with another slice at your hip. You stumble away from him. The wounds are deep and more painful than anything you’ve experienced.

“Give up,” Anakin says. “Renounce the Jedi and I won’t kill you,”

“I can’t do that,” You shake your head. Anakin glares harder. His action is hesitant but he attacks again.

Emotion, yet peace. You whisper to yourself. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.

You breathe as deeply as the founds on your body will let you. You feel the force going through your veins. You let it guide you as you defend yourself from Anakin. But it isn’t enough. Anakin was always the better dueler.

You let out a strangled gasp when Anakin brings his saber clear across your abdomen. You stumble and he slips behind you. You fall to our knees as he swings his saber down in a diagonal from your shoulder to the back of your hip.

Your lightsaber turns off and rolls out of your hand. Your body falls back onto your ankles as he walks around to stand in front of you.

“I didn’t want this to happen,” He whispers to you. “But I can’t let you get in my way,” He says nothing more after that. He turns and walks back to the room where the younglings hide.

Your head falls. Your chin rest on the top of your chest. Your eyes focus in on the necklace that’s slipped out from under your robes.

“Obi...” You whisper. “I’m sorry... My love,”

The necklace is a simple silver pendant from Obi-Wan’s home. The two of you had spent a year apart prior to him giving you the necklace. You both hated the distance but it was what the Jedi ordered and the Jedi always came first.

You briefly wondered what life could have been like if you and Obi-Wan chose each other instead. Would you have lived in a city or on a farm? What would you do if you weren’t Jedi? Would you have children? Would you marry each other?

You never really let yourself think of such impossibilities. You didn’t want to think of what you could have, you would drive yourself insane with those thoughts. So, you chesrished what you did have.

You cherished the lingering touches, the soft smiles, and the constant flirting. 

“Where are they!?” Anakin screams, marching up to you. “The younglings! Where did they go?!” 

It took effort but you managed to life your head. You give him a crimson smirk and a pained laugh.

You were relieved Jeana had escaped with the children. It meant this pain wasn’t for nothing. You prayed for her to arrive in Naboo safely. 

“You’re too late, Ani,” You say, coughing. “They’re gone and you’ll never find them,” You laugh again causing more blood to drip down your chin. “Not even a Sith’s apprentice for a day and you’re already disappointing him,” Anakin snarls and thrusts his saber through your chest. The pain is instant but it’s followed by a deathly numbness.

You don’t even notice the regret nor the shock on Anakin’s face. He knew you were resilient enough to survive your wounds but this was a killer blow. He hadn’t meant to deliver it but he was just so enraged.

When he withdrew his saber, you fell onto your side. Your chest stopped moving and your eyes stared down the hallway unblinkingly. 

He kneels before you. He’s still in shock. His hand reaches out for you but he doesn’t touch you. He pulls away and stands. He looks at you for another moment before forcing himself to walk way leaving you on the floor. 

Your body isn’t found for another couple of hours.

“No,” Obi-Wan whispers, standing a few feet from you. He doesn’t know how long he looks at you before the truth sets in. He doesn’t even realize he’s walking forward until he’s kneeling before you. Your lifeless eyes stare past him.

As gently as he can, he lifts you off the ground and into his lap. He falls back and holds you close.

“Y/n,” He whisper, tears filling his eyes. “No, please, no,” He begs. “Not you... Please, not you,” He cries, burying his head into your hair. “I’m so sorry my darling,” He whispers. “I’m so sorry,” 

He closes his eyes and kisses you forehead. Gently, he lifts his hand and closes your eyes.

“Rest well, my love,” He whispers.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings: death threats?

a/n:

suggested by anonymous

Everyone in this family was tempted by darkness at one time or another. For the most part, at least. But the man you loved? There were no words to describe how you felt when you had learned he had left the Resistance for the First Order.

“I find it hard to believe you’d do something so stupid, Poe.” You confronted him over comms as your ships faced each other on the offensive. It was either him or you, but you’d rather it be neither.

“If you can’t beat ‘em.” He flipped a couple of switches in the TIE and aimed in your direction. “Tell you what, I’ll give you one chance to retreat.”

“You know I can’t do that, my love.” You answered, preparing defense instead. You couldn’t bare to hurt him, you’d rather do this the hard way. “You’re gonna have to kill me.”

“That can be arranged...”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @lotsoffandomrecs // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight //

[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.

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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.

[prider-parker-imaginations]

Imagine Luke Skywalker giving you up, his child, to Leia because he can't raise you. 

“Luke, are you sure?” 

Honestly, he wasn’t. He didn’t want you to think he’d abandoned you. He was doing this because he loved you. Because he wanted a better life for you than the one he could give. “Where I’m going, they can’t follow.”

“You know they’re not going to understand.”

“They will one day,” he was trying to convince himself as much as his sister.

Leia crossed her arms, displeasure written across her face. “They’re going to think you don’t want them.” She had never been one to soften her words.

Luke fought the urge to wince. “I want them to be safe.” If you hated him for it, so be it. It was a price he was willing to pay. “They won’t need me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know they’ll be safest with you. That’s what matters.”

“Then you tell them that. Look them in the eye and tell them why you’re leaving them behind. Because they need to hear it from you.”

Luke knew he would have to do it eventually. That didn’t make it any easier to face you, knowing he was going to leave. He knelt in front of you, searching for the right words. You beat him to it.

“I’m going to stay with Aunt Leia and Uncle Han for awhile.” It was a statement, not a question. Sometimes Luke forgot how perceptive you were. You were little, yes, but you were sharp.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why can’t I come with you?”

“Because I want to know you’re safe. I want to know you’re with people who can take care of you.”

“But you can keep me safe. You can take care of me,” you insisted, your childish stubbornness showing through.

Luke shook his head, struggling to suppress his own emotions. “Not where I’m going. Wouldn’t you rather have a normal life with friends your own age?”

You shook your head, adamant. “I wanna go with you.”

His hand smoothed over your shoulder, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “You can’t. You have to stay.”

Tears glittered in your eyes. “I wanna go with you,” you repeated.

His thumb swiped across your cheek, brushing the wetness away. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Gif Credit: Luke

[saintfaux]

[winchesterxxi]

Poe being married to Skywalker!Reader and being around the skywalker family (Leia and Han). They have been married for a few years idk lol

Maybe he Poe says “What family did I marry into?”

WARNINGS: Fem!Reader; Takes place before TFA

Quick throwback to when Poe had to ask Han for your hand in marriage and him being like “NO ONE IS MARRYING MY DAUGHTER! MY DAUGHTER IS TOO GOOD FOR ANY MAN!”

Followed by Leia smacking him in the head. 

“Of course we give you our blessing.”

“SPEAK FOR YOURSELF THIS M-”

*Leia scolds him with just a look*

*long sigh* “Fine, I guess. She loves you or whatever.”

You being second in command of the Resistance and Poe being the Commander of the offensive makes you to couple every one looks up to;

Whenever you have strategy meetings with the board members Poe tends to just fix his eyes on you in admiration whenever you come up with a new tactic

Han just smacks him in the head;

“Eyes on the galactic map, not on my daughter”

“Han, we’re married.”

“Is that supposed to make me not want to smack you? Because, let me tell you, it only makes me more eager to do so.”

Your mother being the one that gets your father to calm down, pointing out how similar you and Poe are to them when they were younger

There is this constant bicker but this one night, you, Poe and your parents go to the cantina to celebrate a battle victory and the sole point is to get the men w a s t e d

You and your mom just sip on your drinks but insist on them getting cocktail after cocktail and after about an hour they are both hammered arms around each other’s shoulders singing songs

You and your mom just mischievously smile at each other. 

Next morning they’re both hungover and don’t remember a thing

“Don’t forget to meet my dad at 10.”

He just rubs his forehead and looks at you like????????

“Yesterday you both agreed to go on a quick trip on the Falcon. Father and son-in-law bonding time!”

*in the room next door*

“I am telling you I DON’T REMEMBER inviting him to the Falcon let alone GOING ON A JOY RIDE WITH HIM!”

“But you promised the kid, plus it’ll make your daughter happy knowing that the two of you are finally getting along!”

*deep sigh* “I’m only doing this for Y/N.”

Once they’ve both gotten on the Falcon you and your mom stand there waving them goodbye.

“They actually bought it.”

“Of course they did.”

Later on the ship, there is this awkward silence while they’re just floating around hyperspace.

And it doesn’t take them long to put two and two together

“So if you don’t remember anything, and I don’t remember anything, and Y/N was FAIRLY insistent that you invited me -”

“No, Leia said I promised you -”

They both look at each other as it hits them

“What kind of family did I marry into?” 

“Trust me kid, I ask myself that same question everyday.”

“But you’re part of the family.”

“I said what I said”

[tootiredtobenice]

[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

[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

[uramakimochi]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n:

requested by anonymous

A new lightsaber was long overdue, that was for sure. Your boyfriend, Poe, insisted on giving you a hand, but you assured him that you had it under control. So he sat idly by and stared as you worked on the finishing touches of your pristine double-bladed lightsaber. After some light welding and a few touch ups, you were pretty much done.

“Is that is?” Poe asked, still leaning his chin onto his fist with a look of determination that had stuck after watching you do your thing.

“Yep.” You nodded as you carefully set your kyber crystal inside and held the lightsaber up. “Watch out, I don’t wanna hurt you.” You warned as Poe scooted back in his seat.

“I’m ready.” He watched the hilt in your hand and you ignited it just like that, two blue blades illuminated the room and Poe’s jaw dropped.

“Not to sound like my cousin, but it’s just like grandpa’s...except his only had a singular blade.” You switched the saber back off and looked over at Poe’s insanely cute grin. “You like?”

“That was amazing, I’ve never seen one with two blades!” He cheered and ran up to you to examine your weapon more closely. “Honestly, you’re much cooler than your grandpa.”

“Yeah, I think the genocide and mass murder sets us apart.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @lotsoffandomrecs // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

[winnysplayground]

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.